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5-  JAN  26  1890 


BX  9^93  .N4  A6  1889 
Appel,  Theodore,  1823-1907. 
The  life  and  work  of  John 
Williamson  Nevin 


THE  LIFE  AND  WORK 


-OF- 


JOHN  WILLIAMSON  NEVIK 


D.  D.,  LL.  D. 


BY 


THEODORE  APPEL 
D.  D. 


PECTUS  FACIT  THEOLOOUM 


PHILADELPHIA 

REFORMED  CHURCH   PUBLICATION  HOUSE: 

907  Arch  Street 

1889 


Copyright  by 
THEODORE   APPEL 

1889 


The  new  Era  Printing  House 
Lancaster,  Pa 


Alumnis  Omnibus  et  Singulis 

Academias  Marsliallianae 

Atque 

Franklinianse  et  Marsliallianse 

Hoc  Opus 

Dicitur,  Dicatur,  ac  Declicatur 

al) 

Auctore 


FREDERICK  A.  GAST, 
W.  U.  HENSEL, 
THEODORE   APPEL, 
JOHN  S.  STAHR, 
CALVIN  S.  GERHARD, 

Publishing  Committee, 


INTRODUCTION 


THIS  biograph3'  needs  no  Jipology.  It  is  the  histoiy  of  a  noble 
life  and  an  exalted  character.  In  whatever  light  he  may  be 
A'iewed,  Dr.  Xevin  occupies  high  rank  among  the  distinguished  men 
of  his  age.  An  eminent  scholar,  a  pi'ofound  theologian,  an  inde- 
pendent thinker,  a  vigorous  writer  and  an  earnest  Christian,  he 
exerted  a  powerful  influence,  which  will  not  cease  to  be  felt  for 
many  generations  to  come.  It  is  only  right,  therefore,  that  the  life 
and  labors  of  one  who  touched  the  higher  spiritual  interests  of  hu- 
manity at  so  many  points  should  be  recorded,  that  the  world  may 
know  what  manner  of  man  he  was,  what  truths  he  taught,  what 
conflicts  he  waged,  and  what  measure  of  success  he  achieved. 

Dr.  Nevin  was  a  man  of  broad  and  thorough  scholarship.  With 
a  strong  and  richly  endowed  mind  well  disciplined  by  j-ears  of  hard 
study,  he  accumulated  vast  treasures  of  learning,  which  were  ever 
at  his  command.  There  are  few  departments  of  knowledge  in  which 
he  was  not  at  home.  When  he  entered  on  the  study  of  theology 
and  philosophy,  in  which  he  rose  to  such  great  eminence,  he  had 
already  laid  a  solid  foundation  in  the  Classics,  mathematics  and 
historj'.  Equipped  with  a  thorough  knowledge  of  Hebrew  and 
Greek,  he  was  well  fitted,  both  by  his  attainments  and  his  tastes, 
for  the  pursuit  of  Biblical  science,  to  which  his  earliest  official 
labors  were  devoted  ;  and  it  is  not  improbable  that,  if  he  had  con- 
tinued to  make  this  branch  of  theology  his  specialt3',he  would  have 
come  to  stand  among  the  foremost  Biblical  scholars  of  America. 

But  when  called  to  Mercersburg,  it  became  his  duty  to  teach  dog- 
matic theology  in  the  Seminary,  and,  after  the  death  of  Dr.  Ranch, 
philosophy  in  Marshall  College.  His  brief  contact  with  that  able 
and  genial  scholar  afl!brded  him  a  deeper  insight  into  the  immense 
wealth  of  German  thought,  of  which  he  had  only  had  a  passing  and 
unsatisfiictory  glimpse  before.  He  had  alread3^  acquired  a  good 
working  knowledge  of  the  language,  and  he  now  devoted  himself  to 
the  arduous  task  of  mastering  the  whole  field  of  German  i)hiloso- 
phy  and  theology.     It  was  at  a  time  when,  in  this  countr}-  at  least. 


VI  INTRODUCTION 

all  German  sj^stems  alike  were  regarded  with  suspicion ;  but  in  his 
unwearied  search  for  truth,  he  determined  to  make  their  acquaint- 
ance, and  was  rewarded  by  having  a  new  intellectual  world  opened 
up  to  his  Adew. 

His  learning,  though  broad  and  varied,  was  especially  marked 
by  thoroughness.  He  had  no  ambition  to  be  an  encyclopedia  of 
knowledge.  To  have  full  mastery  of  one  subject  was  infinitely 
more  to  him  than  to  have  a  superficial  acquaintance  with  man}-. 
He  was  not  a  man  who  kept  himself  constantly  surrounded  b}^  a 
great  multitude  of  books.  It  was  a  surprise  to  his  friends,  at  least 
during  the  latter  period  of  his  life,  to  find  how  few  books  he  had 
at  hand.  You  entered  his  study,  but  saw  no  library.  On  his  writ- 
ing-table lay  his  Hebrew  Old  Testament  and  his  Greek  New  Testa- 
ment, which  were  never  absent  from  his  side,  and  besides  these  a 
very  few  works  connected  with  the  study  on  which  his  mind  was 
then  engaged.  These  he  read  and  re-read  and  inwardly  digested, 
till  their  contents  became  part  of  his  A^ery  self.  Any  subject  which 
claimed  his  attention  completely  absorbed  him,  and  for  the  time 
filled  his  conversation  as  well  as  his  thoughts.  He  kept  it  con- 
stantly before  his  mind  until  he  saw  it  in  all  its  length  and  breadth, 
its  height  and  depth. 

It  was  this  that  made  him  the  profound  thinker  he  was.  His 
mind  was  constitutionally  of  a  philosophic  cast.  Imbued  with  a 
strong  love  of  truth  he  was  impelled  to  search  for  it  as  for  hidden 
treasure.  Traditional  opinions  and  inherited  beliefs  had  little  value 
for  him  until  he  had  examined  them,  tested  them  and  proved  them 
correct.  A  questioning  attitude  was  natural  to  him.  He  readil}' 
detected  the  weakness  and  defects  of  any  sj^stem  and  mercilessl}' 
exposed  them  to  view.  His  mind  was  in  fact  severely  critical,  even 
toward  conclusions  he  had  himself  reached  b}^  much  stud}'  and  re- 
flection. Hence  it  is  not  surprising  that,  during  his  long  and 
thoughtful  life,  he  passed  through  various  phases  of  faith.  To 
many  he  seemed  to  be  ever  vacillating.  And  indeed  he  was  not 
^tationar}'.  Whatever  lives  advances  from  lower  stages  to  higher, 
and  the  life  of  thought  is  no  exception.  It  manifests  itself  either  in 
the  discover}'  of  new  truth,  or,  at  least,  in  the  fuller,  clearer  and 
more  adequate  apprehension  of  old  truth.  Only  what  is  dead 
stands  still.  Dr.  Xevin  felt  no  pride  in  maintaining  an  unvarying 
uniformit}'  of  thought.  As  soon  as  a  form  of  truth  appeared  on 
more  mature  reflection  to  be  unsatisfactory,  he  freely  surrendered 
it  and  diligently  sought  for  a  higher  and  more  perfect  form.  And 
so  he  seemed  to  himself  to  be  always  progressing,  and  yet  in  his 


INTRODUCTION  VI 1 

progress  to  be  self-consistent,  at  least  in  the  sense  that  he  was 
constantly-  advancing  ui)ward  along  one  unconscionsl}-  predeter- 
mined line. 

However  that  may  be,  it  is  undeniable  that  his  mind  had  a  won- 
derfull}-  comprehensive  grasp  of  truth.  He  viewed  a  subject  on 
all  sides  and  followed  it  out  in  all  its  bearings.  It  was  as  if  the 
full  vision  presented  itself  at  once  to  his  gaze,  and  he  saw  it  imme- 
diatel}-  in  its  broad  sweep  and  then  gradually  in  its  single  features. 
Xot  unfrequently  his  glance  was  almost  prophetic.  He  anticipated 
many  truths,  the  importance  of  which  is  only  now  beginning  to 
dawn  on  the  consciousness  of  the  religious  world.  And  he  did  it 
not  so  much  hy  logical  ratiocination  as  by  direct  intuition.  He 
was  remarkable  for  his  power  of  genei'alization,  or  rather,  we 
should  say,  his  intellect  was  constitutionally  fitted  to  lay  hold,  first 
on  a  general  truth,  and  then  to  trace  it  out  in  its  manifold  relations. 
Particular  truths  never  appeared  to  his  mind  in  their  isolation. 
Single  facts  possessed  value  for  him  only  as  they  were  compre- 
hended in  a  general  life.  This  is  the  characteristic  of  philosophic 
genius,  and  Dr.  Nevin  displayed  it  in  a  ver^-^  high  degree. 

He  was  a  singularly  independent  thinker.  Though  not  disre- 
garded of  what  his  predecessors  had  accomplished,  keenlj-  alive, 
rather,  to  the  results  of  their  thought,  he  passed  their  conclusions 
through  the  fire  of  his  own  powerful  mind,  tested  them,  refined 
them  of  their  dross  and  adopted  them  only  in  a  purified  form.  Cer- 
tain thinkers,  like  Schleiermacher,  Xeander  and  Rothe,  possessed 
a  wonderful  fascination  for  him ;  but  he  never  followed  them  blindl}', 
or  surrendered  himself  to  them  in  slavish  dependence.  His  mind 
was  always  open  in  a  childlike  wa^-  to  the  influence  of  other  strong 
minds,  but  it  was  too  vigorous  and  health3-  to  succumb  to  them  in 
absolute  submission.  For  a  while, indeed,  he  might  be  too  greatly 
under  their  sway,  but,  sooner  or  later,  he  recovered  himself  and  re- 
asserted his  independence. 

He  was  not  a  creative  genius  in  the  sense  that  Kant  was  in  phil- 
osophy and  Schleiermacher  in  theology.  He  did  not  originate  a 
s^'stem  of  thought.  His  philosoi)hical  and  theological  impulses 
came  mainly  from  Germany.  But  he  was  original  in  this,  that, 
having  submitted  the  results  of  German  thought  to  the  scrutiny  of 
his  own  gigantic  intellect,  he  adapted  them  to  the  sphere  in  which 
he  was  placed.  He  I'eproduced  German  theolog3'  in  a  form  suitable 
to  his  country  and  age. 

15ut  behind  the  great  scholar  and  the  greater  thinker  was  the  still 
greater  man.     Nol)ility  of  soul  was  stamped  even  ui>on  his  outward 


VUl  INTRODUCTION 

form.  He  was  a  man  of  marked  appearance.  His  lofty  brow,  his 
firmly  set  mouth,  the  lines  of  his  face,  the  peculiar  gleam  of  his 
eye,  and  the  strong,  deep  tones  of  his  voice,  together  with  a  general 
air  of  abstraction, all  witnessed  to  the  refinement  of  intellectual  and 
moral  culture,  to  a  life  of  earnest  and  profound  thought,  and  to  an 
unusual  force  of  character.  Though  naturally  of  a  shy,  retiring 
disposition,  his  presence  at  once  made  itself  felt  wherever  he  chanced 
to  be.  Even  among  those  to  whom  he  was  unknown,  his  appear- 
ance alwa^^s  attracted  attention  and  compelled  respect. 

He  was  intellectually  open,  honest  and  without  guile.  You  felt, 
when  in  conversation  with  him,  that  he  was  pouring  out  his  inmost 
soul  and  that  he  had  no  reserved  opinions,  nothing,  in  fact,  which 
he  was  tr^ang  to  couceal.  His  convictions  were  strong,  and  for 
him  at  least  they  were  true;  and  the  truth,  as  he  saw  it,  took  com- 
plete possession  of  his  whole  being.  It  was  not  something  for  the 
logical  understanding  merely,  an  idle  speculation  without  any  prac- 
tical bearing  whatever.  It  was  for  him  a  matter  of  life  or  death, 
and  he  felt  constrained  to  give  it  the  fullest  and  clearest  expression 
by  tongue  or  pen  for  the  benefit  of  the  world.  With  all  the  earnest- 
ness of  his  nature  he  contended  against  every  opposing  error.  He 
was  often  charged  'with  being  simply  negative,  breaking  down  with- 
out building  up.  He  was  negative,  however,  only  because  he  was 
so  positive.  When  he  came  into  possession  of  a  truth  which  he 
deemed  of  vital  importance  to  men,  he  could  not  refrain  from  giv- 
ing it  utterance.  Having  the  courage  of  his  convictions,  he  never 
hesitated  to  brave  all  opposition  at  whatever  cost  to  himself. 
There  was  a  time  when  Romanism  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  larger 
section  of  Protestantism  on  the  other,  were  arrayed  against  him ; 
yet  he  stood  firm  and  undaunted,  assured  that  time  would  vindicate 
the  truth  of  his  position.  But  whether  in  this  he  was  right  or 
wrong,  who  must  not  admire  the  sublime  heroism  displayed  in 
thus  contending  almost  single-handed  against  such  tremendous 
odds!  It  was  possible  only  to  a  soul  thoroughly  in  earnest,  keenly 
alive  to  the  truth,  and  endowed  with  extraordinary  strength  of  will. 

The  key  to  Dr.  Kevin's  character  laj^  in  his  moral  earnestness. 
Whatever  came  to  him  as  a  dut}^  he  did  with  all  his  might.  In  the 
early  part  of  his  Seminary  course  he  was  dismayed  by  what  seemed 
to  him  the  difficulties  to  be  overcome  in  the  study  of  Hebrew.  In 
his  discouragement  he  asked  himself  whether  it  was  really  worth  his 
while  to  spend  the  time  and  labor  necessary  to  acquire  a  language, 
which  was  mastered  by  few,  and  forgotten  or  laid  aside  by  nearly 
all.     He  had  almost  resolved  to  discontinue  the  study  when,  through 


INTRODUCTION  IX 

the  judicious  counsels  of  a  frieiul,  he  reconsidered  the  question, 
and,  having  on  serious  reflection  come  to  see  how  indispensable  a 
knowledge  of  that  language  is  to  one  who  would  understand  the 
Old  Testament  aright,  he  addressed  himself  with  vigor  to  his  task, 
and  with  such  success  that  he  read  the  entire  Hebrew  Bible  through 
before  completing  his  student  life  in  the  Seminar\^  at  Princeton. 

Such  earnestness  aroused  by  a  keen  and  strong  sense  of  duty 
characterized  his  life  fi*om  its  commencement  to  its  close.  He 
could  do  nothing  in  a  half-hearted  way,  whether  in  stud}',  in  con- 
troversy, or  in  the  sphere  of  practical  activity'.  He  began  his  career 
as  a  severe  and  stern  reformer,  denouncing  intemperance,  slaA'ery, 
fanaticism  and  wrong  of  every  kind.  He  outlived  this  negative 
activity,  but  only  to  seek,  in  a  higher  and  positive  realm  of  life,  the 
cure  for  the  maladies  that  afflict  humanity.  All  along  he  had  had 
faith  in  the  Gospel  as  the  divine  remedy  for  human  evils,  but  he 
thought  that  the  Christianity  by  which  he  was  surrounded  lacked 
the  spirituality  and  power  needed  to  accomplish  its  mission  in  the 
present  era  of  history.  The  circumstances  amid  which  he  stood  in 
the  earlier  3ears  of  his  ministry'  kindled  in  him  a  reformatory  zeal, 
which  became  ever  less  negatiA'e  and  more  inward  and  positive,  as 
he  grew  in  wisdom  and  grace.  During  the  period  of  his  public  life 
there  prevailed  an  impression  as  false  as  it  was  common,  that 
Dr.  Xevin  was  extravagant!}'  speculative,  an  intellectual  dreamer, 
and  it  was  remarked  by  some  who  were  not  in  sympathy  with  his 
thinking,  that  it  would  have  been  better  for  the  world  and  the 
church  if,  instead  of  being  a  mere  theorizer,  he  had  devoted  the 
force  of  his  giant  intellect  to  practical  work,  especiall}-  in  his  own 
denomination,  where  it  seemed  to  be  particularly  needed.  Re- 
marks of  this  kind,  however,  were  based,  not  on  facts,  but  on  fancies, 
and  grew  out  of  an  inadequate  knowledge  of  the  man.  He  was  in 
truth  eminently  practical  in  all  his  tendencies.  Few,  indeed,  were 
more  so.  With  his  intensely  earnest  nature,  how  could  it  be  other- 
wise? With  him  philosophy'  and  even  theology  had  no  interest  or 
value,  apart  from  their  actual  bearings  on  the  welfare  of  man  and 
the  progress  of  society.  He  scarcely  ever  wrote  an  article  for  the 
press,  however  metaphysical  or  speculative  in  its  character,  in  which 
he  did  not  seek  to  promote  the  higher  spiritual  interests  of  the 
community  or  the  Church.  The  practical  element  in  Christianit}' 
seemed  to  be  ever  uppermost  and  predominant  in  his  mind  as  in 
that  of  Xeander. 

In  his  sphere  of  labor  in  the  Reformed  Church,  l*rovidence  gave 
him  ample  range  for  displaying  the  practical  character  of  his  mind. 


X  INTRODUCTION 

He  could  never  content  himself  with  simply  doing  his  prescribed 
work  of  faithfully  preparing  laborers  for  the  field  white  for  the 
hai'vest,  and  then  indolently  sitting  down  to  mope  and  monrn  over 
the  desolations  of  Zion.  On  the  contrary,  as  opportunity  pre- 
sented itself,  he  united  with  his  brethren  in  the  promotion  of  every 
good  word  and  work.  He  seldom  attempted  to  initiate  any  move- 
ment himself,  but  when  others  proposed  a  measure  which  had  a 
prospect  of  usefulness  and  gave  promise  of  success,  he  lent  it  a 
vigorous  support  and  generally  by  his  pen  became  its  most  power- 
ful advocate.  He  took  a  comprehensive  view  of  his  duties  as  a 
theological  professor.  The  Seminar}^  was  to  his  mind  a  vital  part 
of  the  Church  to  which  it  belongs,  in  yery  truth,  its  beating  heart. 
He  identified  its  success'  with  the  prosperity  of  the  interest  which 
it  represented.  He  could  not  feel  satisfied,  therefore,  with  laboring 
for  the  one  without  at  the  same  time  embracing  the  other.  Enjo}-- 
ing,  as  he  did,  the  confidence  of  the  Church,  he  took  a  more  or  less 
active  part  in  all  its  important  movements,  and  his  judgment  alwa3's 
carried  with  it  much  weight.  For  many  3'ears  he  virtuall^^  occupied 
the  position  of  episcopos  in  the  Church,  and  during  this  period  the 
history  of  the  Church  was  in  a  large  measure  embraced  in  his  life' 
Ever3^where  he  appears  as  the  cautious  pilot,  skillfully  guiding  the 
vessel.  By  common  consent  he  was  acknowledged  as  primus  inter 
pares,  and  was  very  generallj^  regarded  as  the  Church's  wisest  and 
best  guide. 

It  was  his  Intense  earnestness  that  made  Dr.  Nevin  the  sharp 
polemic  and  hard  controversialist  he  was.  He  battled  for  what  he 
had  come  to  regard  as  the  truth,  as  vital  truth,  to  the  supreme  im- 
portance of  which  the  Church  needed  to  have  its  mind  aroused. 
He  could  not  be  indiff"erent  without  being  recreant  to  his  trust. 
He  saw  on  ever}'  hand  what  he  believed  to  be  errors  of  the  most 
dangerous  kind,  while  the  guardians  of  the  truth  slept  unconscious 
of  the  peril  by  which  it  was  beset.  The  time  had  come,  and  he  held 
it  as  his  task,  to  expose  these  errors  with  the  wrong  tendencies  and 
false  measures  to  which  the^^  gave  birth.  And  he  did  it  in  plain, 
unmistakeable  terms.  As  a  matter  of  course,  he  called  forth  fierce 
opposition  and  often  the  bittei'est  hostility.  He  came  into  collision 
wuth  the  religious  thought  of  a  large  part  of  the  Christian  Church. 
Often  he  was  misrepresented,  oftener  misunderstood.  Yet  in  spite 
of  ignorance  and  prejudice,  he  maintained  his  position  without 
faltering.  No  arraj-  of  hostile  forces  could  make  him  swerve  an 
inch  from  the  truth  and  right  which  he  belicA^ed  he  possessed. 
Naturally  in  the  heat  of  such  a  contest  there  would  be  on  either 


INTRODUCTION  XI 

side  many  a,  husty  and  harsh  word  which  would  better  have  been 
left  unspoken,  but  which  in  calmer  moments  would  be  regretted 
and  recalled.  But  now  that  the  T)attle  is  ended,  no  one,  whether  he 
regard  Dr.  Xevin  as  in  the  wrong  or  in  the  right,  can  help  admiring 
his  moral  earnestness  in  proclaiming  what  he,  in  spite  of  its  un- 
popularity, believed  to  be  the  truth,  and  his  unshaken  courage  in 
maintaining  it  without  regard  to  personal  consequences  against  the 
most  formidable  opposition. 

To  mau}^  it  may  seem  strange  to  hear  it  said  that  Dr.  Xevin  pos- 
sessed all  the  delicate  sensibilities  and  tenderness  of  a  woman.  His 
voice  was  gruff  and  his  manner  somewhat  brusque,  leaving  a  natural 
impression  of  severit}'  and  sternness.  And  this  impression  was 
confirmed  by  the  fact  that  in  public  controversy^  when  he  believed 
the  interests  of  truth  and  righteousness  were  at  stake,  he  gave,  as 
he  received,  many  a  hard  blow.  Those,  however,  who  knew  him  in 
the  intimac3^  of  private  life,  were  aware  of  a  gentleness,  a  tender 
heartedness,  a  loving  kindness,  not  apparent  to  a  stranger's  eye. 
Little  children  loved  him,  as  he  loved  them.  His  pupils  regarded 
him  with  reverence  and  with  affection  as  well.  There  was  in  him 
a  deep  well-spring  of  emotion  which  was  easil}-  touched.  Some- 
times a  flood  of  feeling  overwhelmed  him  when  preaching  ;  and  at 
such  times  it  was  painful  to  witness  that  strong  nature,  struggling 
hard  for  several  moments  to  choke  down  his  emotions  and  regain 
control  of  himself. 

Dr.  Nevin  was  habitually  of  a  serious  mind.  Notwithstanding 
his  powerful  assaults  on  Puritanism  as  a  religious  s^'stem,  his  na- 
ture was  cast  in  a  Puritan  mould.  No  one  ever  thought  of  ventur- 
ing on  any  levity'  in  his  presence.  Not  that  his  aspect  was  harsh 
or  morose,  rather  there  was  in  it  a  quiet  sweetness,  which,  while  it 
repressed  the  coarse  jest  and  boisterous  laugh,  encouraged  the 
humorous  word  and  gentle  smile.  His  intimate  friends  never  felt 
anything  forbidding  in  his  manner, but  they  did  feel  when  with  him 
that  life  was  too  serious  even  for  momentary  trifling  or  folly. 

He  lived,  to  a  large  extent,  especially  in  his  latter  days,  in  com- 
munion with  the  spiritual  world.  That  world  was  to  him  the  su- 
preme reality-.  His  thoughts  dwelt  upon  it  with  constant  deligiit. 
His  conversation  was  filled  with  it,  as  the  all-engrossing  object  of 
his  meditations.  Not  that  he  ever  lost  interest  in  the  atfairs  of  this 
world  ;  on  the  contrar}',  he  kept  himself  remarkabl}'  well  informed 
concerning  all  social,  scientific  and  religious  movements.  He 
studied  them  carefully,  but  mainly  in  their  relation  to  Christ's  spir- 
itual kingdom,  which  was  for  him,  not  something  to  be  expected  at 


Xll  INTRODUCTION 

a  remote  future,  but  a  present  reality  encompassing  us  at  all  times. 
His  thoughts  were  never  long  absent  from  that  higher  spiritual 
realm,  which,  though  dim  and  shadowy  to  many,  was  so  real  and 
substantial  to  him.  During  the  Centennial  3'ear  he  visited  the  Ex- 
position at  Philadelphia  and  on  his  return,  when  asked,  by  the 
writer,  how  he  was  pleased  he  replied  :  "  On  the  whole,  I  ma}^  sa}^ 
that  I  was  disappointed.  I  looked  at  the  great  Corliss  engine,  and 
it  impressed  me  as  something  wonderful ;  but  all  the  while  I  could 
not  help  thinking  how  infinitely  the  spiritual  transcends  the  nat- 
nral."  While  his  eyes  rested  on  those  marvels  of  human  inventive 
genius  and  artistic  skill,  of  which,  indeed,  he  soon  wearied,  his 
thoughts  were  far  away  with  that  which  touched  the  innermost 
depths  of  his  life. 

Of  such  a  man,  with  his  splendid  qualities  of  mind  and  heart,  we 
wish  to  know  all  that  can  be  known.  There  is  little,  indeed,  in  his 
external  history  to  enlist  attention.  He  rarely  went  from  home. 
He  shrank  from  having  his  name  brought  prominentlj^  before  the 
public.  Even  when  urged  to  become  a  member  of  the  American 
Committee  for  the  revision  of  the  Bible,  he  deemed  it  best,  for  rea- 
sons satisfactory  to  himself,  to  refuse.  He  cared  nothing  for  fame, 
but  much  for  righteousness  and  truth.  His  was  the  quiet  life  of 
the  scholar,  the  thinker  and  the  writer,  and  its  interest  lies  largely 
in  the  development  of  a  powerful  intellect  and  a  strong  Christian 
character. 

It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that,  in  spite  of  his  great  attain- 
ments and  profound  influence,  he  was  not  as  widely  known  as  he 
deserved  to  be.  His  work  was  not  of  the  kind  that  awakens  the  en- 
thusiasm of  the  populace.  He  was  no  public  orator,  no  gifted 
leader  of  a  popular  movement,  no  stern  reformer  of  acknowledged 
abuses.  There  was  nothing  in  his  career  to  call  forth  the  applause 
of  the  multitude.  He  simply  sat  in  his  quiet  study,  and  pondered, 
deeply  and  seriously  pondered,  the  grand  problem  of  life,  and  then 
gave  forth  to  the  world  the  results  of  his  thought.  What  was  there 
in  all  this  to  strike  the  popular  fancy  or  win  him  fame  among  the 
masses  ? 

Not  that  he  was  unknown.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  he  was  better 
appreciated  in  Europe  than  in  his  native  America.  German  theolo- 
gians, like  Ebrard  and  Dorner,  Thiersch  and  DoHinger,  could  esti- 
mate him  at  his  true  worth;  and  while  they  might  dissent  from 
many  of  his  conclusions,  they  recognized  his  power  as  a  religious 
thinker.  Scholars  in  England  as  well  as  in  America,  who  stood 
foremost  in  theological  movements,  were  in  correspondence  with 


INTRODUCTION  XIU 

him  and  eagerl}'  sought  his  opinions  on  the  religious  questions  of 
the  day.  The  many  pupils  who  were  indebted  to  him  for  a  large 
part  of  their  theological  and  philosophical  training  learned  to  ad- 
mire the  greatness  of  his  mind  and  the  loftiness  of  his  character. 
There  was  besides  a  great  circle  which,  though  never  under  his  im- 
mediate tuition,  felt  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  him  for  quickened  im- 
pulses to  high  thinking  and  right  living. 

But  to  the  religious  world  in  general  he  was  comparatively  un- 
known. For  more  than  half  a  century  he  was  active  with  his  pen. 
In  books,  tracts,  and  Revieio  articles,  he  discussed  man^^  problems 
of  far-reaching  significance  for  the  Church  and  society,  with  great 
depth  and  strength  of  thought  and  wonderful  comprehensiveness 
of  grasp.  His  attitude  was  in  the  main  one  of  antagonism  to  pre- 
vailing views ;  and  whilst  here  and  there,  outside  the  bounds  of  his 
own  Church,  a  solitary  thinker  grappled  with  him  in  single  combat, 
the  theological  schools  went  quietl}'  and  unheedingly  on  their  way. 
The  hour  had  not  yet  arrived  when  these  should  be  living  questions 
for  them.  In  his  own  Church,  indeed,  his  writings  always  earnest, 
bold,  clear  and  vigorous,  excited  much  controversy  which  was  often 
violent  and  bitter;  but  the  religious  public  in  general  seemed  to 
think  this  was  only  a  family  quarrel  with  which  it  was  in  no  wise 
concerned,  though,  in  truth,  the  questions  at  issue  were  of  such 
fundamental  character  as  to  involve  an  entire  reconstruction  of  the 
reigning  conceptions  of  Christianity  and  the  Church. 

Unfortunately  for  his  renown.  Dr.  Nevin's  lot  was  cast  with  one  of 
the  smaller  tribes  of  Israel.  From  conscientious  motives  he  left 
the  Presbyterian  Church,  in  which  there  opened  up  before  him  the 
prospect  of  a  most  brilliant  future,  to  enter  the  German  Reformed 
Church,  which  at  the  time  was  ver}-  insignificant  as  regards  the 
territor}'  it  occupied  and  the  membership  it  enrolled.  Since  then, 
it  is  true,  and  largely  through  his  influence,  it  has  made  consider- 
able progress,  and  it  is  now  far  more  widely  known  and  better  un- 
derstood. Fifty  3'ears  ago,  however,  few  beyond  its  own  narrow 
boundaries  were  aware  even  of  its  existence.  The  Theological 
Seminar}'  in  which  he  taught  and  the  College  of  which  he  was  the 
head  were  located,  at  the  time  of  his  most  intense  activit}',  in  the 
obscure  village  of  Mercersburg,  hidden  from  the  public  gaze.  They 
were  just  struggling  into  life  and  were  without  prestige  among  the 
educational  institutions  of  the  land.  Here  he  unselfishly  labored, 
burying,  as  it  seemed  to  man}^  his  splendid  talents  from  the  sight 
of  men.  But  he  never  had  any  desire  to  emerge  from  the  moun- 
tains and  valleys  of  his  native  state  and  occupy  a  position  of  more 


XIV  INTRODUCTION 

prominence  before  the  world.  His  only  ambition  was  to  perform 
his  special  task  in  the  hnmble  position  Providence  had  assigned 
him.  And  so,  when  he,  a  faithful  servant  of  more  than  four  score 
years,  passed  awaj'^  from  earth,  many  had  not  even  heard  of  his 
name,  or  if  they  had,  knew  nothing  of  the  achievements  of  his  life. 

Moreover,  of  many  of  his  opponents  it  may  be  truly  said  that  not 
understanding  him  aright,  the}^  often  attributed  to  him  views  he 
did  not  entertain.  This  was  due,  not  to  any  vagueness  of  his  opin- 
ions or  to  any  lack  of  clearness  in  expi'essing  them  •  nor  yet,  we  may 
well  believe,  to  a  deliberate  purpose  to  wrong  him  by  misrepresen- 
tation ;  but  simply  to  the  fact  that  his  intellectual  world  was  for- 
eign to  theirs  and  his  modes  of  thought  new  and  strange  to  them. 
And  besides,  as  he  was  progressive  in  his  tendencies,  he  passed 
through  several  phases  of  belief,  which,  while  they  seemed  to  him- 
self to  be  in  the  line  of  a  continuous  harmonious  development  of 
the  truth,  appeared  to  many  others  to  involve  inconsistencies  and 
self-contradictions.  Quite  naturally  he  was  subjected  to  much  mis- 
conception. In  view  of  these  facts  it  is  highly  desirable  as  an  act 
of  simple  justice  to  the  memory  of  a  great  and  good  man,  that  his 
life  should  be  presented  to  the  world  as  a  whole,  that  all  may  see 
it,  not  in  disconnected  fragments,  but  as  a  unity  in  which  the  sev- 
eral parts  stand  in  organic  relation  to  each  other. 

But  this  biography  is  called  for  by  other  and  more  general  con- 
siderations than  such  as  are  merely  personal.  It  is  indeed  a  tribute 
of  affection  and  esteem,  which  his  many  admiring  friends  wish  to 
see  paid  to  the  memoiy  of  one  the}^  so  justly  revered.  But  at  the 
same  time  it  possesses  an  interest  for  the  religious  world  at  large. 
It  records  the  life  and  labors  of  a  profound  theologian  who,  in 
advance  at  least  of  American  scholars,  discussed  many  questions 
of  central  significance  to  Christianity  and  the  Church.  They  were 
questions  which  had  as  yet  forced  themselves  on  the  minds  of  few 
thinkers  in  this  country,  and  the  need  of  solving  them  was  hardly 
felt.  It  was  on  this  account  mainly  that  Dr.  Nevin  was  so  little 
appreciated  in  his  day.  The  mind  of  the  age  was  not  yet  read}^  to 
grapple  with  the  problems  on  which  he  bestowed  such  earnest 
thought.  But  these  very  questions  are  now  demanding  serious  at- 
tention and  are  fast  becoming  the  live  questions  in  the  religious 
world,  because  theology  is  more  and  more  ruled  bj^  the  Christo- 
logieal  tendency,  and  men  are  seeking,  as  ncA^er  before,  to  find,  as 
Dr.  Nevin  did,  the  principle  of  Christianity  in  Christ  Himself. 
Just  at  the  present  time,  the  divided  state  of  the  evangelical 
Churches  is  almost  universally  deplored  as  a  great  misfortune,  and 


INTRODUCTION  XV 

the  healing  of  these  divisions  is  a  question  that  now  occupies  the 
mind  and  heart  of  man}-  a  devout  thinker.  Dr.  Xevin  in  his  day 
wrestled  earnestly  with  this  problem,  and  we  doubt  not  that  his 
views  will  in  the  near  future  be  studied  with  interest  and  profit. 
Though  he  belonged  to  a  denomination  and  taught  its  theolog}^ 
yet  he  went  fairly  beyond  it  into  the  field  of  general  theology.  And 
in  this  view  this  biograph}-  possesses  a  value  for  the  Church  at 
large. 

Shortly  after  Dv.  Xevin's  death,  at  the  meeting  of  the  Alumni 
Association  of  Franklin  and  Marshall  College,  which  was  attended 
by  many  of  his  former  students,  a  committee  was  appointed  to 
prepare  a  memorial  of  his  life  and  labors.  After  due  consideration 
this  work  Avas  committed  into  the  hands  of  Dr.  Theo.  Apj^el,  who 
is  one  of  the  oldest  of  the  Alumni,  had  studied  under  Dr.  Xevin 
in  the  College  and  Seminary  at  Mercersburg,  had  been  his  colleague 
for  man}'  j'ears  as  Professor  both  at  Mercersburg  and  at  Lancaster, 
is  well  acquainted  with  his  modes  of  thought,  and  possesses  the 
requisite  qualifications  for  a  work  of  this  character.  At  the  next 
annual  meeting  of  the  Alumni  Association  in  1887,  the  selection 
made  by  the  Committee  was  approved;  and  with  this  kind  of  moral 
support,  together  with  the  advice  of  Dr.  Schaff,  Dr.  Appel  consent- 
ed to  undertake  the  task,  which  he  found  to  be  one  of  more  than 
ordinary  diflicult}^,  requiring  the  careful  examination  of  original 
sources,  with  much  study  and  thought.  The  result  of  his  arduous 
labors  is  now  laid  before  the  public,  with  the  hope  that  it  may  meet 
with  a  generous  reception  and  contribute  to  a  better  knowledge  of 
one  whose  life  has  been  a  benediction  to  the  world. 

FREDERICK  A.  GAST,  D.  D. 
Lancaster,  Pa.,  Dec.  4,  1889. 


JOHN  WIl.IJAMSOX  NEVIN 


CONTENTS 


Dedication. — Introduction. — Table  of  Contents 1-24 

I— THE    NEVIN   FAMILY 

Chapter  I. — Scotch  Ancestors. — The  "Williamsons. — A  Patriot. — Daniel  and 
Margaret  Neviu. — Their  Descendants. — Captain  David  Nevin. — His 
Family. — John  Nevin. — An  Educated  Farmer. — His  Wife  Martha. — 
Their  Sons  and  Daughters 25-28 

II— EARLY   YOUTH   FROM    1803-1817 

Chapter  II. — "My  Own  Life." — Birth. — Religious  Training. — Educational 
Religion. — The  Catechetical  System. — Church  Life. — The  Old  Reformed 
Faith. — Dr.  Moody. — Changes. — Preparation  for  College. — A  Poem  on 
the  Middle  Spring  jNIeeting  House 29-3-4 

III— AT    SCHENECTADY   FROM    1817-1821 

Chapter  III. — Starts  for  Schnectady,  N.  Y. — Dr.  Hugh  Williamson. — En- 
ters Union  College. — The  Youngest  in  His  Class. — College  Life. — A  New 
Phase  of  Religion. — Uuchurchly. — A  Revival  Breaks  Out. — Religious 
Experience. — Joins  the  Church. — Graduates  with  Honor. — The  Revival 
System. — Criticisms. — Returns  Home,  a  Bankrupt  in  Health. — Dyspep- 
sia Under  Its  Worst  Form 35-39 

IV— AT    HOME    FROM    1821-1823 

Chapter  IV. — A  Valetudinarian. — A  Thorn  in  the  Flesh. — Morbid  Piety. — 
Conflict  Between  the  Old  and  the  New. — Confusion  of  ]Mind. — A  Tumul- 
tuating  Chaos. — Diversions. — Botany. — A  Debating  Club. — Orderly  Ser- 
geant.— Hesitation  aud  Doubt. — In  a  Fog. — Chooses  Theology. — Goes 
to  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton,  N.  J 40-4() 

Y— AT    PRINCETON    FROM   1823-1828 

Chapter  V. — In  a  Quiet  Harbor. — Pleasant  Impressions. — The  Professors. 
— The  Old  Dualism  Not  Yet  Resolved. — Strong  Cries  aud  Tears. — The 
Two  Systems. — Puritan  vs.  Reformed. — Distaste  for  the  Hebrew. — Good 
Advice. — Masters  the  Hebrew. — The  Best  Hebrew  Scholar  in  his  Class. 
— A  Determining  Influence. — Still  at  Sea. — A  Father's  Sensible  Letters. 
— Fills  Dr.  Hodge's  Chair  for  Two  Years. — A  More  Cheerful  Life. — 
Exercises  on  Horseback. — Writes  His  Biblical  Antiquities — A  Valuable 
Work. — Returns  Home 47-54 

YI— AT    HOME    FROM    1828-1830 

Chapter  VI. — Licensed  to  Preach. — Dr.  Herron  and  the  Western  Theologi- 
cal Seminary  at  Allegheny,  Pa. — Selected  to  be  One  of  its  Professors. — 
1* 


XVIU  CONTENTS 

An  Interim. — Studies  Political  Economy. — Begins  to  Preach. — Method 
and  Style. — An  Humble  Opinion  of  His  Sermons. — Much  of  a  Botch. — 
The  Father's  Approval. — Religious  Zeal. — Family  Worship. — The  Tem- 
perance Cause. — Not  the  Right  Man. — An  Incident. — The  Father's 
Death. — The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Sorrow. — A  Beautiful  Testimony. — 
Removes  to  Allegheny,  Pa 55-61 

VII— AT    ALLEGHENY    FROM    1830-1840 

Chapter  VII. — The  Western  Seminary. — A  New  Enterprise. — Its  Feeble 
Beginnings. — Colleagues,  Dr.  Halsey  and  Elliott. — Hard  Work. — Finds 
a  Pleasant  Home  with  Dr.  Herron,  his  Father's  Friend. — Marries  Miss 
Martha  Jenkins. — The  Jenkins  Family. — A  Wise  Choice. — Sons  and 
Daughters. — Ordained  to  the  Ministry. — An  Evangelist. — Writes  for  the 
Press. — Sermons  and  other  Publications 62-67 

Chapter  VIII. — Editor  of  the  Friend,  a  Christian  Monthly. — Its  High 
Tone. — Its  Narrow  Stand-point. — Realistic  and  Reformatory. — De- 
nounces Intemperance  and  other  Sins. — Attacks  Slavery. — A  Tempest 
of  Abuse. — The  Friend  Comes  to  Grief. — Self-Defense. — A  Mild  Form 
of  Abolitionism. — The  Valedictory. — A  Parthian  Arrow. — A.  Solemn 
Warning. — Justification  in  1861. — The  Intolerance  of  the  Times. — A 
Curious  Illustration 68-76 

Chapter  IX. — The  Presbyterian  Schism. — A  Via  Media. — A  Declaration 
Put  on  Record. — Conscientiousness. — Dogmatic  Slumbers. — Dr.  Augus- 
tus Neander. — His  Magic  Wand. — His  Oeist  des  Tertullians.—Ris 
Church  History. — The  Church  Fathers. — Old  Heretics. — Neander's  Mer- 
its and  Defects. — An  Historical  Awakening. — The  Value  of  History. — 
Self-Criticisms. — Christological  Defects. — The  Apostles'  Creed. — Other 
Defects. — Remarks. — Reminiscences 75-91 

Chapter  X. — The  German  Reformed  Church. — A  Vacant  Chair  in  its 
Theological  Seminary. — Rev.  S.  R.  Fisher. — A  Daring  Inspiration. — 
The  Synod  of  Chamber&burg. — Dr.  Nevin's  Unanimous  Election. — His 
Letter  of  Acceptance  of  the  Call. — Very  Satisfactory. — Removes  to  Mer- 
cersburg.  Pa , 92-99 

VIII— AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844 

Chapter  XI. — First  Impressions  of  Dr.  Ranch. — Ranch's  Psychology. — 
Princeton  Review. — Dr.  Nevin's  Review  of  the  Work 100-107 

Chapter  XII. — Inaugural  Address. — The  Christian  Ministry. — Its  Dignity 
and  Power. — The  German  Character. — The  German  Cliurches.-^More 
Laborers 108-116 

Chapter  XIII. —Address  on  Party  Spirit. — The  Nature,  the  Evil  and  the 
Cure  of  Party  Spirit T" . '  .  TT  .  ' 117-125 

Chapter  XIV. — An  Excursion. — Eastern  Pennsylvania. — American-Ger- 
mans,— Their  Country. — A  Promising  Field 126-132 

Chapter  XV. — The  Synod  of  Greencastle. — The  Centennial  Celebi-ation 
Inaugurated. — Its  Happy  Termination. — The  Centennial  Hymn.  133-137 

Chapter  XVI.— The  Death  of  Dr.  Rauch.— A  Sketch  of  His  Life.— Eulo- 
gium  by  Dr.  Nevin 138-144 

Chapter  XVII. — Articles  on  the  Heidelberg  Catechism. — Its  History  and 
Genius 144-156 

Chapter  XVIII. — A  Tract  for  the  Times. — The  Anxious  Bench  Controversy. 
— Its  Beginning,  Progress  and  Termination 157-177 

Chapter  XIX, — An  Address  on  the  German  Language. — Its  Excellence,  Its 


CONTENTS  Xix 

Fulness,  Expansiveness,  Depth,  Force,  Flexibility,  and  Value  to  the  Stu- 
dent and  Scholar 178-107 

Chapter  XX. — The  German  Professorship. — Dr.  Krummacher  Elected  but 
Declines  the  Call. — Dr.  Schatt"  Accepts. — His  Reception.  —Inaugural  Ad- 
dress.— The  Principle  of  Protestantism 198-205 

Chaptku  XXI.— Theses  for  the  Time— The  Church  in  General.— The  Refor- 
mation.— The  Present  State  of  the  Church 200-210 

Chapter  XXII.— Dr.  Nevin's  Sermon  on  Catholic  Unity.— The  Nature  and 
Constitution  of  the  Christian  Church. — The  Duty  of  Christians  in  Re- 
gard to  Its  Unity 217-226 

IX— AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853 

/chapter  XXIII. — The  Protestant  Banner.— Dr.  Joseph  F.  Berg. — His  First 
Attack, — The  Reply. — Articles  on  Pseudo- Protestantism. — The  Lord's 
Supper. — The  Roman  Catholic  Church. — Religious  Radicalism  .  227-241 

Chapter  XXIV. — The  Synod  of  York.— The  Professors  Arraigned. — 
Charges  Not  Sustained  by  the  Synod. — A  Just  Decision.— Controversies 
Begin,  Extending  Over  ]Many  Years 242-250 

Chapter  XXV. —The  Principle  of  Protestantism  Reviewed  by  the  P/'i«cei'o?t 
Repertory  and  the  Biblical  Repository. — Professor  Taylor  Lewis. — The 
Flight  of  Time,  a  Poem 251-204 

Chapter  XXVI. — The  Mystical  Presence  by  Dr.  Nevin  Appears. — A  Review 
of  it  by  Dr.  Ebrard 206-279 

Chapter  XXVII.— Reply  to  Dr.  Hodge's  Review  of  the  Mystical  Presence. 
— Its  Significance. — Siutual  Respect 280-298 

Chapter  XXVIII. — The  Mercershurg  Revieio  Founded. — Its  History. — Ar- 
ticles Contributed  by  Dr.  Nevin. — The  Lutheran  Confession  .    .  299-309 

Chapter  XXIX.— The  Anglican  Crisis. — Its  Signiflbance.— Its  Defects — 
High  Church  and  Low  Church  Criticised 310-320 

Chapter  XXX. — Brownson's  Review. — The  Error  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
Theory  of  the  Church 321-337 

Chapter  XXXI. — Early  Christianity. — False  Theories  of  the  Church,  An- 
glican and  Puritan. — Cyprian. — The  Theory  of  Historical  Development. 
— Church  (Juestion  Not  Yet  Solved 338-368 

Chapter  XXXII. — True  Catholicity.— Organic  not  Abstract  .    .    .  369-395 

Chapter  XXXIII.— Dr.  Berg's  Last  Words.— A  Fanatical  and  Tyrannical 
School. — Severe  Language. — Self-Defence. — Dr.  Berg's  Coadjutors,  Dr. 
Proudfit  and  the  Christian  Intelligencer. — The  So  Called  Dutch  Cru- 
sade.— A  Better  Feeling 390-409 

Chapter  XXXIV. — Two  Extremes. — Romanizing  Tendencies, — A  Just  Es- 
timate of  Dr.  Nevin  by  Dr.  Schaff 410-417 

Chapter  XXXV. — Dr.  Nevin  as  Professor  in  the  Seminary, — His  Method 
of  Teaching  Theology. — Final  Resignation.— An  Affecting  Scene  in  the 
Synod  at  Lancaster  in  1851. — As  President  of  ^Marshall  College. — Pater- 
nal Government. — The  College  Rallies. — Good  Management. — True 
Education.— Discipline. — A  Surprise. — A  Mistake. — The  Correction. — 
Good  Results. — A  Bright  and  Atlectionate  Student  Saved,  .    .    .  418-431 

Chapter  XXXVI. — The  College  in  Financial  Embarrassment. — Franklin 
College  at  Lancaster. — Consolidation  with  Marshall. — Difl&culties  Sur- 
mounted in  the  Board  at  Chambersburg,  in  the  Legislature  at  Harris- 
burg,  and  at  Lancaster. — An  Election  and  a  Close  Vote. — Dr.  Nevin 
Teaches  Mathematics  at  Mercersburg. — Dr.  Bucher  as  Agent  for  the 


XX  CONTENTS 

College. — His  Perseverance  and  Success. — Farewell  Words  at  Mercers- 
burg.^ — The  New  Faculty  Organized  at  Lancaster. — Dr.  Nevin  and  Dr. 
Schaff  Decline  the  Presidency. — Dr.  E.  V.  Gerhart  Becomes  President  of 
Franklin  and  Marshall  College. — Prof.  Adolphus  L.  Koeppen .  .  432-442 

X— IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861 

Chapter  XXXVII.— The  Formal  Opening  of  the  College  at  Lancaster.— 
Dr.  Nevin's  Address. — Pennsylvania,  the  Sleeping  Giant. — Anglo-Ger- 
man Education. — Anglo-Germanism. — Lancaster  City  and  County. — 
Commencement  at  Lancaster. — The  Baccalaureate  Address. — Man's 
True  Destiny 443-461 

Chapter  XXXVIII. — The  Church  Year. — Nature,  Time  and  Man. — The 
Pagan  Year.— The  Jewish  Year.— The  Christian  Year 462-480 

Chapter  XXXIX.— The  Liturgical  Movement. — The  Classis  of  East  Penn- 
sylvania in  1847. — The  Synod  of  Hagerstown  in  1848. — The  Synod  of  Nor- 
ristown  in  1840. — The  Liturgical  Committee  Appointed. — Dr.  Nevin 
Chairman. — His  Views  of  a  Liturgy  — Dr.  Schaff  Chairman  in  1851.— His 
Report  at  the  Synod  of  Baltimore  in  1852. — The  Provisional  Liturgy  Ap- 
pears in  1857. — Dr.  Schaflf's  Remarks  in  Regard  to  it. — Dr.  Nevin's  His- 
torical Account  of  its  Progress  and  Completion. — The  Liturgical  Move- 
ment in  the  West. — The  Synod  of  Chambersburg  in  1862. — The  General 
Synod  in  1863 481-493 

Chapter  XL. — A  Revision  of  the  Liturgy  Ordered. — The  Revised  Liturgy, 
or  the  Order  of  Worship  Api)ears  in  1806.— The  Synod  of  York,  1866, 
Sustains  the  Order  of  Worship. — The  Era  of  Liturgical  Controversy  Be- 
gins.^ — The  General  Synod  at  Dayton  in  1866. — Dr.  Nevin's  Speech. — A 
Long  Discussion. — The  Optional  Use  of  the  Revised  Liturgy  Granted. — 
A  Moral  Victory. — Dr.  Nevin's  View  of  Its  Significance. — His  Review  of 
the  Liturgical  Situation. — His  Vindication  of  the  Revised  Liturgy, 
Historical  and  Theological,  a  Tract  for  the  Times. — The  General  Synod 
at  Philadelphia  in  1869. — The  Liturgy  Endorsed. — Unpleasant  Discus- 
sions.— MyerstownConveutiun. — Good  and  Evil  Results. — General  Synod 
at  Lancaster,  Pa.,  in  1878. — Peace  Measures  Initiated  and  a  Happy  Meet- 
ing.— Peace  Commissioners  Appointed. — Their  Report  Adopted  in  1881. 
— The  Directory  of  Worship  Officially  Announced  by  the  General  Synod 
in  1887— Era  of  Peace 494-514 

Chapter  XLL— Address  on  the  Wonderful  Nature  of  Man. — The  Structure 
of  the  World. — Its  Prophecy  of  Man. — Its  Head  and  Meaning. — The  Hu- 
man Body. — Consciousness. — The  Moral  World. — Memory. — The  Rea- 
son.— The  Will. — The  Presence  of  Law. — Conscience 515-528 

Chapter  XLII. — Dr.  Bushnell  on  Nature  and  the  Supernatural. — Friendly 
Criticisms  by  Dr.  Nevin. — The  Constitution  of  the  World,  Physical  and 
Moral. — An  Organic  Unity  in  Christ. — Sin. — Redemption. — The  Incarna- 
tion.— Revelation.— A  Personal  Satan. — A  Defective  Christology. — The 
Continuance  of  Miracles. — Unchurchliness. — Want  of  Faith    .    .  529-550 

Chapter  XLIII. — Thoughts  on  the  Church. — The  True  Sen.se  of  the 
Church  Question. — The  Idea  of  the  Church. — What  is  the  Church  ? — 
The  Creed. — Faith  in  the  Church. — The  Unchurchly  Scheme. — The 
Church  Historical. — Antichrist. — Peter's  Faith 551-565 

Chapter  XLIV. — Hodge's  Commentary  on  the  Ephesians,  Reviewed  from 
the  Stand-point  of  the  Church. — Arminianism. — Calvinism. — Metaphys- 
ical Predestination. — ^Tlie  Scriptural  Idea  of  Election. — St.  Paul. — St. 
Peter. — Dualistic  Theory  of  the  Church. — The  Church  an  Organism. — 
Its  Objective  Life.— Noah's  Ark. — The  Incarnation 566-589 

Chapter  XLV. — Lectures  on  History. — Biography. — ^National  History. — 
Universal  History. — Objective  and  Subjective. — A  Unity  or  Totality. — 


CONTENTS  XXI 

The  Idea  of  World  History. — Cliroiiolo<;ically  and  Syiichroiiolojrically 
Considered. — Philosouhy  of  History. — The  Tiuc  Sense  of  History. — 
Christianity.— Christ. — Learninj;-  — Faith. — Imagination. — Ex-President 
Buehanan. — He  Joins  the  Chureh. — ^Tlie  Orj^anization  of  the  Colle<re 
Congregation   in   18G5 59()-(><)4 

Chapter  XLVI. — Third  Centennial  of  the  Adoption  of  the  Heidelberg 
Cateehisni  in  18<)3. — General  Convention  in  Philadelphia  from  .Jannary 
17th  to  Jannary  24tli. — Papers  from  German  and  American  Divines  Read 
at  tlie  Convention. — The  Tercentenary  Monnment. — Dr.  Nevin's  Sermon, 
on  the  Undying  Life  in  Christ. — The  Same  Yesterday,  To-day,  and 
Forever. — Christ  and  the  Wcnld. — Christ  in  Humanity  and  History. — 
Christ  the  Absolute  Fountain  of  all  Truth  and  Reason. — Practical  Re- 
marks   (i05-6a7 

Chapter  XLVII. — Progress  of  the  College  at  Lancaster. —Elder  Henry 
Leonard. — The  Return  of  Peace. — Its  Animating  lutiuence. — The 
Friends  of  the  College  Rally  in  lS(i(). — The  Movement  to  Increase  the 
P^ndowment. — Enthusiasm. — Reorganization  of  the  Faculty.— Dr.  Nevin 
Elected  President  of  the  College. — Hon.  John  W.  Killinger. — Professor 
Thomas  C.  Porter. — Dr.  Nevin's  Letter  of  Acceptance. — Commence- 
ment xVddress. — A  Survey  of  the  Situation. — The  Animating  Features 
and  Signs  of  the  Times. — The  Greatness  of  Our  Ct)untry. — Its  World- 
Historical  Character. — Its  Future. — A  New  Era  in  History  and  the 
Church. — Our  Danger,  Our  Duty,  and  Our  Responsibilities  .    .  628-654 

Chapter  XLVIII. — The  I-^ndowment  Movement. — Dr.  B.  C.  Wolff' as  Agent. 
— His  Success. — Mr.  Lewis  Audeuried. — His  Generous  Bequest. — An 
E.xcursus. — The  Hon.  William  J.  Baer. — The  Wilhelm  Family. — Its 
History. — Kiuderlehre. — Benjamin  and  Peter. — A  New  Church. — The 
Laying  of  the  Corner-stone. — The  Consecration. — Rev.  A.  B.  Koplin. — 
His  Fidelity. — The  Wilhelm  Estate  Bequeathed  to  the  College  and  Sem- 
inary.— A  Legal  Obstruction. — A  Critical  Situation. — Court  of  Eijuity. 
— A  Compromise.— The  Legacy  Saved. — Herman  L.  Baer,  Esq.,  Hon. 
A.  H.  Coffroth,  Judge  Jeremiah  S.  Blank,  Hon.  John  Cessna,  Hon. 
Thos.  E.  Franklin,  and  George  F.  Baer,  Esi[. — Alumni  Professorship. — 
Harbaugh  Hall. — Rev.  C.  U.  Heilmau  as  Agent. — The  Academy  Build- 
ing.— Another  Huge  Pile  of  Bricks. — Deficits  in  the  Treasury. — Resig- 
nation of  Dr.  Nevin. — He  Goes  Into  Retirement. — His  Influence  Con- 
tinues to  be  Felt. — The  College  Continues  to  Prosper 655-666 

Chapter  XLIX. — Lectures  on  ^Esthetics.— The  Idea  of  Beauty. — Objective 
Beauty. — The  Sublime  in  Time,  Space,  and  in  Dynamics  or  I'ower. — 
The  Subjective  Sublime  in  the  Will, — Good  and  Bad. — The  Subjective 
Apprehension  of  the  Sublime. — The  Comic. — The  Burlesque,  Wit, 
Humor,  and  the  Naive. — Nature  Beauty. — The  Phantasy. — The  Fine 
Arts 667-685 

Chapter  L.— Lectures  on  Philosophical  Ethics. — Lemmata  or  Postulates, 
Derived  From  Metaphysics,  Psychology,  and  Piactical  Philosophy. — 
The  True,  the  Beautiful  and  the  Good. — Ethical  Ideas.— The  Idea  of 
Right. — Its  Actualization.— The  Idea  of  Social  Integration. — The  Idea  of 
Religion,  as  the  Bond  of  the  Two  Other  Ideas. —The  Freedom  of  the 
Will.— The  Natural  Will.— Its  Transition  to  a  Higher  Stage  of  Char- 
acter.— The  Suj)reme  Good  in  the  Psychological  and  Ethical  Sense. — 
Character.— Ethical  Character. —  Virtue. — Its  Relation  to  Duty  and  the 
Good. — Its  Contents. — As  an  Endowment — The  Conception  of  Duty. — 
Its  Relation  to  Virtue. — Duties  to  Ourselves. — Duties  to  Others. — Col- 
lision of  Duties. — The  Good. — The  Development  of  the  Idea  of  Right. — 
Actualization  of  the  Idea  of  Social  Integration. — The  Actualization  of 
the  Idea  of  Religion. — Its  Relation  to  Morality. — Its  Embodiment  in  the 
Church. — The  iS'ecessity  of  Christianity. — The  God-Man  in  Christ. — 
Ethics,  the  Handmaid  of  Christianity 686-700 


XXll  CONTENTS 

Chapter  LI. — Self-criticism  in  1870. — Theological  Progress. — German  Liter- 
ature.— The  Rationalistic  Element. — Abstract  Supernatural  ism. — Au- 
dover. — Knapp. — Testimony  of  the  Spirit. — Hermeneutical  Enlargement. 
— Ernesti. — Grammatico-Historical  Interpretation. — Two  Revelations, 
The  Outward  Word  and  the  Interior  Sense. — The  Human  and  the  Di- 
vine in  Scripture.— Luther  and  the  Bible. — The  Christological  Method.  — 
Herder,  Lowtli  and  Michjelis. — The  Theanthropic  Sense. — Pia  Desideria, 
— Rationalist  Supernaturalism,  in  Germany  and  This  Country. — Person- 
al Religion. — Francke,  Bengel,  Zinzendorf,  Spener,  and  the  Wesleys. — 
Henry  Scongal. — Shaw's  Immanuel. — Mysticism. — De  Imitatione  Christi. 
— Illustrations  of  the  Interior  Sense  of  Scripture. — Seventieth  Birth-Day. 
A  Presentation. — An  Historical  Response. — Mutual  Kind  Wishes. — The 
Reformed  Synod  — Many  Disciples 701-727 

Chapter  LII. — Our  Relations  to  Germany. — Charge  of  Germanizing. — An 
Opposite  Charge. — Dr.  Dorner's  Favorable  Opinion  of  the  Liturgy. — 
His  Exceptions  to  its  View  of  Ordination  and  the  Christian  ^linistry. — 
Respect  for  German  Learning. — Its  Christological  Tendency. — Its  De- 
fects.— Review  of  Dorner's  History  of  Protestant  Theology. — Its  Strength 
and  Its  Weakness. — Answer  to  Dr.  Dorner 728-739 

XII— IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1876-1886 

Chapter  LIII. — Mystical  Tendency. — Bereavements. — Emanual  Sweden- 
borg  and  Professor  Thiersch. — Mojhlei's  and  Gorres's  View  of  Sweden- 
borg. — Dr.  Nevin's  View. — Articles  in  the  Reformed  Church  Review. — The- 
osophy. — A  Healthy  Reaction  to  Intellectualism. — Last  Articles  for  the 
Review. — The  Interior  Sense 740-749 

Chapter  LIV. — Reminiscences. — Last  Sermons. —Spiritual  Enlargement. — 
Ceases  to  Preach  and  to  Write. — Looking  for  the  Coming  of  Christ. — 
Failing  Eye-sight.— Conversation  with  a  Young  Friend. — Love  for  the 
Bible. — Memorizing  the  Scriptures. — The  World  an  Ocean  of  Mist. — 
Ceases  to  Attend  Divine  Worship. — Last  Communion  on  Easter  Sunday. 
— An  Affecting  Scene. — Little  Children. — Ejaculatory  Prayer. — A  Scene 
in  his  Class-room. — A  Tribute  of  Respect. — Birth-day  Anniversaries. — 
Visitors. — Great  Conversational  Powers. — Physical  Weakness. — Pre- 
monitory Symptoms. — Last  Sabbath. — Death. — Funeral  Service.- — Ser- 
mon and  Address. — At  the  Grave. — Memorial  Services. — Commencement 
of  1886. — Endowment  of  the  Presidency  of  the  College. — Memorial  Vol- 
ume.— Observatory. — Memorial  Window. — An  Elegy 740-761 

Chapter  LV. — Correspondence, — Condolence. — Letter  to  Mr.  George  Be- 
sore. — Letter  to  Rev.  Dr.  John  Casper  Bucher— Letter  to  Mrs.  Alexander 
Brown. — Notes  of  a  Great  Sermon. — Concluding  Remarks. — Alphabetical 
Index 762-768 


THE   LIFE  AND   A^^ORK 


JOHi\  WILLIAMSON  NEVIN 


I-THE  NEVIN  FAMILY 


CHAPTER  I 


~^T"EYIX,  or  its  equivalent  MacXevin,  is  an  historical  name  in 
^^  the  annals  of  Scotland  and  Ireland.  Two  of  the  race  came 
to  Xevv  York  from  the  north  of  Ireland  about  the  middle  of  the 
last  century.  One  of-  them  settled  in  the  state  of  New  York,  along 
the  Hudson,  where  his  descendants  at  the  present  time  are  numer- 
ous and  respectable.  Daniel,  liis  younger  brother,  continued  his 
journey  into  Penns3'lyania,  and  cast  in  his  lot  with  what  are  some- 
times called  the  Scotch-Irish  settlers,  in  the  Cunil)erland  Yalley,  a 
religious  and  intelligent  class  of  peoi)le,  who,  like  himself,  had  fled 
from  oppression  in  the  same  part  of  Ireland. 

Here  in  the  course  of  time  he  married  a  widow,  who  had  been  the 
wife  of  Mr.  Reynolds,  from  whom  descended  a  family  of  children 
that  reflected  honor  on  their  parents.  Her  maiden  name  was  Mar- 
garet "Williamson,  a  lady  of  superior  natural  intelligence,  and  of 
decided  force  of  character.  She  was  a  sister  of  Hugh  Williamson, 
M.D.,  LL.I).,  who  w^as  on  the  medical  staflf  during  the  Revolution, 
a  member  of  the  Continental  Congress,  one  of  the  framers  of  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States,  and  otherwise  distinguished,  l)oth 
during  and  after  the  war,  as  a  patriot  and  an  eminent  American  citi- 
zen. He  was  a  writer  of  some  distinction,  the  author  of  a  History 
of  North  Carolina  and  other  publications.  The  AYilliamsons  were 
of  English  origin,  although  the  family  had  a  ti'aditiou,  whetlier  true 
or  not,  l)ased  on  its  coat  of  arms,  and  other  considerations,  that  they 
were  in  the  line  oi'  descent  from  the  celebrated  Scottish  chieftain, 
2  (25) 


26  THE    NEVIN    FAMILY  [DiV.   I 

William  Wallace,  whose  daughter,  or  near  relative,  married  a  Will- 
iamson. They  came,  however,  from  England,  where  one  of  the 
family  was  an  Episcopal  clergyman,  and  is  said  to  be  honoralily  rep- 
resented at  the  present  daj^  by  his  descendants  in  the  tliird  and 
fourth  generation. 

Daniel  and  Margaret  Nevin  lived  on  a  farm  near  the  present  vil- 
lage of  Orrstown,  in  Franklin  county.  Pa.,  in  full  view  of  the  North 
Mountain.  They  were  blessed  with  three  daughters  and  two  sons ; 
and  through  them,  with  numerous  descendants  who  have  reflected 
credit  on  their  name  as  ministers,  lawyers,  doctors,  editors,  authors, 
or  as  successful  business  men.  The  daughters  of  Daniel  Nevin 
were  married  into  families  of  good  standing  :  Sarah  to  Daniel  Hen- 
derson; Elizabeth  to  John  Pomeroy;  Mary  to  Cook  and 

McClay.     Their  sons  were  John  and  David,  the  former  a 

farmer,  the  latter  a  merchant.  Their  children  and  children 's  children 
came  to  be  much  esteemed  in  their  respective  communities.  Major 
David  Xevin  established  himself  at  Shippensburg  as  a  successful 
merchant  and  business  man.  Clear-headed  and  progressive  in  his 
tendencies,  he  added  farm  to  fiirm  during  his  lifetime,  and  being 
pleasant  in  his  manners  and  on  the  popular  side  in  politics,  he  was 
alwa^'s  elected  to  posts  of  honor  when  he  received  the  nomination. 
The  immense  crowd  which  attended  his  funeral  showed  the  high 
estimation  in  which  he  was  held  by  the  community.  He  had  six 
sons  and  five  daughters,  two  of  the  latter  having  died  at  an  early 
age:  Caroline,  married  to  Wm.  Rankin,  M.D.;  Jane  M.,  to  Charles 

M.  Reynolds,  merchant;   Mar}'^,  to Tustin;  Joseph  P.  and 

Samuel  W.,  merchants;  William  Wallace,  M.D.;  David  Robert  Bruce, 
law^'er;  and  Edwin  Henry  and  Alfred,  the  remaining  sons,  who  be- 
came eloquent  divines  in  the  Presbyterian  Church,  well-known  doc- 
tors of  divinity,  popular  writers,  and  the  authors  of  a  number  of 
meritorious  books  or  pamphlets  on  moral  and  religious  subjects. 

It  was  thought  that  John,  the  older  brother  of  David,  and  father 
of  John  Williamson,  as  he  was  of  a  quiet  and  studious  disposition, 
should  receive  a  collegiate  education,  and  })erhaps  enter  one  of  the 
learned  professions.  Accordingly  he  was  sent  to  Dickinson  Col- 
lege at  Carlisle,  Pa.,  then  under  the  presidency'  of  Dr.  Nisbet,  a  dis- 
tinguished Scotch  divine,  where  he  graduated  in  1795. 

One  of  his  class-mates  was  Roger  B.  Tane}^  afterwards  Chief 
Justice  of  the  United  States,  who  was  his  successful  competitor  at 
graduation  in  canying  off  the  highest  prize  for  scholarship,  in  a 
class  of  twent3'-four  members.  As  this  nice  point  of  honor  was  de- 
cided by  a  majority'  of  the  class,  and  perhaps,  at  times,  b}^  their 


Chap.  1]  john  and  mahgaret  nevkv  2*7 

preferences,  his  inei'e  selection,  as  one  out  of  two  competitors,  was 
an  evidence  of  his  high  standing  as  a  schohir  among  his  feHow  stu- 
dents. Young  Xevin  took  as  the  theme  of  his  graduating  speech 
the  "  Sin  of  Slaver}',"  with  which  his  successful  rival,  Mr.  Tane}', 
ma^^  not  have  altogether  sympathized  at  the  time.  After  his  gradu- 
ation he  was  somewhat  at  a  loss  to  know  Avhat  his  proper  calling  in 
life  was  to  l)e;  but  at  length,  either  from  natural  timidity  or  love 
of  rural  pursuit,  he  chose  the  noble  profession  of  farming;  married 
Martha  McCracken,  a  woman  of  decided  character,  adorned  witli 
many  virtues ;  and  settled  in  a  home  of  his  own,  on  llerron's  Branch, 
near  Shippensburg,  and  subsequently  on  Keasey's  Run,  not  far  from 
the  neighboring  village  of  Strasburg.  Thus  he  became  what  is  some- 
times called  a  "Latin  Farmer,"  one  who  could  teach  his  sons 
Latin,  Greek,  or  other  l>ranches  of  a  higher  education  in  his  own 
fomily.  Private  life  was  preferred  to  a  public  one,  but  he  stood  in 
such  high  estimation  among  his  fellow  citizens  for  his  intelligence 
and  sterling  integrity',  that  the}'  concluded  to  send  liiiu  to  Congress 
as  their  representative,  which,  it  was  said,  was  frustrated  only  by 
his  death  in  1829.  He  liecame  a  Trustee  of  Dickinson  College,  his 
Alma  crater,  in  1827,  which  was  prol)ably  the  only  i)ublic  oftice  he 
ever  tilled. 

He  seemed  to  be  naturally  unaggressive,  apparently  too  timid  to 
make  a  prayer  of  his  own  in  public;  but  it  was  his  highest  ambition 
that  his  sons  should  be  trained  for  posts  of  honor  and  usefulness  in 
their  day — perha})S  to  supplement,  as  it  were,  his  own  backward- 
ness in  the  noisy,  busy  world.  As  for  himself,  with  his  love  f»r 
nature,  he  chose  to  pursue  his  course  along  life's  sequestered  vale, 
apart  from  its  contentions,  in  congenial  rural  pursuits.  He  was  a 
diligent  reader  of  the  best  authors,  and  an  attractive  conversation- 
alist. His  meagre  supply  of  I»ooks  was  consideralily  enlarged  when 
his  uDcle,  Dr.  Williamson,  h'ft  liim  his  librai-y  at  his  death  in  1819. 
It  was  a  compliment  to  him  as  one  who  was  most  likely  to  apjire- 
ciate  such  a  gift.  Occasionally  his  quiet  life  in  the  country  was  re- 
lieved of  its  monotony  by  summer  visits  from  his  uncles.  Dr.  Hugh 
Williamson  of  Xew  York,  or  Captain  John  Williamson,  a  wealthy 
merchant  of  Charleston,  South  Carolina.  Both  were  gentlemen 
of  the  old  school  in  dress  and  manners,  and  arrested  considerable 
attention  among  the  country  people  during  their  visits.  Much  more 
of  a  sensation,  however,  was  produced  on  such  occasions  among  the 
nei)hews  and  nieces  of  tlu'  Nevin  family,  who  usuall}'  received  hand- 
sonic  gifts  or  k('('[)sakes  from  tlicir  uncles, especialh' from  the  wealthy 
iiicichMut  (Voni  the  South.     The  latter  at  his  decease  bequeathed  to 


28  THE    NEVIN    FAMILY  [DiV.  I 

the  Xevins  in  Pennsylvania  a  large  tract  of  land  in  the  West,  and 
John,  with  one  of  his  nephews,  went  out  to  look  after  it  and  secure 
it  for  the  family.  The  trip,  which  was  successful,  was  one  of  the 
few  that  took  him  any  distance  from  his  home.  At  Nashville  he 
called  to  pay  his  compliments  to  General  Andrew  Jackson,  the 
"idol  of  the  people"  in  those  daj^s,  and  was  entertained  by  him  in 
generous  style  at  The  Hermitage ;  no  doubt  because  he  came  from 
Pennsylvania  and  was  a  good  representative  of  its  patriotic  people. 
John  Nevin  and  his  wife,  Martha,  had  six  sons  and  three  daugh- 
ters:  Margaret,  married  to  John  K.  Finley,  M.D.,  Professor  of  Na- 
tural Science  in  Dickinson  College  whilst  under  Presbyterian  con- 
trol ;  Elizabeth,  married  to  Rev.  Dr.  A.  Blaine  Brown,  son  of  the 
distinguished  Rev.  Dr.  Matthew  Brown,  and  his  successor  as  Pres- 
ident of  Washington  College,  Washington,  Pa. ;  Martha  Mary,  de- 
ceased, married  to  John  Irvin,  Esq.,  merchant,  and  honored  Elder 
in  the  Presbyterian  Congregation  at  Sewickly,  Pa.  ;  Theodore,  a 
prominent  banker  and  prosperous  business  man  of  Pittsburgh,  and 
also  Elder  in  the  Sewicklj^  Congregation,  lately  deceased;  Robert, 
editor  and  author  of  abilit}"  at  Pittsburgh,  still  living;  Daniel  E., 
clergyman,  teacher,  author,  and  an  Israelite  without  guile,  now 
deceased ;  William  M.,  Professor  in  Marshall,  and  in  Franklin  and 
Marshall  College,  from  1840  to  the  present  year  1889,  poet  and 
humorous  writer,  honored  by  Dickinson  College,  his  Alma  Mater, 
with  the  title  of  LL.D. ;  and  John  Williamson,  the  eldest  in  the 
famil}",  whose  life  and  spirit  it  is  the  object  of  this  volume  to  por- 
tray. 


II-EARLY  YOUTH  FROM  1803-1817 

^t  1-14 


CHAPTER  II 


AS  DR.  XEYIX  advaiK'ed  in  years  and  fame,  lie  was  reciuested, 
-^-^  from  time  to  time,  to  furnish  -the  necessary  material  for  a 
sketch  of  liis  life,  to  be  given  to  the  world  in  some  })ermanent  form. 
In  the  year  1870,therefoi"e,he  concluded  to  write  out  his  biography 
in  a  series  of  articles,  which  were  i)nblished  in  the  Me.ssenf/er,  the 
organ  of  the  Reformed  Church,  commencing  in  the  month  of  March 
and  ending  in  Jul}-,  uncler  the  title  of  "My  Own  Life."  The}'  give 
a  full  account  of  his  inner  and  outer  life,  with  self-criticisms,  until 
his  removal  from  Alleghen}-  Citj',  Pa.,  to  Mercersburg,  Pa.,  in  the 
spring  of  the  year  1840.  It  was  his  intention  at  some  future  time 
to  resume  the  thread  of  his  histor}^  onward  to  the  period  when  he 
wrote,  but  for  various  reasons  the  task,  unfortunately,  was  never 
resumed,  and  it  has  devolved  upon  the  writer  to  supply  the  public 
with  the  record  of  the  remainder  of  his  long  and  stirring  career  as 
best  he  can,  from  the  material  on  hand.  It  has  been  deemed  best, 
on  the  wliole,  to  reproduce  the  autobiography,  quoting  from  it  when 
deemed  necessary,  and  at  other  times  making  a  liberal  use  of  its 
language,  without  always  informing  the  reader. 

John  Williamson  Nevin  was  born  on  Ilerron's  Branch, near  Shi})- 
ponsburg,  Franklin  county,  Pa.,  on  Sunday,  February  20,  1803. 

He  alwaj^s  regarded  it  as  an  important  part  of  his  youthful  train- 
ing and  worthy  of  note,  that  he  sfjcnt  his  early  days  on  a  farm,  in 
the  midst  of  a  people  of  plain  and  simple  manners  ;  that  he  thus 
became  fiimiliar  with  the  scenes  and  emplo^'ments  of  country  life; 
and  that  he  was  jiut  to  all  sorts  of  farm  work,  just  as  soon  and  as 
far  as  it  was  found  that  he  could  render  himself  useful  in  that  wa\-. 

He,  however,  thought  that  it  w^as  a  matter  of  still  greater  ac- 
count, that  he  was  so  fortunate  as  to  receive  a  healthy  religious 
training  from  his  earliest  years.  He  was  by  birth  and  l)h)od  a 
Presl)yterian  ;  and  as  his  parents  were  both  conscientious  and  ex- 
emplary professors  of  religion,  he  Avas  brought  up  in  the  nurture 
an<l  admonition  of  the  Lord,  according  to  the  ancient  Presb^'terian 

(  "20  ) 


30  EARLY    YOUTH    FROM    1803-1817  [DiV.   II 

faith  and  practice,  which  at  the  time  had  not  undergone  an}^  mate- 
rial change  from  that  of  the  forefatliers  in  Scothmd  and  Ireland. 
The  Presbyterianism  prevalent  in  the  Cumberland  Yalley  at  the 
beginning  of  the  present  century,  was  based  throughout  on  the 
idea  of  covenant  familj^  religion,  of  church  membership  by  a 
holj^  act  of  God  in  baptism ;  and,  following  this  as  a  logical  se- 
quence, there  was  regular  catechetical  training  of  the  young,  with 
direct  reference  to  their  coming  to  the  Lord's  Table.  In  a  word,  it 
proceeded  on  the  theory  of  a  sacramental,  educational  religion, 
that  belonged  properly  to  all  the  national  branches  of  the  Reformed 
Church  in  Europe  from  the  beginning.  In  this  respect  the  Re- 
formed Churches  of  Switzerland,  France,  Germany,  Holland,  Eng- 
land and  Scotland  were,  when  properly  understood,  all  of  one 
mind ;  and  at  the  time  to  which  we  here  refer,  this  mind  ruled 
the  Presbyterianism  of  this  country.  It  is  true,  no  use  was  made 
of  confirmation  in  admitting  catechumens  to  full  communion  with 
the  Church;  but  there  was  that  which  was  considered  to  be  sub- 
stantially the  same  thing  in  the  wa^-  they  were  solemnl}^  admitted  to 
the  communion  by  the  Church  Session.  The  s^'stem  was  churchly, 
as  holding  the  Church,  in  her  visible  character,  to  be  the  medium  of 
salvation  for  her  baptized  children,  in  the  sense  of  that  memorable 
declaration  of  Calvin,  where,  speaking  of  her  as  the  Mother  of  be- 
lievers, in  the  fourth  book  of  his  Institutes,  he  says  :  "  There  is  no 
other  entrance  into  life,  save  as  she  may  receive  us  in  her  womb, 
give  us  birth,  nourish  us  from  her  breasts,  and  embrace  us  in  her 
loving  care  to  the  end." 

This  was  the  system  of  educational  religion  under  which  it  was 
the  good  fortune  of  Williamson  Xevin  to  spend  the  first  3'ears  of 
his  life,  in  connection  with  the  best  kind  of  parental  care  at  home, 
in  the  Presb3'terian  Church  at  Middle  Spring,  a  fcAv  miles  north  of 
Shippensburg.  He  was  baptized  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Robert  Cooper, 
just  about  the  time  the  A'acant  charge  passed  over  into  the  hands 
of  the  Rev.  Dr.  John  Mood}',  who  served  it  for  half  a  century  with 
fidelity,  success,  and  in  primitive  simplicity.  The  latter  made  many 
happy  impressions  on  the  mind  of  young  Nevin,  watched  his  career 
with  paternal  interest  as  he  rose  from  one  post  of  honor  to  another, 
and,  with  no  unfriendly-  criticism,  rejoiced, as  he  once  told  the  writer, 
to  see  him  so  high  above  him  in  the  Church  of  Christ.  He  l)ecame 
a  venerable  patriarch  in  Israel,  honored  by  all  who  knew  him;  and 
Dr.  Nevin,  his  spiritual  son,  who  had  learned  so  many  wholesome 
lessons  from  him,  had  the  pleasure  of  obtaining  for  him  the  doc- 
torate whilst  he  was   President  of  Marshall  College.     It  was  an 


ClIAP.  II]  RELIGIOUS   TRAINING  31 

honor  wvW  bestowed,  and  well  deserved  towards  the  close  of  n  long 
and  faithful  ministry. 

In  the  course  of  time,  however,  a  chancre  came  over  the  TresbA-- 
terian  Church  at  large,  which  in  the  end  brought  with  it  corres- 
ponding changes  also  in  the  character  of  the  old  country  congre- 
gation at  Middle  Spring.  But  during  Dr.  Xevin's  childhood  and 
early  youth  the  spirit  and  life  of  the  congregation  continued  to  be 
what  they  were  from  the  beginning.  Pastoral  visitation  was  a  busi- 
ness as  much  as  preaching.  The  schoolmaster  stood  by  the  side  of 
the  pastor  as  the  servant  of  the  Church;  the  school  was  regarded  as 
its  necessary  auxiliar}-;  and  the  catechism  stood  in  honor  and  use 
everywhere,  as  the  great  organ  or  ruling  power,  which  was  to  pro- 
mote a  sound  religious  education  for  all  classes  in  the  congregation. 
Every  Sunday  evening,  especially,  was  devoted  to  more  or  less 
catechization  in  the  fjimily.  Children  were  put  on  simple  Bible 
questions  as  soon  as  they  could  speak.  Then  came  the  Mother''s 
Catechism,  as  it  was  called;  and  following  this,  the  Assembly's 
Shorter  Catechism,  hard  to  be  understood,  but  wholesome  for 
futuri'  use.  The  same  instruction  met  the  young  in  the  parochial 
school,  Avhere  it  was  usual  for  the  master,  in  those  days,  to  examine 
his  scholars  once  a  week  in  the  catechism.  All  this  Avas  a  part  of 
the  established  church  system ;  but  it  was  only  preparatory,  in- 
tended simi)ly  to  make  room  for  its  full  operation  in  a  higher  form, 
when  the  work  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  pastor,  who  regarded  it 
as  forming  the  main  portion  of  his  proper  pastoral  work. 

There  were  two  modes  in  which  such  salutary  church  instruc- 
tion was  carried  forward,  the  practice  varying  from  one  to  another 
in  different  years.  In  one  year  it  was  by  the  pastor  A'isiting  family- 
after  tamily  and  catechizing  each  household  separately  ;  while,  in 
another  3'ear,  it  would  be  done  by  bringing  together  whole  neigh- 
borhoods before  him,  at  some  central  place,  in  a  school-house  or 
some  i)rivate  dwelling,  where,  in  the  presence  of  the  elder,  an  ex- 
niniiiation  was  held  in  a  public  and  solemn  way.  On  these  occa- 
sions, the  children  were  examined  first;  but  after  them  the  grown 
people,  all  in  some  portion  of  the  Larger  Westminster  Catechism 
previously  assigned  for  the  purpose. 

All  this  was  in  harmony  with  the  general  church  life  of  those 
days.  It  was  staid,  systematic,  grave  and  somewhat  sombre,  mak- 
ing much  account  of  sound  doctrine;  wonderfully  bound  to  old  es- 
tablished forms,  and  not  without  a  large  sense  of  the  objective  side 
of  religion  as  embodied  in  the  means  of  grace.  There  was  much  of 
this  manifested, more  particularly  in  flic  use  of  the  holy  sacraments. 


32  EARLY    YOUTH    FROM    1803-1817  [DiV.   II 

The  children  of  church-members  were  all  baptized  with  few  or  no 
exceptions,  and  received  into  the  Christian  covenant  at  an  early 
day  as  a  matter  that  allowed  of  the  least  possible  delay.  Each 
communion  season  was  a  four-days-meeting,  very  solemn  through- 
out, where  all  revolved  around  the  central  service  of  the  Lord's 
Table  on  the  Lord's  Day;  with  a  real,  and  not  simply  nominal, 
hiuniliation  and  fast,  going  before  on  Friday,  in  the  way  of  special 
preparation  for  such  a  near  approach  into  the  presence  of  God. 

Seventy  years  ago,  this  was  the  general  order  of  religious  life 
in  all  the  Presbyterian  churches  in  the  Cumberland  Valley,  which, 
however,  in  a  great  measure  has  passed  away,  with  much  of  its 
solemnity  and  depth  of  feeling.  In  the  year  1870,  Dr.  Nevin,  con- 
templating the  great  revolution  which  had  come  to  pass  in  a  gentle 
and  noiseless  waj^,  thus  wrote : 

"Wonderful  to  think  of  it!  Not  only  Rouse's  Psalms — to  which 
I  seem  to  listen  still  as  a  fond  echo  borne  in  upon  my  soul  from  the 
old  stone  church  at  Middle  Spring — have  passed  away  with  the  en- 
tire generation  which  sung  them ;  but  the  old  catechetical  system 
also  is  gone,  and  along  with  it,  to  a  large  extent,  the  general  scheme 
of  religion  to  which  it  belonged,  and  which  served  to  hold  it  to- 
gether, something  which  it  is  difficult  for  the  present  generation  to 
understand,  or  to  make  any  proper  account  of  whatever." 

That  the  statements  here  made  in  regard  to  the  old  Presbyterian 
faith  are  not  overdrawn  may  be  readily  seen  by  a  careful  perusal  of 
a  work  entitled,  "^4  Book  of  Common  P?-a(/e?%  compiled  from  the 
authorized  Formularies  of  Worship  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  as 
prepared  by  Calvin,  Knox,  Bucer  and  others,"  published  by  Charles 
Scribner,  N.  Y.,  1857.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  it  made  its  appear- 
ance— pari  passu — in  the  same  ^^ear  with  the  Provisional  Liturgy  in 
the  German  Reformed  Church.  The  one  was  probably  the  echo  of 
the  other — as  deep  calleth  unto  deep. 

According  to  tradition,  Williamson  Nevin  when  a  child  could 
scarcely  pronounce  the  English  language  intelligibly  until  he  was 
five  or  six  years  old.  But  with  the  development  of  his  mind  there 
was  a  corresponding  development  in  the  use  of  words  accuratel^^  to 
express  his  thoughts.  An  elderly  German  lady — the  grandmother 
of  Rev.  Jolm  M.  Titzel,  D.D. — saw  him  as  a  child  twelve  years  old, 
M'hen  he  came  to  see  his  grandmother  near  Orrstown,  and  there 
heard  him  talk.  With  other  women  she  listened  to  him  with  sur- 
prise, and  wondered  where  he  had  obtained  all  this  knowledge. 

After  he  had  studied  the  elementary  branches  in  the  parochial 
school — learned  whatever  was  to  be  learned  there — his  fiitlier  took 


Chap.  II]  preparation  for  college  33 

him  ill  hnnd  to  prepare  liiiu  lor  foliege.  He  knew  tlie  value  of  a  clas- 
sical education  himself,  and  was  honored  for  his  superior  intelligence. 
01)servin<>-  tlie  Ituddiiis:  of  a  strong  intellect  in  his  first-l)()rn,  he  so 
superintended  his  country  training,  as  to  give  it  direction  from  the 
beginning  towards  a  full  course  of  college  study.  At  an  early  day, 
accordingly,  a  Latin  (xrammar  was  ])laced  in  his  hands,  and  the 
father  himself  became  the  tutor.  The  lessons  were  studied  irregu- 
larly, it  is  true,  sometimes  in  the  house  and  sometimes  in  the  field, 
and  there  was  no  fixed  hour  or  place  for  the  sub-freshman's  recita- 
tions ;  but  the  course  was  full  and  complete,  first  in  Latin  and  after- 
wards in  Greek,  and  the  drilling  was  thorough.  In  after  years  he 
was  W'ont  to  say  that  it  was  worth  more  to  him  than  all  that 
he  learned  of  these  languages  subsequently  in  passing  through  col- 
lege. In  this  kind  of  a  preparatory  school,  on  a  farm,  under  the 
eye  and  auspices  of  his  honored  sire,  and  with  no  proctor  to  en- 
force obedience  to  fixed  rules,  Williamson  made  rapid  progress  in 
his  studies — like  Cyrus  in  the  Cyropedia,  who,  according  to  Xeno- 
phon,  studied  ])ecause  he  loved  to  study.  He  was  prepared  to  enter 
college  when  he  was  only  a  little  over  fourteen  years  of  age. 

But  before  avc  follow  him  on  his  way  to  the  classic  halls  of  his 
Alma  Mater,  we  here  sui)ply  the  reader  with  a  few  reminiscences  of 
the  old  Middle  Spring  Meeting  House,  in  which  he  received  his  best 
religious  impression  during  his  earh'  years.  They  are  selected  from 
a  quaint  poem,  composed  by  his  l)rother.  Professor  William  M. 
Nevin,  after  a  pilgrimage  to  the  sacred  spot  during  the  year  1847. 

Welcome  to  me  once  more  this  lone  church-yard. 
To  which  this  June's  l)right  morn  have  strolled  my  feet ! 
Ah  !  from  the  village  left  still  hitherward 
Outdrawn  am  I  that  good  old  church  to  greet ; 
And  these  sad  graves,  to  pay  them  homage  meet, 
AVhat  times  I  come  back  to  this  neighborhood. 
Long  whiles  between,  where  erst  my  boyhood  sweet 
AVas  sped  ;  here  o'er  its  joys  despoiled  to  brood. 
But,  though  it  bringeth  dole  the  while,  it  doth  me  good. 

That  old  stone  church!  Hid  in  these  oaks  apart 
I  hoped  Improvement  ne'er  would  it  invade; 
But  oidy  Time,  with  his  slow,  hallowing  art, 
Would  touch  it,  year  by  year,  Avith  softer  shade, 
And  crack  its  walls  no  more,  Init,  interlaid. 
Mend  them  with  moss.     Its  ancient  sombre  cast 
To  me  is  dearer  than  all  art  disi)lMye(l 
In  modern  churches,  which,  by  their  contrast, 
^lake  this  to  stiiiid  forlorn,  licld  in  the  solemn  i):\st. 


34  EARLY    YOUTH    FROM    1808-1817  [DlV.  II 

For  me  of  reverence  is  that  church  possessed, 
For  in  my  childhood's  dawn  was  I  conveyed 
Within  its  dome,  when  was  high  Heaven  addressed. 
Me  to  renew,  and  solemn  vows  were  made, 
And  lymph  was  sprent,  and  holy  hands  were  laid. 
And  on  me  was  imposed  a  Christian's  name ; 
And  when  through  youth's  gay  wildering  paths  I  strayed, 
What  wholesome  truths,  what  heavenly  counsels  came! 
The  birthright  there  enfeoffed,  oh,  may  I  never  shame! 

Its  pews  of  pine  obdurate,  upright,  tall, 
Its  gallery  mounted  high,  three  sides  around. 
Its  pulpit  goblet-formed,  far  up  the  wall. 
The  sounding-l)oard  above  with  acorn  crowned. 
And  Rouse's  Psalms  which  erst  therein  did  sound 
To  old  fugue  tunes,  to  some  the  thoughts  might  raise 
Of  folk  forlorn  that  certes  there  were  found. 
Ah,  no !  I  wot  in  those  enchanting  days 
There  beauty  beamed,  there  swelled  the  richest  notes  of  praise. 

Out  from  that  pulpit's  hight,  deep  browed  and  graA^e, 
The  man  of  God  ensconced,  half-bust,  was  shown. 
Weighty  and  wise  he  did  ne  thump  nor  rave, 
Nor  lead  his  folk  upwrought  to  smile  nor  moan. 
By  him  slow-cast  the  seeds  of  truth  were  sown, 
Which,  falling  on  good  soil,  took  lasting  hold. 
Not  springing  eftsoons,  then  to  wilt  ere  grown, 
But  in  long  time  their  fruits  increased  were  told; 
Some  thirty,  sixt}'  some,  and  some  a  hundred  fold. 


Here  were  they  gathered  every  good  Lord's  Day 
From  town,  from  hamlet,  and  from  tarm  afar. 
Their  worldly  cares  at  home  now  left  to  stay. 
Was  nothing  here  their  pious  thoughts  to  mar ; 
The  time,  the  place  all  follies  did  del)ar ; 
The  Church  their  only  care ;  yet,  sooth  the  State 
Did  some  mislead,  who,  nothing  loth  to  spar, 
Ev'n  here  brought  in  untinieous  debate 
Their  party's  cause  to  uphold,  and  speed  their  candidate. 

*   *   * 

Now,  by  this  locust  bowing  down  the  knee 
As  would  he  wish  here  laid,  thus  let  me  pray; 
Kind  Saviour,  with  Thy  spirit  strengthen  me, 
And  play-feres  strown,  help  us  to  walk  the  way 
Our  fathers  trode,  and  never  from  it  stra^-  ; 
And  Avhen  at  length  Thou  com'st,  to  take  Thine  own. 
Grant  that  with  them  we  gathered  be  that  day. 
All  saved  and  blessed,  forever  round  Thy  throne, 
With  them  to  live,  and  love,  and  worship  Thee  alone. 


Ill- AT  SCHEiNECTADY  FROM  181M821 

^t.  14-18 


CHAPTER  III 


AFTER  Williamson  Xevin  had  fairly-  mastered  the  rudiments 
-^^^  of  the  ancient  languages  with  corresponding  English 
liranches,  it  was  supposed  that,  young  as  he  w-as,  the  time  had  ar- 
rived for  him  to  go  to  college.  His  uncle,  Captain  John  "William- 
son, after  Avhom  he  was  named,  assumed  the  cliarge  of  his  educa- 
tion, and  by  the  advice  of  his  brother,  who  was  still  living  at 
New  York,  in  the  fall  of  the  year  1817  he  was  sent  to  Union  Col- 
lege, Schenectady,  X.  Y.,  which  was  then  at  the  zenith  of  its  pros- 
perity under  the  presidency'  of  the  celel)ratcd  Dr.  Elii)]ialet  Nott. 
The  place  seemed  to  be  far  aAvay  at  that  time ;  and  although  the 
first  steamboats  were  running  on  the  Xorth  River,  it  took  in  fact 
as  much  time  to  reach  it  as  it  now  requires  for  an  overland  trip  to 
California.  On  his  way  he  met  for  the  last  time  his  patriarchal 
kinsman,  Dr.  Hugh  Williamson,  of  revolutionary  fame,  and  was 
sufficiently  overpowered  by  his  venerable  and  commanding  jjres- 
ence.  His  only  word  of  counsel  to  him  w'as  :  "  Take  care,  my  boy, 
that  you  do  not  learn  to  smoke ;  for  smoking  will  lead  you  to 
drinking,  and  that  is  the  end  of  all  that  is  good."  It  is  scarcely 
necessary  to  say  that  his  namesake  remembered  his  advice,  and 
kept  himself  aloof  from  smoking,  and  all  use  of  tobacco  or  licpior. 
Rut  this  requiied  no  s])ecial  effort  on  his  part,  as  he  no  doubt  be- 
lieved with  King  James  in  his  famous  "  Counterblast  "  to  toltacco, 
that  there  was  no  use  "in  men's  making  ciiimneys  of  their  moutlis." 

Union  College  had  at  this  time  a  better  reputation  than  it  de- 
served. Dr.  Nott  himself  took  only  a  small  part  in  its  actual  work 
of  instruction,  and  this  never  amounted  to  much  more  than  an 
cini)ty  form.  The  institution  lived  largely  on  the  outside  credit  of 
his  name.  It  was  a  mistake  that  young  Nevin  was  sent  to  college 
at  such  an  early  age.  He  was  the  youngest  and  the  smallest  stu- 
dent in  his  class,  and  a  mere  unfledged  boy,  it  might  be  said,  to  the 
end  of  his  college  course.  With  the  natural  timidity,  inherited 
from   his   fatlu-r,  he   couhl    hardly  connect   two  tlioughts  together 

(  35  ) 


36  AT    SCHENECTADY    FROM    1817-1821  [DiV.   Ill 

when  he  arose  to  speak  in  the  Literan^  Society,  and  was  surj^rised 
at  the  flow  of  words  and  ideas  that  came  from  William  Henry 
Seward,  several  classes  in  advance  of  him,  who  did  not  seem  to 
know  when  it  was  time  for  him  to  take  his  seat.  Little  did  Will- 
iamson imagine  at  this  time  that  probably  as  many  winged  words 
should  go  forth  from  his  tongue  and  pen  to  the  world  as  from  the 
embryo  statesman  of  ITtica,  N".  Y.  Although  a  retiring,  diffident 
youth,  he  formed  some  valuable  friendships  with  fellow-students 
which  continued  during  his  life  time.  Among  others  he  met  with 
Taylor  Lewis,  who  in  his  day  came  to  occupy  a  deservedly  high 
position  in  the  walks  of  American  literature.  The}"  were  difler- 
ently  constituted,  but  both  possessed  a  deep  reverence  for  what 
was  profound  and  spiritual,  and  became  congenial  friends,  whom 
no  difference  of  opinion  could  separate  as  the  years  rolled  around. 

The  young  student  from  Pennsjdvania  entered  the  Freshman 
Class,  studied  hard,  maintained  a  respectable  standing,  and  al- 
though his  studies  were  at  times  interrupted  by  ill  health,  he  grad- 
uated with  honor  in  the  year  1821.  But  his  health  broke  down, 
and  when  he  returned  to  his  home  he  became  a  burden  to  himself 
and  to  all  around,  as  he  says,  through  a  long  course  of  dyspeptic 
suffering,  on  which  he  afterwards  was  accustomed  to  look  back  "  as 
a  sort  of  horrible  nightmare,  covering  with  gloom  the  best  season 
of  his  youth." 

His  life  at  college  was  not  uneventful.  The  religious  experience 
through  which  he  then  passed  was  to  him  instructive,  and  indi- 
rectly, at  least,  exerted  a  salutarj^  influence  on  his  entire  subse- 
quent career.  But  favorable,  as  it  may  have  been  in  some  respects, 
yet  in  others,  as  he  aflSrmed  when  his  judgment  was  matured,  it 
was  decidedly  imfavorable.  Union  College  was  organized  on  the 
principle  of  representing  the  collective  Christianity  of  the  so-called 
evangelical  denominations,  and  as  a  consequence,  it  proceeded, 
throughout,  practically,  on  the  idea  that  the  relation  of  religious  to 
secular  education  is  something  abstract  and  outward  only — the  two 
spheres  having  nothing  to  do  with  each  other  in  fact,  except  as 
mutual  complemental  sides,  in  the  end,  of  what  should  be  con- 
sidered a  right  kind  of  general  human  culture.  This  is  a  common 
delusion,  by  which  it  is  imagined  so  widely,  that  the  school  should 
be  divorced  from  the  Church,  and  that  faith  is  of  no  account  for 
learning  and  science.  There  was  religion  in  the  college  so  far  as 
morning  and  evening  prayers  went,  and  the  students  were  required 
to  attend  the  different  churches  in  town  on  Sunday.  But  there 
was  no  real  church  life,  as  such,  in  the  institution.     It  seemed  to 


Chap.  Ill]  a  new  phase  of  RELUiiox  37 

l)e  only  for  the  purpose  of  apprenticing  its  pupils  in  the  different 
dei)artments  of  a  common  academical  knowledge,  and  not  at  all  in 
any  comprehensive  sense  for  bringing  them  forward  in  the  disci- 
pline of  a  true  Christian  life.  This  was  something  that  was  left 
to  outside  appliances  altogether,  more  or  less  sporadic  and  irregu- 
lar, and  was  in  no  wa^'  brought  into  the  educational  econoni}'  of 
the  college  itself,  as  its  all  pervading  spirit  and  soul. 

All  this  involved  serious  consequences,  as  a  matter  of  course,  al- 
though not  clearly  understood  at  the  time  b}-  an  ingenuous  youth, 
trained  in  the  old  Bcforriwd  faith  under  its  Presb3terian  form,  into 
which  he  had  been  baptized  at  Middle  Spring.  It  was  his  first 
contact  with  the  genius  of  New  England  Puritanism  as  a  new 
pliasis  of  religion.  This  was  something  very  plausible,  and  with 
his  limited  experience  he  was  not  in  a  condition  to  withstand  the 
shock.  For  him  it  amounted  to  a  serious  disturbance  of  his  whole 
previous  life,  if  not  a  complete  breaking  up  of  its  order.  He  had 
come  to  college  as  a  boy  of  strongly  pious  dispositions  and  exem- 
l»lary  religious  habits,  pious  without  exactly  knowing  it,  never 
douI)ting  that  he  was  in  some  waj"  a  Christian,  although,  unfor- 
tunately, as  he  sa^'s,  he  had  not  as  3et  made  a  public  profession  of 
religion.  But  now  one  of  the  first  lessons  inculcated  on  him  by 
this  unchurchly  sj'stem  was  that  all  this  must  pass  for  nothing,  and 
that  he  must  learn  to  look  upon  himself  as  an  outcast  from  the 
famil}'  and  kingdom  of  (Jod — in  the  gall  of  bitterness  and  the  bonds 
of  iniquity — before  he  could  get  into  either  in  the  right  waj-. 

Such,  he  sa^s,  esjjeciall}',  was  the  instruction  he  received  from 
others  around  him,  when  a  "revival  of  religion,"  as  it  was  called, 
liroke  out  among  the  students,  and  brought  the  instruction  which 
he  had  received  to  a  i)ractical  application.  It  took  place  in  close 
connection  with  an  extended  system  of  religious  excitement,  which 
the  celebrated  Mr.  Nettleton  Avas  then  carrying  on  in  that  region 
of  country.  To  the  minds  of  man}-,  and  to  that  of  the  student 
from  Penns3lvania,  he  was  the  impersonation  of  the  Apostle  Paul. 
The  sj'stem  appeared  under  its  best  character,  it  will  be  freely  ad- 
mitted, under  his  direction,  and  was  altogether  diflferent  from  what 
it  afterwards  became  in  the  hands  of  such  men  as  Finne}'  and  Gal- 
lagher, when  Mr.  Nettleton  himself  withdrew  from  it  his  counten- 
ance. The  awakening  in  the  college  was  no  part  of  its  proper 
order.  Dr.  Xott  had  nothing  to  do  with  it;  it  formed  in  facta 
sort  of  temporary  outside  ei)isode,  conducted  by  the  Professor  of 
Mathematics,  an  adroit  manager,  and  certain  '"pious  students" 
])it'vi(uis]y  Christiani7A'd  bv  the  working  of  the  machine,  who  now. 


38  AT    SCHENECTADY    FROM    1S17-1821  [DiV.  Ill 

after  such  drilling  and  nianipnlation,  were  supposed  to  he  compe- 
tent to  assist  him  in  liringing  sonls  to  their  new  birth. 

Along  with  others  Williamson  Nevin  came  into  their  hands  in 
the  anxious  meetings  and  underwent  "  the  torture  of  their  mechani- 
cal counsel  and  talks,"  as  he  expresses  it  in  his  autobiography. 
One  after  another,  however,  of  "the  anxious"  obtained  hope,  each 
new  case,  as  it  were,  stimulating  another,  and  finally,  among  the 
last,  he  struggled  into  something  of  the  sort  himself,  with  a  feeble, 
ti"embling  sense  of  comfort,  which  his  spiritual  advisers  then  had 
no  difficult}^  in  accepting  as  all  that  the  case  required.  In  this  way 
he  was  converted,  as  he  imagined,  and  brought  into  the  church  as  if 
he  had  been  altogether  out  of  it  before,  about  the  close  of  the 
seventeenth  year  of  his  age.  His  conversion  he  thought  was  not 
fully  up  to  his  own  idea  at  the  time  of  what  such  a  change  ought 
to  be;  but  it  was  as  earnest  and  thorough,  no  doubt,  as  that  of  any 
of  his  fellow-students — certainly  more  solid  and  fruitful  than  that 
of  the  i)rofessional  conductor  of  this  revival,  who  subsequently 
showed,  sad  to  say,  how  deficient  his  own,  unfortunately,  was. 

Such  a  grave  and  thoughtful  Christian  as  Dr.  Nevin  was  the  last 
person  in  his  rii)er  3-ears  to  undervalue  the  significance  of  this  mo- 
mentous crisis  in  his  life,  or  to  deny  altogether  the  benefit  he  de- 
rived from  it.  It  was  to  him  a  true  awakening  and  a  real  decision 
in  the  great  concern  of  personal,  experimental  religion,  which  car- 
ried him,  because  he  was  a  good  subject,  a  growing  young  Chris- 
tian, beyond  all  that  he  had  known  or  experienced  before.  As 
such  it  entered  deeply  into  his  subsequent  history,  where,  however, 
in  the  end,  the  truth  was  separated  from  the  dross  and  made  avail- 
able for  a  higher  purpose.  But  he  was  too  honest  and  truthful  in 
subsequent  years  not  to  utter  his  testimony  and  to  speak  freely  of 
the  vast  amount  of  error  that  was  involved  in  the  movement  from 
beginning  to  end.  Thus  he  expressed  himself  in  regard  to  it  in  his 
mature  years  : 

"  It  was  based  throughout  on  the  principle  that  regeneration  and 
conversion  lay  outside  of  the  Church,  had  nothing  to  do  with  bap- 
tism and  Christian  education,  required  rather  a  looking  away  from 
all  this  as  more  of  a  bar  than  a  help  to  the  process,  and  were  to  be 
sought  only  in  the  way  of  magical  illapse  or  stroke  from  the  Spirit 
of  God — denominated  by  Dr.  Bushnell  as  the  icfic  experience — as 
something  precedent  and  preliminary  to  entering  the  true  fold  of 
the  Shepherd  and  Bishop  of  souls !  To  realize  this,  then,  became 
the  inward  strain  and  etfort  of  the  anxious  soul ;  and  what  was 
held  to  be  saving  faith  in  the  end,  consisted  largely  in  a  belief  that 


CflAP.   Ill]  CRITICISMS  39 

the  reality  was  reached.  And  so  afterwards  also,  all  was  made  to 
turn,  in  the  life  of  religion,  on  alternating  frames  and  states,  and 
introverted  self-inspection,  more  or  less — under  the  guidance  of 
some  such  work  as  Edwards  on  the  Affections.  An  intense  sub- 
jectivity-, in  one  word,  which  is  alwa^-s  something  impotent  and 
poor,  took  the  place  of  a  proper  contemplation  of  the  grand  and 
glorious  objectivities  of  the  Christian  life,  in  which  all  the  true 
power  of  the  Gospel  lies. 

"  ]My  own  experience  in  this  way,  at  the  time  here  under  consid- 
eration, was  not  wholesome,  hut  rather  very  morbid  and  weak. 
Alas,  where  was  m}-  mother,  the  Church,  at  the  very  time  I  most 
needed  her  fo-itering  arms  ?  Where  was  she,  I  mean,  with  her  true 
sacramental  sympathy  and  care  ?  How  much  better  had  it  been  for 
me,  if  I  had  only  been  drawn  from  myself,  by  some  right  soul  com- 
munication with  the  mysteries  of  the  old  Christian  Creed  !  As  it 
was,  I  could  not  repeat  the  Creed,  and  as  yet  knew  it  only  as  one 
of  the  questionable  relics  of  Popery.  I  had  never  heard  it,  even 
at  Middle  Spring;  and  it  was  entirel}'  foreign  to  the  religious  life 
of  Union  College. 

"  So  I  went  on  with  m}^  spiritual  life  to  the  close  of  my  college 
course  in  1821,  when  I  returned  home  a  complete  bankrupt  for  the 
time  in  bodih'  health.  My  whole  constitution,  indeed,  was,  I  may 
say,  in  an  invalid  state.     I  was  dyspeptic  both  in  body  and  mind." 

Had  he  been,  after  his  awakening,  under  the  care  of  a  judicious 
pastor,  or  catechist,  who  would  have  taught  him  the  meaning  of 
the  Creed,  the  Lord's  Praver,  and  the  Ten  Commandments;  had 
he  then  with  others  been  asked  to  kneel  before  the  altar  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  congregation,  where  the  minister  could  pray  for  tliem 
that  they  might  receive  the  Holy  Spirit;  and  had  he  thus,  according 
to  the  Preslyterian  Liturg}-,  been  received  into  the  Church,  he 
would  have  been  very  much  strengthened  and  confirmed  in  his  faith. 
It  would  have  been  a  true  confirmation,  even  though  the  minister's 
hands  were  not  imposed  on  him  at  the  time.  And  the  probability, 
moreover, is,  that  he  would  have  returned  from  Schenectad}-  a  better 
Christian,  in  better  health,  and  in  a  more  cheerful,  happ}-  state  of 
mind. 


IV- AT  HOME  FROM  1821-1823 

^t.  18-20 


CHAPTER  IV 


DR.  XEVIN  having  graduated  when  he  was  still  in  his  nine- 
teenth year,  the  case  seemed  to  require  that  he  should  wait  a 
few  years  before  entering  upon  his  professional  studies.  His  mind 
would  become  more  mature,  he  would  be  better  acquainted  with  the 
world,  and  be  better  prepared  to  profit  by  the  new  studies  that 
might  engage  his  attention.  But  as  our  times  are  in  the  hands  of 
the  Lord,  so  here  in  his  case,  the  question  as  it  regards  what  he  was 
to  do  next  after  his  graduation,  was  decided  for  him  by  divine 
Providence  itself.  His  health  was  such  as  to  require  him  to  stay 
at  home  in  the  country,  and,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  to  do  nothing. 
His  disease,  d3'spepsia,  was  of  the  worst  kind  and  caused  him  much 
discomfort  and  suffering.  It  had  a  fashion  of  its  own,  and  it  was 
something  more  serious  a  good  deal  than  what  goes  by  that  name 
generally  in  our  da3^  It  appeared  in  the  character  of  a  new  disease, 
which  fell  as  a  scourge  on  sedentary  people,  particularly  of  the 
3'ounger  class.  We  give  a  description  of  his  sad  condition  at  this 
time  in  his  own  plaintive  language  : 

"  I  had  the  complaint  in  its  worst  character,  and  it  hung  on  to 
me  with  a  sort  of  death-like  grip,  which  for  a  time  seemed  to  mock 
all  hope  of  recovery  or  relief.  I  experienced  all  sorts  of  painful 
and  unpleasant  symptoms,  was  continually  miserable  and  weak, 
had  an  intense  consciousness  all  the  time  of  the  morbid  workings 
of  my  physical  system,  lived  in  a  perpetual  casuistry  of  dietetic 
rules  and  questions,  and  ran  through  all  imaginable  helps  and  cures, 
only  to  find  that  in  my  case,  at  least,  the}'  signified  nothing.  At 
the  same  time,  of  course,  the  disease  lay  as  a  cloud  upon  my  mind, 
entered  as  a  secret  poison  into  all  my  feelings,  and  undermined  the 
strength  of  ni}' will.  Emphatically  might  it  have  been  called,  in 
every  view,  a  thorn  in  the  flesh,  and  a  very  messenger  of  Satan  sent 
to  buffet  me  with  sore  and  heav}'  blows."  If  he  could  have  read 
German  at  this  time  and  sung  Luther's  great  psalm,  beginning 
with  the  sad  but  appropriate  words,  Aus  tiefer  Noth  schrei  ich  zu 

(  40  ) 


Chap.  IV]  morbid  piety  '  41 

Dir,  they  might  have  been  ii  comfort  to  him,  peiluips  medicine  both 
to  his  soul  and  body. 

"And  the  strength  of  Christ,  it  must  be  sorrowful!}-  confessed, 
was  not  made  perfect  in  my  weakness,  for  there  was  no  proper 
room  ottered  it  to  become  so,  in  the  reigning  character  of  m^'  re- 
ligious life  as  it  stood  at  this  time.  As  I  have  said  before,  this 
was  also  of  a  most  sickly-  d3-speptic  habit  and  I  Avas  poorly  quali- 
fied, therefore,  to  show  the  power  of  grace,  over  against  the  weak- 
ness of  nature.  No  doubt  my  physical  condition  had  itself  much 
to  do  with  the  morbid  character  of  my  religion,  since,  when  the 
whole  nervous  sj^stem  has  come  thus  to  be  disordered  and  de- 
ranged, it  is  not  possible  that  the  higher  life  of  the  soul,  in  any 
case,  should  not  become  involved,  more  or  less  seriously,  in  the 
general  wreck.  But  apart  from  this,  my  p^t}'  in  its  own  nature  was 
not  of  the  sort  required  for  such  an  emergenc}'  as  that  by  which  it 
was  now  tried  as  hy  fire.  It  was  of  the  sort  rather  to  aggravate  and 
increase  the  trial;  for,  as  I  have  already-  said,  it  was  intensely  sub-« 
jeetive  and  introspective.  Instead  of  looking  to  the  outward  re- 
deeming facts  and  powers  of  Christianity,  it  was  too  much  a  habit 
of  looking  into  its  own  constitution,  as  if  to  be  satisfied  with  the  ' 
goodness  of  this  first  of  all  were  the  only  way  to  true  religious  sat- 
isfaction in  au}-  other  form.  And  as  all  was  sure  to  be  found  largely 
unsatisfactory  here,  what  would  the  result  of  such  painful  autopsj- 
be — this  everlasting  studving  of  S3'mptoms,  this  perpetual  feeling 
of  the  pulse — other  than  the  weakening  of  faith,  and  the  darkening  > 
of  hoi)e,  and  the  souring  of  that  most  excellent  grace  of  charity  it- 
self, which  is  the  bond  of  perfectness  and  of  all  virtue — in  one  word, 
a  hopeless  valetudinarian  state  of  the  soul,  answering  in  all  respects 
to  the  broken  condition  of  its  outward  tenement,  the  bod}'. 

"  This  Avas  the  order  of  piety  I  brought  home  with  me  from  col- 
lege. It  was  not  after  the  pattern  which  had  been  set  before  me  in 
my  early  j-outh  in  the  Middle  Si)ring  Church.  But  the  Presbyte- 
rian churches  of  the  Valley  generall}^  and  Middle  Spring  itself,, 
were  not  true  to  their  old  position.  The  change  of  which  I  have 
spoken  before,  had  already  begun  to  make  itself  felt.  The  cate- 
chetical system  was  passing  away.  What  had  once  been  the  living 
power  of  the  old  style  of  religion  was,  in  fact,  dying  out ;  and  the 
motion  of  a  new  sort  of  religious  life,  heard  of  from  other  parts  of 
the  coiMitry,  or  exemplified  irregularly  among  outside  sects,  was 
silently  at  work  in  the  minds  of  many  ;  causing  it  be  felt,  more  or 
less,  that  the  modes  of  thought,  handed  down  from  the  fathers,  had 
become  a  good  deal  prosy  and  formal,  and  needed  at  least  todiave  in- 
3 


42  AT    HOME    FROM    1821-1823  [DiV.   IV 

fused  into  them  a  more  modern  spirit.  There  was  a  slow  process  of 
Puritnuizing  going  forward  tliroughout  the  Presbytery  of  Carlisle, 
which,  however,  was  still  met  with  no  small  amount  of  both  theo- 
retical and  practical  resistance  from  different  quarters,  giving  the 
case  the  character  of  a  continuous  drawing  in  opposite  directions, 
such  as  all  could  feel,  without  being  able  to  make  it  plain  in  words. 

"All  this  only  helped,  of  course,  to  promote  the  confusion,  which 
was  already  at  work  in  my  own  religious  experience.  As  a  conse- 
quence, I  was,  in  some  measure,  divided  between  the  conservative 
and  the  would-be  progressive  tendencies,  having  a  sort  of  constitu- 
tional inborn  regard  for  the  true  underlying  sense  of  the  first,  but 
being  drawn,  also,  toward  the  second  by  emotional  sensibilities, 
which  were  not  to  be  repressed.  I  held  on  outwardly  to  the  regu- 
larities of  the  old  Presbyterian  life,  as  they  were  kept  up  in  the 
Middle  Spring  Church ;  but  in  thought  and  feeling  I  went  far,  at 
the  same  time,  in  justifying  different  Methodistical  modes  of  piety, 
as  being  on  the  whole,  perhaps,  of  more  account  for  the  salvation 
of  the  world.  I  was  of  that  awakened  ^'oung  class  in  the  congre- 
gation, who  sow  for  the  most  p:irt  only  a  state  of  dead  formality  in 
its  church  services,  and  found  it  somewhat  difficult  to  believe  that 
the   older   sort  of  people  generally  had  any  kind  of  religion  at  all. 

"  So  much  then  for  my  general  religious  state,  as  far  as  I  can 
call  it  to  mind,  in  this  darkly  remembered,  and,  by  no  means,  pleas- 
ant interval  in  my  life.  It  was  confused  and  dark ;  I  might  also 
sa}',  without  form  and  void,  a  sort  of  tumultuating  chaos,  in  which 
conflicting  elements  and  forces  vainly  sought  for  reconciliation, 
and  which  it  was  plain  only  some  new  power  from  heaven  could 
reduce  to  order  and  peace.  As  for  theology,  my  great  vade  mecum 
and  thesaurus,  in  those  clays,  was  Scott's  heavy  Commentary  on 
the  Old  and  New  Testament." 

Under  these  circumstances,  it  could  hardly  be  expected  that  the 
A'aletudinarian  should  make  much  progress  in  his  knowledge  of  books, 
or  in  severe  intellectual  study  of  any  kind.  It  was  not  desirable 
that  he  should.  Evidently  he  already  knew  more  than  he  could 
digest,  and  it  was  enough  if  he  could  retain  the  small  amount  of 
learning  that  he  had  brought  with  him  from  college,  so  as  to  keep 
it  from  gliding  away  from  his  possession.  His  power  of  intellectual 
assimilation  was  not  much  better  than  that  which  was  physical,  and 
he  was  already  under  the  weight  of  a  double  dyspepsia.  Study,  or 
even  reading,  for  whole  weeks  and  months,  was  a  weariness  to  the 
flesh,  during  which  the  grasshopper  was  a  burden,  and  desire  failed, 
by  reason  of  physical  prostration. 


Chap.  IV]  diversions  43 

JJut  rrovicU'iice  itself  had  .sent  him  into  tliis  retreat  in  the  desert 
for  a  good  and  wise  purpose — that  he  might  rest  and  rally  his  ener- 
gies for  the  busy  life  that  was  to  follow.  He  was  in  the  right  i)lace, 
in  the  bosom  of  nature,  which  was  doing  for  him  more  perhaps  than 
he  was  aware  of.  During  these  two  years,  hoAvever,  he  was  V)y  no 
means  in  the  condition  of  a  hybernating  animal.  Jlis  condition  re- 
sembled rather  that  of  the  tields  covered  with  snow,  where  the 
growing  wheat  only  waits  for  the  April  sun  that  it  may  spring  up 
in  all  its  native  luxuriousness.  Unquestional»ly  he  must  have  made 
some  progress  in  strength  and  knowledge,  Avhether  he  observed  it  or 
not  in  his  autopsies.  There  was  a  useful  discipline  in  the  experience 
tlirough  which  he  was  called  to  pass;  and  his  outward  relations  and 
emi)loyments  became,  in  various  ways,  a  profitable  school,  whose 
practical  lessons  in  the  end  inured  to  the  benefit  of  others  no  less 
than  to  his  own. 

Sometimes  when  a  rich  dinner  was  served  for  the  famih',  whether 
its  very  odor  was  grateful  or  repugnant  to  him,  in  order  to  protect 
his  health,  to  the  dismay  of  father  and  mother,  he  would  denj'  him- 
self of  rich  viands,  mount  his  horse  and  ride  four  or  five  miles  off 
into  the  country.  Nature  was  to  him  the  best  nutriment.  In  his 
out-door  exercises  he  became  interested  in  the  science  of  Botany, 
and  during  the  summer  he  prosecuted  this  cheerful  study  with  much 
diligence  and  zeal,  scouring  the  countr}-  for  miles  around  on  foot  or 
horst'1)ack  in  search  of  plants  and  flowers.  Another  slight  exercise 
lu'  found  ill  improving  his  knowledge  of  the  French  language.  It 
did  not  occur  to  him  at  that  time  to  pay  any  attention  to  the  study 
of  the  (xerman.  He  was  surrounded  by  those  who  spoke  the  lan- 
guage, but  it  was  to  him,  then,  nothing  more  than  common,  useless 
P<')})}si/lraina  Dutch,  and  it  was  one  of  the  last  things  dreamed  of, 
that  in  after  life  he  would  turn  to  it  with  avidity  to  possess  him- 
self of  its  treasures.  That  was  a  discovery  whicli  he  made  oidy  in 
the  fulness  of  time. 

Another  diversion,  from  which  he  derived  an  im|)ortant  educa- 
tional advantage,  was  a  debating  clul)  in  the  ancient  borough  of 
Shippensburg,  nearer  to  which  his  father  had  come  to  reside.  This 
it  was  his  privilege  to  attend  regularly  every  week  through  the 
winter  months.  It  was  in  its  Avay  a  most  honorable  literary  senate, 
an  institution  like  many  others  in  the  rumberland  A'alley,  where 
the  Scotch-Irish  Presbyterians  trained  themselves  for  public  speak- 
ing. His  physical  ailment  naturally  led  him  at  this  time  to  dabble 
considerably  in  medical  reading,  whicli  ])robably  did  him  more 
li:u-ni  than  u'ood  ;   but  he  found  a  nujrc  liealthv  diversion  in  writiuij 


44  AT    HOME    FROM    1821-1823  [DlY.  lY 

for  the  public  press,  something  that  he  had  learned  from  his  father, 
which  disclosed  an  editorial  tendency  that  exhibited  itself  subse- 
quently likewise  in  other  members  of  the  Nevin  family.  A  num- 
ber of  his  poetical  productions,  based  on  David's  Psalms  or  the 
Odes  of  Horace,  appeared  in  a  religious  periodical  newly  started  at 
Carlisle,  in  whose  columns  Dr.  Bethune,  a  student  at  the  time  in 
Dickinson  College,  was  then  exercising  his  maiden  muse,  in  the 
same  way.  This  was  a  useful  literary'  exercise,  but  the  author 
naivel}'  remarks  in  his  review  of  himself,  that  whatever  talent  he 
may  have  had  for  the  composition  of  poetry  in  his  3'outh,  it  must 
have  left  him  afterwards — except,  we  may  add,  onl}-  on  one  or  two 
occasions.  With  this  spirit  of  poetry,  may  have  been  con- 
nected the  military  spirit,  which  led  him  into  a  crack  military  com- 
pany- at  Shippensburg,  and  filled  his  imagination  with  pleasant 
dreams,  more  or  less  romantic,  in  the  high  and  might3'  office  of 
Orderly  Sergeant^  with  which  he  had  the  honor  of  being  unan- 
imously invested  in  the  company. 

His  regular  business,  however,  so  far  as  he  could  engage  in  busi- 
ness at  all,  was  working  on  his  father's  farm.  At  first,  as  we  may 
suppose,  he  was  not  able  to  accomplish  much  in  this  direction  on 
account  of  his  general  physical  weakness.  But,  as  time  went  on, 
he  gradually  gained  a  certain  amount  of  strength,  and  in  the  end 
could  put  himself  to  all  kinds  of  agricultural  labor.  This  indeed 
seemed  to  be  the  only  chance  he  had  for  regaining  anything  like 
tolerable  health  ;  l.iut  he  came,  as  he  informs  us,  to  look  upon  it 
more  and  more  as  his  only  proper  avocation  for  life.  In  fact,  the 
idea  of  going  on  to  prepare  himself  for  a  learned  profession  was 
now  prett}'  effectively  crushed  out  of  his  mind.  ''  I  had  no  heart 
or  spirit,"  he  says,  "  for  anything  of  the  sort  and  was  disposed  to 
look  upon  my  existence  as  a  kind  of  general  failure."  He,  there- 
fore, continued  to  plough  and  harrow  his  father's  acres  ;  but  in  due 
course  of  time  God  called  him  from  the  plough,  as  He  did  Elisha 
of  old,  in  order  that  he  might  be  a  prophet  in  Israel. 

Although  a  broken  reed,  he  was  not  allowed,  after  all,  to  rest 
quietl}'  in  his  own  morbid  conclusions.  With  some  improvement 
in  his  health,  whilst  nearing  the  age  of  twent^^-one,  he  felt  himself 
urged  towards  a  resumption  of  study  through  inward  as  well  as  out- 
ward pressure  in  a  wa^-  which  became  more  and  more  difficult  to 
withstand.  There  was,  indeed,  but  one  direction  in  which  the  force 
of  this  constraint  made  itself  felt.  If  he  was  to  prepare  himself  for 
any  one  profession,  it  seemed  to  be  admitted  all  around  that  it 
must   be  the  Christian  ministry.     He  was   considered   to  have  a 


Chap.  IV]  hesitation  and  doubt  45 

born  (letermination  to  that  otlice  from  the  hegimiing-.  "That  was 
looked  at,"  he  sa3's,  "in  m}'  being  sent  to  college,  and  neighbors 
and  friends  held  it  to  be  my  proper  destination  afterwards,  pretty 
much  as  a  matter  of  course.  And  then  I  Mas  shut  up  to  it  also 
quite  as  decided!}',  in  m^'  own  mind,  so  far  at  least,  that  I  had  no 
power  to  think  seriously  of  any  other  profession.  I  could  not  de- 
vote myself  to  medicine  or  law.  But  just  here  came  in  my  chief 
difficulty.  Could  I  then  devote  myself  with  free  conscience  to 
divinity?  The  negative  side  of  the  call  was  clear  enough — this  pro- 
fession, or  else  no  profession;  but  how  altout  the  positive  side? 
^^^•^s  that  also  clear?  Not  by  mi}'  means  to  my  own  mind,  for  my 
whole  life,  as  already  shown,  was  in  a  fog.  This  it  Avas  especially 
that  caused  me  to  hesitate  and  pause,  when  all  around  me  appeared 
to  think  I  should  be  going  to  the  Theological  Seminar^y. 

"The  pressure,  however,  could  not  l)e  escaped,  and  so,  finally, 
through  no  small  tribulation  of  spirit,  I  was  brought  to  a  decision. 
I  would  at  all  events  go  to  Princeton  and  stud}-  theolog}*,  that ' 
much  at  least  Avas  settled.  Whether  I  would  enter  the  ministry 
afterwards  or  not,  was  another  question.  A  course  of  three  3'ears 
in  the  Seminary  might  solve  the  doubt  in  different  ways.  One  way 
thought  of  was  that  of  ray  own  death,  for  I  was  still  in  the  merci- 
less hold  of  what  I  felt  to  be  an  incurable  chronic  disease,  and  had 
a  general  imagination  that  my  life,  in  any  case,  was  destined  to  be 
short.  When  I  went  to  college,  it  had  been  with  great  misgivings 
in  regard  to  my  boyish  scholarship.  Such  was  my  high  ideal  at 
the  time  of  the  reigning  standard  of  college  education.  In  propos- 
ing to  enter  the  Theological  Seminary  I  had  like  imaginings  now  in 
regard  to  my  piety, which  I  felt  to  be  of  a  very  poor  sort  again,  over 
against  my  similar  idealization  of  the  reigning  piety  of  this  venera- 
ble institution.  Princeton  divinity  students,  as  far  as  the}'  ap- 
pealed among  us  at  Shippensburg  or  Middle  Spring,  liad  a  certain 
air  of  conscious  sanctimony  about  them,  which  seemed  to  be  re- 
buking all  the  time  the  common  worldlinesss  of  these  old  congre- 
gations, especially  on  Sundaj's;  and  gave  the  notion  of  a  i/oiiDf/ 
Preshi/fc?~ianism,  which  was  in  a  fair  wa}-  soon  to  turn  their  exist- 
ing religious  life  into  old  fogyism.  I  was  duly  impressed  with  all 
this,  in  the  case  of  three  or  four  excellent  young  men,  now  in 
heaven,  whom  I  well  remember;  and  it  was  not,  therefore,  without 
a  certain  degree  of  fear  and  trembling,  that  I  left  my  home  in  the 
fall  of  1828  and  l)ecame  matriculated,  as  a  student,  in  the  school  of 
the  i)rophets  at  Princeton." 


V-AT  PRINCETON  FROM  1823-1828 

^t.  20-25 


CHAPTER  Y 


THUS  for  a  second  time  young  Mr.  jVevin  left  his  home  in  Frank- 
lin County,  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  Kittatinnies,  to  pursue 
his  studies  elsewhere.  He  knew  whither  he  was  going,  and  the 
prospect  of  allaying  his  thirst  at  the  fountain  of  Presb^^terian 
theology  and  orthodoxy  was  not  without  its  charms.  He  was  not 
entirely  disappointed.  Theological  science  was  not  without  its  in- 
tricacies, and  had  its  difficult  problems  to  solve,  but  they  were  con- 
genial to  his  mind,  and  he  was  now  prepared  to  confront  them ; 
and  as  strength  permitted,  to  wrestle  with  them.  He  must  be  al- 
lowed here  to  give  his  own  impressions,  when,  over  fifty  years  after- 
wards, he  took  a  retrospective  view  of  his  life  at  Princeton. 

"  I  look  back,"  he  says,  "  upon  my  days  spent  at  Princeton,  as, 
In  some  respects,  the  most  pleasant  part  of  my  life.  My  entrance 
into  the  Theological  Seminar}'  brought  with  it,  of  itself,  a  certain 
feeling  of  repose,  by  putting  to  an  end  much  of  what  had  been 
painfully  undetermined  before,  in  regard  to  my  life,  and  by  offering 
me  the  prosi)ect  of  a  quiet  harbor  for  three  years,  at  least  (should 
I  live  that  long),  from  further  outside  cares  and  fears;  whilst  I  was 
met  here,  at  the  same  time,  with  all  the  oi)portunities  and  helps  I 
needed  for  prosecuting  with  energy  the  new  work  in  which  I  had 
embarked,  and  I  was  in  no  hurry  to  get  through  the  Seminary  as 
many  seemed  to  l)e.  Looking  beyond  it  to  me  was  only  looking 
into  the  dark.    I  cared  not  how  long  I  might  rest  in  it  as  my  home. 

"So  I  gave  mj'self  up  steadily  to  its  engagements  and  pursuits; 
and  I  did  so,  by  general  acknowledgment,  with  the  best  success. 
The  institution  itself  was  at  the  time,  I  may  say,  in  the  height  of 
its  prosperity  and  reputation.  Dr.  Miller  and  Dr.  Alexander  were 
in  the  full  vigor  of  tlieir  spiritual  poAvers,  the  two  men  1)est  qualified 
in  the  whole  Presbyterian  Church,  unquestionably,  for  the  high 
position  in  which  they  were  placed;  Avhile  Professor  Hodge,  still 
young,  and  only  recently  invested  with  the  distinction  of  being 
their  colleague,  gave  ample  promise  also,  even  then,  of  what  he  has 

(46) 


Chap.  V]  the  old  dualism  47 

since  become  for  the  Christian  world.  It  was  a  pi'ivilege  to  sit  at 
the  feet  of  those  excellent  men.  So  I  felt  it  to  be  at  the  time;  and 
so  I  have  never  ceased  to  regard  it  as  having  lieen,  through  all  the 
years  since.  On  the  best  terms  with  my  revered  instructors,  in 
most  pleasant  relations  throughout  with  my  fellow-students,  in  the 
midst  of  an  old  academic  retreat,  where  the  very  air  seemed  to  be 
redolent  of  literature  and  science,  with  no  necessity  and  no  wish  to 
pass  be^'ond  it,  is  it  any  wonder  that  I  came  to  look  on  Princeton 
as  a  second  home,  or  that  memory  should  still  turn  l)ack  to  Avhat  it 
then  was  for  my  spirit,  as  an  abode  oidy  of  pleasantness?  " 

Tills  hnppiness  and  peace,  however,  were  only  relative,  not  abso- 
lute, not  what  tlie  Italians,  in  their  fair  country,  call  a  dolce  far 
niente.  Thus  it  is  always  with  believers  in  their  pilgrimage  through 
this  vale  of  tears.  The  burden  that  he  had  brought  along  with  him 
to  the  Seminary  did  not  fjill  from  his  shoulders  when  he  crossed  the 
Delaware.  His  bodily  ailments  showed  some  promise  of  improve- 
ment, but  he  Avas  in  poor  health  all  the  while.  This  finally  took  the 
form  of  a  settled  affection  of  the  liver ;  a  hea^-y  burden  at  first, 
which,  however,  in  the  course  of  years,  grew  gradually  more  toler- 
able, although  as  late  as  the  year  1870  he  said  "  that  there  had  not 
been  a  day  of  his  life  up  to  that  time,  in  which  he  had  not  felt  more 
or  less  pain  from  this  additional  malady." 

He  had  also  brought  with  him  the  dualism  in  his  religious  life  to 
which  we  have  already  referred.  Embarrassments,  fears  and  doul)ts, 
with  regard  to  his  own  personal  religion,  the  result  of  reading 
many  casuistical  l)ooks,  still  attended  him,  as  it  seems,  all  the  time, 
as  they  have  many  other  earnest  believers,  who  have  not  always 
been  content  to  receive  the  kingdom  of  heaven  as  a  little  child  ;  or 
as  many  pagans  do,  when  they  first  hear  of  the  glad  tidings  of 
salvation. 

Coelum,  non  animum,  mutant. 
Qui  trans  mare  currunt. 

The  question  of  his  call  to  the  ministry  hung  with  him  always 
in  painful  suspense,  creating  within  him  doul»t  and  uncertainty 
whether  he  should  ever  be  able  to  enter  it  at  all.  There  was  much 
in  the  institution  to  promote  earnest  concern  of  this  kind.  Dr. 
Alexander's  searching  and  awakening  casuistr}^  especially  in  the 
Sunday-  afternoon  conferences,  was  of  a  character  not  easy  to  be 
forgotten.  It  was  by  no  means  uncommon,  we  are  told,  for  stu- 
dents, and  these  of  the  most  serious  and  enrnest  class,  to  go  away 
IVom  these  meetings  in  a  state  of  spiritual  discouragement  border- 
ing on  despair,  rathiT  than  in  the  spirit   that  called  them  in  ener- 


48  AT    PRINCETON    FROM    1823-1828  [DiV.   V 

getic  tones  to  watch  and  fight  and  pray.  Here  again,  Dr.  Nevin 
says,  he  had  his  own  experiences,  at  times  exceedingly  deep  and 
solemn,  often  with  strong  crying  and  tenrs,  going  in  the  way  of  a 
sonl-crisis  qnite  heyond  the  crisis  of  what  was  called  his  conver- 
sion at  Union  College ;  and  yet  never  coming  np  to  his  own  idea 
of  what  the  new  birth  onght  to  be. 

"  The  two  different  theories  Or  schemes  of  piety  refused  to  coa- 
lesce, and  there  seemed  to  be  no  one  at  hand  to  proclaim  a  broader 
and  a  better  one,  which  would  embrace  what  was  good  in  each,  and 
yet  stand  above  them  in  a  higher  life  of  the  soul.  The  Puritan 
theory,  coming  in  from  New  England,  pervaded  the  revival  system 
of  the  times,  and  assumed  to  be  the  onl}^  true  sense  of  the  Gospel 
all  over  the  country.  Over  against  it  stood  the  old  proper  Presby- 
terian theory  of  the  seventeenth  century,  which  was  also  the  gen- 
eral non-conformist  theory  of  that  time,  as  represented  by  Baxter, 
Owen,  Howe  and  other  like  teachers  of  the  same  age.  There  was 
a  difference  between  the  two  systems,  which  could  be  felt  better 
than  explained.  The  old  system  was  not  perfect,  nor,  by  any 
means,  all  that  the  true  idea  of  the  Church  required  ;  but  it  stood 
much  nearer  to  it  than  the  more  modern  one,  whose  great  charac- 
teristic it  was  on  principle  to  supplant  it,  and  to  be  unchurchly  and 
unsacramental  in  its  movements.  My  religious  life,  as  already 
stated,  started  in  the  bosom  of  the  old  Reformed  order.  It  be- 
longed to  the  Presbyterianism  of  the  Westminster  Assembl3\"  His 
rugged  nature  or  constitutional  life,  therefore,  would  never  allow 
him  to  feel  altogether  at  home  in  the  more  modern  system. 

"  The  instruction  I  received  at  Princeton,"  he  says,  "  had  much 
in  it  that  went  against  the  new  here,  and  in  favor  of  the  old.  Dr. 
Miller  was  strong,  more  particularly  in  certain  ecclesiastical  points, 
that  would  not  always  dove-tail  with  the  new  way  of  thinking ; 
while  Dr.  Alexander  was  alwa3\s  careful  to  recommend  the  divinity 
and  piety  of  the  seventeenth  century,  showing  that  they  formed 
the  elements  in  which  mainly  his  own  piet}^  lived,  moved,  and  had 
its  being.  But  with  all  this,  the  unchurchly  scheme,  nevertheless, 
continued  to  exercise  a  strong  practical  force  at  Princeton,  which 
an  unsettled  mind  was  not  always  prepared  to  withstand.  The 
teaching  was  perhaps,  not  in  all  cases,  steadily  and  consistently  in 
one  direction.  It  was  evident  that  but  few  of  the  students  cared 
much  for  the  divinity  of  the  Reformed  Church  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  whether  in  Germany,  Switzerland,  Holland,  France  or 
Great  Britain.  The  prevailing  style  of  religion,  in  the  Seminary 
and  elsewhere,  lay  in   another  way,  and  the  life  of  the   studen;s. 


Chap,  V]  the  study  of  hkbrew  49 

whetluT  they  wished  it  to  be  so  or  not,  fell  iiiwardl}'  and  experi- 
mentally, more  or  less,  under  captivity  to  its  power."  Thns  the 
conflict  of  opposing  forces  continued  through  all  the  years  at 
Princeton  in  the  mind  of  the  peri)lexed  theological  sophomore  in 
search  of  more  light,  although,  as  he  informs  us,  towards  the  end 
of  his  course  the  conservative  tendency,  which  prevailed  with  him 
at  a  later  time,  began  to  gain,  to  some  extent,  the  upper  hand. 

Among  tlie  different  departments  of  study  in  the  Seminary,  that 
of  Oriental  and  Bil)lical  Literature,  which  was  at  the  time  in  the 
hands  of  Dr.  Charles  Ilodge,  engaged  at  once  a  large  share  of  his 
time  and  attention.  This  came  to  j)ass  from  no  planning  of  his 
own,  rather  against  his  own  will;  and  it  is  a  somewhat  curious  and 
interesting  fact,  as  .it  had  an  important  bearing  upon  his  subse- 
quent life.  He  had  provided  himself,  at  some  cost,  with  the  neces- 
sary text-books  for  the  study  of  the  Hebrew,  and  had  just  got  tar 
enough  in  the  grammar  to  find  it  a  wilderness  of  apparent  ditticul- 
ties,  when  the  unw;elcome  discovery  stared  him  in  the  f\xee,  that  all 
the  stud3'  of  the  students  generally  amounted  only  to  a  smattering 
knowledge  of  some  few  chapters  of  the  Bible,  which  w^as  pretty  sure 
to  be  forgotten  again  through  neglect  in  aftei'-life.  The  thought  of 
so  dry  a  task,  ending  in  such  barren  and  useless  result,  destroyed 
all  zeal  in  the  matter,  and  he  came  to  the  conclusion  to  omit  the 
study  altogether. 

Fortunately,  however,  he  happened  to  have  a  wise  and  thought- 
ful counsellor  in  his  friend,  Matthew  L.  Fullerton,  his  room-mate, 
who  was  then  in  the  senior  class  of  the  Seminary.  He  would  not 
listen  to  his  dropping  the  study  of  the  Hebrew.  How  could  he 
know,  he  said,  what  use  he  might  have  for  it  hereafter  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  Church?  In  vain  he  plead  his  distaste  for  it,  his  want 
of  firm  health,  and  his  ow-n  persuasion,  tliat,  if  he  ever  should  enter 
the  ministry,  it  would  be  in  some  out-of-the-w-ay  country  congrega- 
tion, where  Hebrew  w^onld  be  of  no  sort  of  use  whatever.  His 
friend  only  laughed  at  such  kind  of  talk,  and  put  it  so  much  the 
more  earnestly  to  his  conscience  to  do  what  he  held  to  be  plainly 
his  present  duty  in  the  case,  leaving  consequences  and  results  with 
God.     In  tliis  way  good  advice  in  the  end  prevailed. 

"I  took  up  again  my  half-discarded  grammar,"  he  says,  "and  de- 
termined, cost  what  it  miglit,  to  make  myself  master  of  the  new 
situation.  This  meant  for  me  now,  however,  much  more  than  gain- 
ing a  mere  introduction  to  the  Hebrew  language.  I  must  make  it  my 
own,  so  as  to  have  it  in  sure  use,  and  to  Ite  in  no  danger  of  losing 
it  again.     So  to  work  with  it  I  went   in   uood   full  earnest,  and  to 


50  AT    PRINCETON    FROM    1823-1828  [DiV.  Y 

my  great  comfort,  in  a  short  time,  the  lion  which  was  in  the  wa}' 
disappeared  altogether.  I  soon  pushed  ahead  of  the  class  in  the 
exercise  of  reading,  and  b}'  the  time  they  had  got  through  three  or 
four  chapters,  I  was  at  the  end  of  Genesis.  Then  I  laid  down  my 
plan  to  tax  myself  with  a  new  lesson  privatelj-  every  day.  The 
task  soon  liecame  a  pleasure,  and  in  this  way,  before  the  close  of 
my  course,  I  made  out  to  finish  the  whole  Bible.  I  had  a  right 
then  to  be  considered,  as  I  was  considered  in  fact,  the  best  Hebrew 
scholar  in  the  institution." 

This  unforseen  and  casual  turn,  which  was  given  to  his  theolog- 
ical studies  at  the  beginning,  exercised,  in  fact,  a  determining  influ- 
ence on  his  whole  seminary  course,  and  through  that,  as  we  shall 
see,  on  his  subsequent  history-.  It  led  him  to  devote  himself,  more 
than  he  otherwise  might  have  clone,  to  biblical  and  exegetical  learn- 
ing generally.  It  opened  the  way  for  his  temporary  employment 
as  teacher  at  Princeton,  and  that  position  in  turn  drew  after  it  im- 
mediately his  call  to  the  Western  Theological  Seminary  at  Alle- 
gheny City,  Pa.  God  thus  leadeth  the  blind  by  His  Providence 
in  paths  that  they  have  not  known,  making  darkness  light  before 
them  and  crooked  w^ays  straight. 

But  so  far  as  his  future  life  beyond  the  three  years  at  Princeton 
was  concerned,  all  was  still  painfully  dark.  He  looked  forward  with 
fear  and  anxiet_y  to  the  close  of  his  course,  and  it  seemed  to  be  com- 
ing only  too  fast.  In  the  end  he  felt  himself  precluded  from  enter- 
ing the  ministry,  and  began  to  cast  about  for  some  outlet  for  the 
present  from  his  difficulties  in  some  other  employment.  His  idea 
was  to  take  a  classical  school,  as  a  sphere  in  which  he  could  be  most 
useful,  and  perhaps  the  most  successful.  His  letters  to  his  friends 
at  this  time  were  gloomy  and  full  of  distress.  A  few  extracts  from 
several  received  from  his  excellent  father,  called  forth  by  his  dole- 
ful self-be wailings,  when  he  was  getting  ready  to  leave  Princeton 
and  to  enter  upon  some  kind  of  public  life,  will  throw  light  upon 
his  inward  state  at  this  particular  pei"iod  of  time. 

"I  should  be  sorry,  m}^  dear  son,"  he  wrote  in  1825,  "should  I 
live  to  see  3'ou  mount  the  sacred  desk,  induced  by  any  other  mo- 
tive than  the  loA^e  of  Christ  and  the  salvation  of  souls.  But  I 
should  also  be  sorry,  if  you  should  be  deterred  from  preaching  the 
Gospel  by  aiming  at  such  a  state  of  separation  from  worldly  things 
as  is  seldom  attainaljle,  and  by  no  means  desirable ;  because  were 
such  an  indifference  to  the  things  of  this  world  universally  to  ob- 
tain, it  would  very  soon  come  to  an  end. 

"We  find  our  great  Guide  and  Master  going  about  doing  good, 


CiiAi'.  Y]  A  fathek's  sensible  letters  51 

mixinir  and  eonversinsj  with  all  kinds  of  men,  present  at  a  wedding-, 
directino;  the  tishornien,  supplying  food  and  wine  even  Iiy  a  miracle. 
The  aceonnts  which  we  read  of  the  lives  and  experiences  of  pious 
men  are  to  be  received  with  caution.  De  mortuis  nil  nisi  bonuni. 
Of  those  with  whose  originals  I  became  acquainted,  the  writer,  even 
when  he  comes  nearest  the  truth,  imitates  the  painter,  who  gives 
a  prominent  appearance  to  beauty  and  elegance,  but  throws  defects 
and  deformities  into  the  shade.  I  believe  there  are  as  t)ious  men 
now  living  as  Edwards,  l)oddri<lge,  or  those  others  you  mention. 

"JJut  there  is  still  remaining  iu  the  world  a  little  of  that  pious 
fraud,  as  it  is  usually  termed,  and  the  writers  of  memoirs  of  good 
men,  whether  auto-biograi)hical  or  otherwise,  think  it  l)etter  for  the 
interest  of  our  religion  to  conceal  those  blemishes  which  are  in- 
separable from  our  nature,  and  present  a  faultless  character  for  the 
imitation  of  posterity.  But  they  err  in  this.  Their  design  may  Vie 
good ;  but  the  etfect  is  the  reverse.  They  teach  us  to  expect  what 
never  yet  happened.     So  did  not  Paul. 

"  And  why,  my  son,  stagger  at  what  is  written  of  those  men  when 
the  i)upil  of  Gamaliel  jjresents  himself  to  you  in  far  other  guise. 
He  wrote  not  as  Baxter  and  Watts,  but  he  held  the  pen  of  inspira- 
tion. He  conceals  neither  his  faults  nor  his  fears.  His  Letter  to 
Timothy  is  by  far  more  valuable  than  all  that  has  been  published 
on  that  subject  since.  But  blessed  be  God,  we  may  still  ascend  in 
our  inquiry  after  truth,  and  drink  at  the  fountain  head.  Remem- 
ber that  our  Lord  and  Master,  Himself,  catechized  Peter  as  to  his 
fitness  to  take  upon  himself  the  pastoral  office.  The  examination 
was  plain,  short  and  simple,  easy  to  be  understood,  and  at  once  it 
reached  the  heart.  If  I  stood  thus,  it  would  be  enough  for  me  to 
set  out  on  my  emViassy — if  otherwise  (pialified  as  to  human  learn- 
ing and  talents  for  teaching — regardless  of  all  the  experience  that 
has  since  then  been  left  on  record.  'Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest 
thou  me?'  On  his  answering  in  the  affirmative  He  immediately 
set  him  apart  to  the  sacred  office  by  saying:  'Feed  my  Lambs.'" 

Again  in  182(i  the  judicious  father  writes :  "The  Presbvter}'  of 
Carlisle  will  be  organized  in  Carlisle  next  month;  l)ut  I  do  not  un- 
derstand from  your  last  letter  whether  you  intend  to  place  your- 
self under  its  care  noiv  or  not.  You  are  clearly  enough  understood 
to  say,  that  you  would  not  preacli  the  Gospel  now  if  admitted;  and 
from  your  allusions  to  '  disa])pointing  expectations' and  being  urged 
to  tiu»  ministry,  T  must  conclude  that  you  are  still  doubtful  whether 
you  shall  eiiter  the  sacred  desk  as  a  teacher.  On  one  point  let  us 
understand  one  another.     I  thouglit  that  I  never  pointed  out  a  pro- 


52  AT    PRINCETON    FROM    1823-1828  [DiV.  V 

fession  to  you,  a,s  I  had  determined  never  to  do  so  to  any  of  ray 
sons.  It  is  true  I  rejoiced  when  3'ou  3'ourself  looked  Zionward,  and 
proposed  to  enlist  under  the  banner  and  become  a  soldier  of  Jesus 
Christ.  I  gave  you  cheerfully  to  Him,  with  thanks  and  with 
prayers,  that  even  you  might  be  accepted  and  made  useful  and  wise 
to  win  souls. 

"But  far  be  it  from  me,  even  at  this  stage  of  preparation,  to  urge 
you  into  the  ministry.  Unless  3'ou  feel  that  you  can  take  upon 
you  that  sacred  office,  with  your  whole  heart  and  soul  devoted  to 
your  Master's  cause,  neA'er  to  look  back,  having  put  your  hand  to 
the  plough,  you  had  lietter  stop  where  you  are.  However  I  might 
have  desired  that  you  should  preach  the  Gospel,  believe  me,  my 
son,  I  would  much  rather  you  woiild  never  enter  the  pulpit,  than 
that  you  should  do  so  with  doubt  or  hesitation,  or,  I  would  add, 
incapacity.     You  would  do  no  good. 

"  You  have  been  too  long  immersed  in  schools  and  seminaries 
for  the  good  of  your  bodily  health ;  and  it  may  be  that  the  health 
of  your  mind  would  also  receive  benefit  by  separating  3'ourself 
from  lectures  and  recitations.  It  is  time  for  3'ou  to  see  the  world 
as  it  is,  and  know  your  fellow  creatures  as  they  are.  There  is  dan- 
ger of  your  forming  erroneous  opinions  of  men  and  things,  of  your 
conceiving  and  brooding  over  ideas  of  duty  and  conditct  altogether 
Utopian  and  visionary,  never  to  be  realized."  These  were  words 
that  Avere  well  spoken.  They  embody  the  spirit  of  a  sound  Chris- 
tian fiiith,  and  with  it  good  common  sense,  not  as  3'et  aflected  l\v 
the  prevailing  casuistr}^  of  the  times. 

From  this  correspondence  it  may  be  seen  that  the  son  t\\as  in 
doubts  in  regard  to  the  future  down  to  the  last  year  of  his  theo- 
logical course  at  Princeton  ;  and  so  it  continued  to  the  end.  Some- 
thing, however,  had  to  be  done,  and  he  therefore  corresponded  with 
Dr.  De  Witt,  of  Harrisburg,  with  regard  to  opening  a  classical 
school  in  that  place.  Such  a  situation  might  give  him  useful  em- 
plo^ment  for  awhile,  and  at  the  same  time  leave  him  free  to  act  as 
Providence  might  direct.  The  profession  of  teaching  after  all  was 
for  him,  in  his  existing  state  of  mind,  the  only  allowable  alterna- 
tive to  his  entering  at  once  into  the  ministrj^,  and  it  might  turn 
out  to  be  his  future  mission.  But  "  man  proposes,  and  God  dis- 
poses." Just  at  this  time,  all  at  once,  "  the  high  black  wall  before 
him  gave  way,  and  light  fell  upon  his  pathway,  as  unexpectedly,  as 
if  it  had  opened  l)efore  him  from  heaven  itself."  Arrangements 
had  been  made  that  Dr.  Ilodge  should  make  a  two  gears'  visit  to 
Europe,  with  a  view  of  prosecuting  his  studies  in  its  Universities, 


ClIAP.  Y]  BIBLICAL    ANTIQUITIES  53 

piirticuliirly  in  Germnny,  so  as  to  better  qualify  hiinself  for  his 
duties  in  the  Seminaiy. 

''  And  so  now,"  says  Dr.  Nevin,  "  within  onl}'  a  few  days  of  tlie 
close  of  the  Seminary  3'ear,  and  without  the  least  hint  of  an}-  such 
thing  having  reached  me  before,  he  tendered  me  in  form  the  priv- 
ilege of  filling  his  place,  as  assistant  teacher  in  the  Seminary  dur- 
ing the  time  of  his  absence.  The  salary  was  small,  only  two  hun- 
dred dollars  a  year ;  not  quite  enough  to  live  on,  in  those  days. 
But  I  made  no  account  of  that.  It  seemed  the  Lord's  doings,  and 
was  marvellous  in  ni}-  eyes,  leaving  no  room  for  any  doubt  with 
regard  to  duty." 

He  was  a  man  of  prayer,  and  had  sent  up  man}*  earnest  cries  to 
God  in  secret  that  lie  might  direct  his  wa^',  and  accordingl}-  he  felt 
persuaded  that  his  prayers  were  being  answered.  A  longer  stay  at 
Princeton  would  be  more  useful  to  him  than  a  classical  school  at 
Ilarrisburg.  He  therefore  accepted  this  appointment  at  once.  The 
work  of  his  life  was  to  be  vastl}'  more  important  than  one  in  the 
school-room,  and  he  needed  still  more  time  and  reflection  to  pre- 
pare himself  for  it.  As  yet  he  knew  little  or  nothing  of  what  God 
intended  him  to  accomplish  in  his  da}-.  In  fact,  he  himself  did  not 
yet  know  whether  he  had  anything  at  all  of  special  note  to  accom- 
plish in  the  world. 

Thus  his  three  years  at  Princeton  were  lengthened  into  five ;  and 
his  existence  became  in  this  way  very  much  entwined  with  the 
place  as  a  settled  residence.  His  studies,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
went  on  more  efiectivel}'  than  before.  Whilst  he  instructed  others, 
he  instructed  himself  also.  To  learn  and  to  teach  are,  in  a  certain 
sense,  recii)r()cal  needs  and  mutually  complemental  powers.  They 
go  hand  in  hand  together. 

A  heavy  burden  having  thus  been  removed  in  a  measure  from 
his  mind,  Professor  Nevin  worked  with  energy-  and  zeal.  As  a 
conse(pience,  having  access  to  pleasant  and  cultured  society,  he 
became  more  cheerful  and  happy.  His  good  father  in  Franklin 
County  gave  him  the  use  of  one  of  his  best  horses,  on  which  he 
was  to  take  exercise  ever}-  daj-  in  pleas^ant  weather — except  Sun- 
(l:iy.  The  father  further  stipulated  with  the  eon  that  he  was  to 
pay  for  his  feed,  so  that  the  support  of  the  horfe  might  not  ccir.e 
out  of  his  salary.  He  also  saw  to  it  that  the  animal  was  properly 
caparisoned,  "  in  order  that  he  might  appear  decently  on  classic 
ground." 

During  this  i)eriod,as  the  result  of  the  direction  Avhicli  his  studies 
h:i(l   tMkeu   in  the   Seminary,  he  wrote  his  widely   known   Biblical 


54  AT    PRINCETON    FROM    1823-1828  [DiV.  V 

Ayifiquities^  to  which  he  was  stimulated  by  an  urgent  request,  which 
he  says  he  felt  he  had  no  right  to  refuse.  In  the  hands  of  the 
American  Sunday-school  Union,  it  has  been  circulated  far  and  wide, 
and  continues  in  general  popular  nse,  without  a  rival,  in  Christian 
families  to  the  present  time.  It  was  one  of  the  very  best  and  most 
instructive  works  ever  published  by  the  Union.  It  is  not  deroga- 
tory to  this  small  work  to  say  that  it  contains  little  or  nothing  that 
may  not  be  found  in  Jahn's  large  work  on  the  same  subject,  or  in 
his  Abridgement  in  Latin,  translkted  in  this  country  b}'  Dr.  Upham 
in  1837.  The  arrangement  of  subjects  on  the  whole  is  the  same  by 
both  authors.  But  Jahn's  works  are  learned,  dry  as  they  are 
learned  and  accurate,  consulted  for  the  most  part  only  as  books  of 
reference,  or  studied  as  text  books  in  the  schools.  Kevin's  "An- 
tiquities," on  the  other  hand,  are  full  of  life  and  spirit,  and  can  be 
read  with  edification  by  Christians  generally.  Learning,  or  mere 
barren  facts,  are  here  animated  by  the  spiritual  life  which  properly 
pertains  to  them  as  their  background,  and  gives  to  them  their  true 
meaning.  It  is  this  spiritual  character  or  tendency  that  imparts 
to  the  Antiquities  a  special  charm  to  all  diligent  readers  of  the  Holy 
Scripture. 


VI-AT  HOME  FROM  1828-1830 

^Et  25-27 


CHAPTER  VI 


HIS  pleasant  student  life  at  Princeton  ended  with  the  return  of 
Dr.  Hodge  from  Europe  in  1828.  Before  that,  however,  he 
had  been  fixed  on  as  the  proper  person  for  the  chair  of  Biblical 
Literature  in  the  new  Theological  Seminar}-,  which  the  General 
Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  was  about  to  establish  at 
Allegheny-,  Pa.  In  the  meantime,  having  previoush'  placed  himself 
under  the  care  of  the  Carlisle  Presb^'tery,  he  appeared  before  that 
bod}-  at  a  special  meeting,  held  Oct.  2,  1828,  in  the  city  of  Phila- 
delphia, and  after  a  satisfactory  examination,  was  licensed  to  preach 
the  Gospel,  after  which,  for  more  than  a  whole  year,  he  availed  him- 
self of  opportunities  as  they  presented  themselves  to  exercise  his 
gifts,  in  a  more  or  less  itinerant  way,  for  the  edification  of  the 
churches. 

"As  already  intimated,"  he  says,  "  it  had  come  to  a  sort  of  gen- 
eral understanding  before  I  left  Princeton,  that  I  was  to  pass  into 
the  service  of  the  new-  Western  Theological  Seminar}',  whose  loca- 
tion was  now  fixed  at  Allegheny  City,  at  the  time  a  mere  suburb  of 
Pittsburgh.  Dr.  Herron,  the  President  of  the  Board  of  Directors, 
had  come  on  to  Princeton  for  the  purpose  of  consulting  with  the 
professors  there,  in  regard  to  a  proper  person  for  the  position,  and 
was  at  once  satisfied  that  I  was  the  only  one  to  be  thought  of  in  Mie 
case.  The  discovery  was  to  him,  at  the  same  time,  a  very  welcome 
one  ;  for  although  as  yet  he  knew  nothing  of  me  personally,  he  had 
been  in  his  youth  an  intimate  acquaintance  and  friend  of  my  father, 
both  having  grown  u})  on  the  banks  of  the  same  beautiful  stream — 
my  own  birth  place  also — which  still  bears  its  old  name  of  Herron 
Branch,  derived  from  the  name  of  his  family.  He  assumed  tow-ards 
me, from  the  first,  the  relation  of  a  kinsman,  treated  me  throughout 
as  a  son,  and  continued  my  firm  and  fast  friend  on  to  the  end  of  his 
life  in  the  eighty-seventh  year  of  his  age  " — a  nomen  clarum  et 
venerabile,  in  the  Church. 

"  The  way,  however,  was  not  open  for  the  new  institution  to  go 

55 


56  AT    HOME    FROM    1828-1830  [DiV.  VI 

into  full  operation  at  once ;  and,  besides,  my  own  health  seemed  to 
require  building  up,  if  it  were  possible,  by  pursuing,  for  a  time  at 
least, a  different  kind  of  life.  So  there  was  another  interim  or  break, 
in  what  might  be  called  my  general  academical  career,  which,  how- 
ever, was  not  so  long  this  time  indeed  as  it  was  when  I  came  home 
from  college.  It  lasted  only  fourteen  months.  But  the  period  was 
spent  in  much  the  same  way  as  before,  as  a  general  vacation  from 
all  study." 

At  this  time  it  so  happened  that  he  became  interested — somewhat 
enthusiastically — in  the  study  of  Political  Economy^  through  his 
acquaintance  with  Professor  Yethake,  who  taught  that  subject  with 
ability  in  the  College  at  Carlisle.  It  appeared  to  him  that  this 
science  could  be  used  with  good  effect  as  an  argument  in  fiivor  of 
Christianit3\  He,  therefore,  became  so  carried  away  with  its  pre- 
tensions that  he  prepared  an  article  on  its  meritorious  character, 
for  publication  in  some  religious  paper,  where,  however,  an  older 
and  wiser  head,  a  friend  of  his,  did  not  allow  it  to  make  its  appear- 
ance. Subsequently  he  modified  his  views  on  the  new  science 
which  promised  so  much,  and  his  admiration  for  it  passed  away. 
Afterward  he  had  no  regrets  that  his  maiden  effort  was  ignored  by 
his  friend.  Dr.  Green,  the  editor.  This  branch  of  knowledge,  as  he 
affirmed,  starting  from  its  own  merel}'  natural  and  secular  premises, 
cannot  bring  any  positive  aid  to  Christianity.  Like  all  other  merely 
humanitarian  views  of  the  world's  life,  it  can  only  end  in  showing 
negatively,  through  its  own  helplessness,  the  necessity  of  help  from 
a  higher  sphere  than  that  of  mere  nature — that  is,  a  strictly  super- 
natural redemption  for  society,  no  less  than  for  the  individual  him- 
self This,  indeed,  is  true  of  all  the  sciences,  of  moral  philosophy 
no  less  than  astronomy.  They,  with  philosophy'  in  general,  can  only 
come  to  the  feet  of  Christ,  and  like  the  wise  men  of  old,  laying  their 
treasures  there,  seek  for  the  redemption  of  humanity  and  the  solu- 
tion of  all  life  problems  from  Him  in  His  wonderful  nature  and 
work.  The  arts  and  sciences  in  right  relation  to  Christianit}'  are 
in  the  highest  degree  useful  hand-maidens;  but  then  they  derive 
their  usefulness  more  from  Him,  who  is  the  Truth,  than  they  do 
from  themselves. 

Study,  however,  during  this  interim,  was  not  the  special  occupa- 
tion of  one  who,  had  just  been  solemnly  admitted  to  the  ranks  of 
the  ministry.  He  foiuid  this  rather  whilst  in  quest  of  health  and 
strength,  in  preaching  the  Gospel  whenever  an  opportunity  pre- 
sented itself.  At  Princeton  he  had  been  accustomed  to  do  a  good 
deal  of  exhorting  and  teaching  in  an  informal  way,  but  now  as  he 


Chap.  VI]  beoins  to  preach  57 

was  licensed  to  preacli  in  full  Ibnn,  he  considered  it  a  diit^-  as  well 
as  a  privilege  to  exercise  such  gifts  as  he  possessed  in  a  regular 
way.  He  preached  or  lectured  in  churches  and  in  school-houses 
frequently,  and  as  often  as  twice  a  week,  and  his  discourses  Ijcing 
of  a  i)lain,  popular  character, caused  them  to  be  received  with  favor. 

From  the  start  he  adopted  the  plan  of  preaching  without  man- 
uscript, trusting,  for  the  most  part,  simpl}^  to  a  brief  outline  of 
points  for  his  guidance  in  bringing  into  use  his  previous  prepara- 
tion. This  subjected  him,  at  times,  to  a  slow  and  hesitating  man- 
ner of  speaking ;  but  he  assures  us  that  however  it  might  be  for 
others,  it  was  the  only  method  in  the  end  for  himself.  It  was  also 
a  gratification  to  his  honored  father,  for  this  was  a  point  on  which 
he,  with  man}^  others  at  that  time,  held  no  uncertain  opinions.  In 
one  of  his  letters,  he  thus  expresses  himself: 

"  The  longer  I  live  the  more  convinced  I  have  felt  that  this  prac- 
tice of  reading  sermons,  which  is  becoming  so  lamentably-  preva- 
lent, is  doing  much  harm  to  our  Church.  Who  does  not  see,  that 
the  Methodists,  l)lundering  along,  and  limping  as  they  go,  secure 
the  attention  of  their  audiences  better  than  the  formal  reader  of 
the  most  labored  productions  ?  There  is  a  certain  something — 
sympathy  or  whatever  else  it  may  be  called — communicated  l)y  the 
eye,  and  flowing  indeed  from  every  lineament  in  the  fiice  of  an 
earnest,  animated  speaker,  which  is  worse  than  lost  in  the  reader  of 
the  same  discourse,  ever  and  anon  feeding  his  utterance  from  the 
supi)ly  before  him.  The  misery  of  ministers  confining  themselves 
to  their  written  productions  does  not  end  with  their  pulpit  exer- 
cises. The}'  are  painfully  deficient  when  called  upon,  as  it  often 
happens,  to  speak  a  word  at  a  funeral,  in  a  sick  room,  or  in  many 
other  places,  which  will  occur  to  you.  Now  all  read}'  utterance,  as 
well  as  memory,  is  improved  by  exercising  it ;  and  oh!  how  I  have 
felt  for  the  habitual  reader  on  such  occasions  !  But  enough.  Ma}- 
the  good  God  who  has  hitherto  protected  and  led  you  on,  and  to 
whose  care  I  have  freely  surrendered  3'ou,  furnish  you  most  amply 
with  those  gifts  and  graces,  which  He  knows  will  l)est  forward  His 
might}-  Avork,  and  make  even  3-ou  instrumental  in  winning  many 
souls  to  Christ." 

The  father  here,  doubtless,  had  much  to  do  in  confirming  the 
habit  of  extemi)oraneous  speaking  in  the  son.  It  gave  him  full 
freedom  in  the  pulpit,  and  it  was  of  much  assistance  to  him  in  the 
discussion  of  difficult  questions  at  Sj-nod  and  elsewhere.  In  speak- 
ing his  language  flowed  as  accurately  and  idiomatically  in  pure 
English,  as  if  he  had  had  his  nKUuiscrii)t  before  him.  But  his 
4 


58  AT    HOME    FROM    1828-1830  [DiV.  YI 

facility  in  preacliing  in  tliis  way,  made  it  less  necessary  for  him  to 
■write  out  his  discourses,  and  he  has  left  very  few  behind.  His 
great  sermons,  very  many  of  them,  were  well  worthy  of  preserva- 
tion in  book  form,  although  he  never  thought  of  anything  of  the 
kind.  Now  they  live  only  in  the  memories  of  those  who  heard 
them.  At  the  present  day,  the}"  would  be  quite  as  valuable  to 
thoughtful  readers  as  his  published  articles  or  books.  In  the 
latter  he  addressed  the  head  ;  in  the  former  he  appealed  much  more 
to  the  heart. 

"  I  ma}^  add,"  he  sa3-s,  "  in  regard  to  my  preaching  that,  as  there 
was  no  artificial  oratory  about  it,  so  neither  was  it  in  the  ranting 
Methodistical  vein.  Its  object  was  to  set  forth  the  so-called  evan- 
gelical truths  of  Christianity,  as  I  then  understood  them,  in  a 
thorough,  earnest  and  practical  way.  In  this  view,  it  had  a  ten- 
dency to  take  in  it  more  or  less  of  a  John-the-Baptist-style,  holding 
its  position  on  the  threshold  of  the  Gospel  more  than  in  the  very 
sanctuary  and  bosom  of  the  Gospel  itself.  It  was  felt  to  be 
awakening,  searching  and  solemn ;  and  as  something  on  the  whole 
considerably  ahead  of  the  humdrum,  formal  manner,  which,  in  the 
view  of  many,  had  been  too  much  the  fashion  with  the  older  min- 
isters. As  for  myself,  however,  it  gave  me  ver}'  little  satisfaction  ; 
and  I  never  left  the  pulpit  without  feeling  (and  knowing)  that  my 
work  was  very  much  of  a  botch — so  far  short  did  it  seem  to  come 
of  mv  own  idea  of  right  preaching." 

His  religious  earnestness  during  this  period  of  rest  was  very 
great,  and  not  laid  aside  when  he  left  the  pulpit.  It  manifested 
itself  in  his  daily  walk,  and  made  itself  felt  very  sensibly  in  the 
family  circle.  When  he  returned  from  college,  amidst  all  his  dis- 
couragements, he  daily  conducted  family  worship,  very  much  to 
the  delight  of  his  parents ;  and  to  the  esjiecial  relief  of  his  father, 
who,  on  account  of  a  natural  diffidence,  found  it  a  severe  task  to 
make  a  free  prayer.  But  when  the  son  came  from  Princeton,  and 
was  a  licensed  minister,  there  was  a  priest  in  the  family,  who  felt  it 
to  be  his  duty  strictly  to  observe  the  hour  of  family  vrorship,  and 
to  make  it  as  thorough  and  impressive  as  possible.  The  younger 
members  of  the  family  were  all  required  to  be  present  and  in  their 
places ;  and  if  the  services  were  at  times  protracted  b}-  the  intro- 
duction of  homilies  or  practical  remarks,  the}'  were  expected  to 
pay  strict  and  solemn  attention.  They  listened  as  well  as  they 
could,  while  the  incense  of  prayer  and  praise  ascended  morning 
and  evening  from  this  happy  country  home. 

Among  other  things,  the  cause  of  Temperance,  which  was  then 


Chap.  Y1]  the  temperance  cause  59 

something  new,  engaged  the  special  zeal  of  the  licentiate  just  from 
Princeton.  He  threw  himself  into  it  with  all  the  ardor  of  a  j-oung 
^[elanchthon  and  l)ecame  an  agitator  and  a  rigid  temperance  ad- 
vocate, expecting  all  to  giA'e  "aid  to  the  mighty  reformation, which 
seemed  to  he  looming  in  the  future.''  There  was,  he  sa3's,  pre- 
snmi)tion  in  this  feeling,  of  course,  and,  no  doubt,  a  touch  of  ju- 
venile fanaticism  in  his  preaching  on  the  subject.  It  was  one  on 
which  it  seemed  to  him,  that  to  be  as  intolerant  as  possible  was 
doing  God's  service,  and  the  more  fiery  the  zeal  the  better.  He 
published  an  address  on  Temperance,  full  of  severe  language,  quite 
as  much  so  as  that  of  any  ultra  modern  advocate ;  and  his  temper- 
ance sermons  bore  down,  especially,  Avithout  any  sort  of  mitiga- 
tion, on  what  he  held  to  be  the  heinous  sin  of  manufacturing  and 
selling  ardent  spirits.  If  this  gave  offence  in  certain  quarters,  he 
rather  courted  it  than  otherwise,  as  a  proof  of  his  fidelit}'.  It  was 
a  cheap  sort  of  martyrdom  in  a  good  cause.  Once  he  preached  two 
sermons  on  the  same  day  to  a  large  and  wealthy  congregation,  and 
though  he  had  come  only  to  supply  their  vacant  pulpit  for  a  single 
Sunda}-,  some  of  the  people  were  nnder  the  impression  that  he  was 
a  candidate  for  the  A-acanc^'  and  spoke  of  getting  him  as  their  pas- 
tor ;  l)ut  his  second  sermon  before  them  was  an  uncompromising 
asstiult  on  distillers  and  rumsellers,  to  which  class  of  persons,  un- 
fortunately, several  of  the  "  pillars  of  the  Church  "  belonged.  The 
consequence  was,  of  course,  the  dropping  of  his  name,  and  a  quiet 
understanding  all  around  that,  even  if  he  could  be  had,  he  would 
not  be  there. at  least,  "just  the  right  man  in  the  right  place" — as  a 
prominent  elder,  owner  of  a  distillery,  expressed  himself. 

In  the  spring  of  1820  he  made  an  extensive  excursion  through 
the  country-  on  horsel)ack  for  the  benefit  of  his  health.  He  crossed 
the  mountains  and  went  to  Pittsburgh  to  learn  more  about  the  con- 
cMtion  of  the  new  Theological  Seminar}'.  It  had  been  started  under 
Dr.  Janewa}',  but  he  had  gone  awa}'  in  disgust;  because  the  whole 
enterprise  looked  as  if  it  was  destined  to  end  in  a  failure.  Still 
Dr.  Luther  Halse}'  was  expected  to  be  on  the  ground,  and  it  was 
now  arranged  that  Professor  Nevin  should  hold  himself  in  readi- 
ness to  join  him  at  an  early  day.  His  excursion  carried  him  after- 
wards to  Erie,  the  Falls  of  Niagara,  Saratoga  Springs,  Schenectad}', 
Xew  Haven,  Princeton  and  finally-  home  again  in  Jul}'.  Subse- 
quently he  took  charge  of  the  vacant  congregations  of  Big  Spring 
for  the  period  of  four  months,  as  the  stated  supply.  Many  friends 
there,  and  among  them  especially  their  former  minister,  Dr.  Will- 
iams, were  ver\-  anxious  to  secure  him  as  their  permanent  pastor. 


60  AT    HOME    FROM    1828-1830  [DiV.  TI 

There  was  also  a  serious  movement  to  get  him  back  again  to  Prince- 
ton in  the  position  of  a  standing  writer  of  books  for  the  American 
Sunda^'-school  Union.  But  the  path  of  dut^-  plainlj^  directed  him 
to  Alleghen^y  City. 

Just  at  this  time,  however,  when  his  prospects  of  usefulness  in 
the  Church  rose  up  to  his  view  in  brighter  colors  than  ever  before, 
there  fell  upon  him  the  shadow  of  a  great  sorrow.  His  father,  upon 
whom  he  had  leaned  for  support  in  all  his  difficulties  and  trials, 
still  in  the  vigor  of  his  age  and  strength,  took  sick  and  died.  He 
was  now  a  man  himself  and  had  gone  forth  from  the  parental  roof; 
but  in  a  certain  respect  his  father's  presence,  as  a  power  holding  be- 
tween himself  and  the  world,  was  still  a  need  for  him  almost  as 
much  as  it  was  in  his  earlier  youth.  His  death  brought  with  it  a 
sense  of  overwhellning  desolation,  such  as  he  had  never  felt  before; 
and  caused  him,  as  he  sadly  says,  to  feel  as  if  a  large  part  of  his 
own  life  had  been  buried  in  the  grave.  It  threw  upon  him  new 
responsibilities  and  cares  of  the  most  serious  kind;  for  although 
the  famil}'  was  left  in  sufficiently  comfortaljle  worldly  circumstances, 
it  needed  years  yet  of  guardianship  and  guidance;  and  to  him  ac- 
cordingly, as  the  first  born  of  the  household,  this  trust  fell,  not 
only  in  the  course  of  nature,  but  also  by  his  dying  father's  wish. 
Through  this  ordering  of  Providence  his  life  assumed  a  new  and 
important  phase,  especiall}^  so  when  taken  in  connection  with  his 
going  soon  afterwards  to  the  Western  Theological  Seminary. 
Henceforward  he  was  to  be  in  some  degree,  at  least,  a  man  of  busi- 
ness, no  less  than  a  man  of  letters  and  of  books. 

The  following  beautiful  testimonj^,  which  he  bears  to  his  father's 
sterling  worth,  we  here  give  in  his  own  language.  "  I  have  already," 
he  says,  in  the  sketch  of  his  own  life,  "  allowed  the  image  of  my 
father  to  come  into  view,  speaking,  as  it  were,  for  itself.  Take 
him  altogether,  he  was  a  man  of  rare  and  admiraljle  nature.  Few 
men  surpassed  him  in  fine  social  and  moral  qualities.  Earnestness 
and  genial  humor  were  happily  blended  in  his  spirit.  He  was  loved 
and  respected  wherever  he  was  known,  both  for  his  public  and  his 
private  virtues.  His  soul  was  the  shrine  of  integrit}',  honor,  kind- 
ness and  truth ;  it  refused  all  contact  also  with  whatever  was  vile 
and  mean.  His  religion,  too,  was  of  a  better  kind  than  common  ; 
although  there  were  some  things  about  it,  which  to  my  own  judg- 
ment, as  it  then  stood,  were  not  altogether  satisfactor}'.  It  was 
not  demonstrative,  for  that  was  not  his  nature ;  but  it  was  unques- 
tionably sincere,  and  it  wrought  as  the  power  of  principle,  strongly 
and  profoundly,  in  his  whole  life.     He  was  not  one  of  those  who 


ClIAP.  YI]  A   BEAUTIFUL   TESTIMONY  61 

inako  hasto  to  bo  vicli,  and  in  whom  the  love  of  mone}'  grows  witli 
their  growtli  in  age.  On  tlie  eontrary,  there  was  with  him  a  measure 
of  unworhlliness  and  easy  eontentment  in  his  outward  estate,  in 
this  view,  which  now  that  I  look  upon  it  from  the  general  feverish 
existence  of  our  present  age,  is  altogether  mai-vellous. 

"  In  two  things  he  was  quite  ahead  of  his  present  generation — to- 
tal abstinence  from  ardent  spirits. and  a  mortal  hatred  of  all  slavery, 
With  his  last  years,  there  was  a  marked  turning  of  his  thoughts  more 
and  more  to  the  solemnities  of  the  inA'isible  world.  He  seemed  to 
identify-  himself  somehow  with  the  idea  of  my  entering  the  ministry, 
and  took  an  interest  finally  in  my  preaching  as  though  it  were  to 
be  by  proxy  his  own  work.  He  gave  me  to  understand  that  when 
I  became  fairly  settled  at  Allegheny,  he  would  quite  possibly  sell 
his  farm,  retire  with  his  family  and  end  his  daA's  in  the  same  place. 
That  di'oam,  alas  !  That  dream  destined  not  to  be  fulfilled !  His 
fiimily  did  follow  me  there  in  fact,  but  he  lay  down,  hoping  for  the 
resurrection,  beside  his  own  father  and  mother,  in  the  rural  Inirying- 
ground  at  Middle  Spring. 

"  Only  a  short  time  before  his  last  sickness,  b}^  special  invitation 
I  had  gone  to  preach  what  might  be  called  a  dying  sermon  at  the 
house  of  a  Mr.  McKee,  an  aged,  bed-ridden  elder  of  the  congrega- 
tion, who  soon  after  departed  this  life.  My  father  was  there  also, 
on  foot.  The  text  was  Psalm  146:5  :  '  Happy  is  he  that  hath  the 
God  of  Jacob  for  his  help;  whose  hope  is  in  the  Lord  his  God.' 
On  our  way  home  in  passing  through  a  range  of  woods  in  a  Sep- 
tember twilight,  he  seemed  to  be  unusually  serious  and  thoughtful; 
and  among  other  things,  he  said  there  was  one  text,  which  struck 
him  as  especially  appropriate  and  precious  on  such  occasions,  the 
words  of  the  Saviour  to  his  disciples  on  the  sea  of  Galilee :  '  Be  of 
good  cheer ;  it  is  I ;  be  not  afraid.'  How  often  have  these  mystical 
words  come  back  upon  me  since,  hallowed  by  this  sacred  associa- 
tion !  He  Avas  soon  after  himself  in  the  midst  of  the  dark  sea,  whose 
name  is  death  ;  but  wliile  crossing  it,  he  assured  me  in  the  calmest 
way  that  he  had  no  fear,  that  he  knew  in  whom  he  had  believed,  and 
was  well  persuaded  that  all  would  come  right  in  the  end.  And  so 
he  passed  away  in  the  Lord. 

"  This  held  me  l>ack  for  a  time;  and  it  was  not  until  the  begin- 
ning of  December,  therefore,  that  I  crossed  the  mountains  and 
joined  Dr.  Halsey,  finally,  in  the  work  of  organizing  the  new  "West- 
ern Theological  Seminary.''' 


VII-AT  ALLEGHENY  FROM  1830-1840 

^t.  27-37 


CHAPTER  VII 


PROFESSOR  NEYIX  filled  the  chair  of  Bihlical  Literature 
in  the  Western  Theological  Seminary,  during  a  period  of 
ten  years.  It  fell  to  his  lot  through  life  to  labor  for  the  most  part 
in  sitviations  attended  with  more  than  ordinary  difficulties  and 
hard  work ;  and  the  same  lot  awaited  him  now,  when  he  was  called 
to  employ  his  broad  shoulders  in  sustaining  the  new  enterprise  at 
Allegheny  Cit}^,  connecting  the  East  with  the  West. 

In  1830  it  had  no  buildings,  no  endowment,  no  library,  no  pres- 
tige from  the  past,  and  only  a  doubtful  and  uncertain  promise  from 
the  future.  It  had  indeed  been  established  by  the  General  Assem- 
bly ;  but  there  was  iio  special  interest  felt  for  it  in  the  Church 
generall3^  The  affections  of  the  East  were  wedded  to  Princeton  ; 
and  in  the  West  there  was  a  large  amount  of  dissatisfaction  with 
its  location  at  Pittsburgh,  as  not  being  sufficiently  western  for 
those  particular  wants  which  it  was  intended  to  meet. 

The  Institution  was  thus  thrown  in  fact  on  the  care  mainly  of 
the  churches  in  Western  Pennsylvania,  and  seemed  to  have  slen- 
der prospects  of  receiving  active  sympath}?-  from  an}'  other  quar- 
ter. Dr.  J.  J.  Janewa}',  as  alread};^  mentioned,  after  being  on  the 
ground  for  a  short  time  as  Professor  of  Theology,  had  resigned 
his  situation,  and  his  loss  of  confidence  in  the  success  of  the  Insti- 
tution and  its  locality  had,  of  course,  the  effect  to  discredit  the 
whole  undertaking  in  the  eyes  of  the  public.  So  it  sometimes 
happens  with  those  who,  after  having  once  put  their  hands  to  the 
plough,  look  back.  Dr.  Luther  Halsej-  was  left  to  himself  in  the 
field,  laboring  single-handed  as  his  successor,  and  anxiously  wait- 
ing for  his  new  colleague.  Three  j-ears  later,  the  Rev.  Ezra  Fisk, 
D.  D.,  of  blessed  memory-,  was  appointed  to  the  chair  of  Didactic 
Theology,  but  he  died  in  1833  before  entering  upon  his  office,  and 
subsequently  in  1835,  the  Rev.  David  Elliott,  D.D.,  was  called  to 
the  same  chair.  The  withdrawal  of  Dr.  Halsey  from  the  Institution 
in  183*7  therefore  left  onl}-  two  professors  in  the  faculty'  as  before. 

(62) 


Chap.  VII]  marriage  63 

There  arc  now  some  five  or  six  learned  professors  in  the  Western 
Seniinarv.  dividing  among  them  the  work  which  in  those  earlier 
days  two  alone  were  expected  to  manage  as  best  they  could.  The 
Institution,  moreover,  depending  as  it  was  obliged  to  do  on  transient 
agencies  and  special  collections  among  the  churches,  was  subjected 
all  the  time  to  more  or  less  financial  dillicult}-,  which  in  its  way 
told  seriously  on  the  comfort  of  those  engaged  in  its  service.  Their 
chairs  during  those  years  were  fiir  from  being  sinecures.  To  all 
concerned  in  it,  whether  as  Directors  or  Trustees,  the  work  of 
building  up  the  new  Seminary  was,  in  the  circumstances,  anything 
but  a  holiday  business.  The}'  labored  faithfully  in  the  day  of  small 
things,  and  others  afterwards  entered  into  their  labors.  One  sow- 
eth  and  another  reapeth.  In  the  course  of  time,  it  was  a  satisfac- 
tion to  those  pioneers  to  see  that  their  labor  and  self-sacrifice  were 
not  in  vain  in  the  Lord.  The  Western  Seminary  has  grown  to  be 
a  name  and  a  power  in  the  Presbyterian  Church.  It  has  sent  forth 
its  thousands  to  preach  the  everlasting  Gospel,  and  not  a  few  of 
them,  as  missionaries  in  foreign  lands. 

On  going  to  Pittsburgh  Professor  Xevin  found  his  first  home  in 
the  kind  and  pleasant  family  of  the  Rev  Dr.  Francis  Herron — born 
in  1774,  died  in  1860 — a  warm-hearted  Scotch-Irishman,  for  many 
years  the  patriarchal  jiastor  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in 
the  place,  and,  more  than  any  other  man,  the  founder  and  father 
of  the  Theological  Seminary.  This  was  a  ver}'  special  privi- 
lege and  favor  which  the  new  professor  highly  prized  at  the  time, 
and  Avhich  he  ever  held. in  grateful  remembrance.  The  loss  which 
he  had  sustained  in  the  death  of  his  father,  his  best  friend  and 
counsellor,  we  might  say,  was  in  a  large  degree  cancelled  when 
he  was  admitted  into  the  family  of  his  father's  friend.  He  now- 
had,  as  it  were,  a  spiritual  father  upon  whom  he  could  lean  in  his 
adversities.  The  arrangement  continued  for  nearly  three  j'ears, 
when  the  removal  of  his  mother  and  her  family  to  the  West  opened 
the  yvay  to  his  establishing  with  her  a  new  home  in  Allegheny  City. 
This  was  followed  two  years  afterwards  by  his  marriage,  which 
seemed  to  give  him  a  still  more  permanent  settlement  in  the  place. 
He  found  his  wife  in  the  person  of  Martha,  the  second  daughter  of 
the  Hon.  Robert  Jenkins,  the  well-known  iron-master  of  Windsor 
Place,  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Churchtown,  Lancaster  county, 
Pa.  The  marriage  was  solemnized  by  the  Rev.  John  Wallace,  pas- 
tor of  tlie  Presl)yterian  Church  of  Pequca,  on  Xew  Year's  Day  of 
the  year  1835. 

The  choice  of  a  wife,  a  momentous  step  in  the  life  of  men  gencr- 


64  AT    ALLEGHENY    FROM    1830-1840  [DiV.  YII 

all^y,  was  in  the  case  of  Professor  Nevin  a  wise  and  judicious  one. 
He  needed  just  sucli  a  partner  of  his  life  as  he  found  in  the  com- 
panion of  his  choice.  Subsequent  events  proved  that  she  was 
worthy  of  such  a  man.  In  verj^  many  ditierent  respects  she  was 
helpful  to  him  in  the  great  work  to  which  he  was  consecrated. 
Her  home  was  a  happj^  and  a  cheerful  one,  modelled  after  that  to 
which  she  had  been  accustomed  at  Windsor  Place.  Mrs.  Nevin,  in 
addition  to  great  personal  refinement,  was  versed  in  literature,  and 
could  write  for  the  press  when  occasions  called  for  it ;  but  she 
devoted  herself  mostly  to  her  sphere  in  the  family  circle,  and  drew 
around  her  people  of  cultivation  and  superior  social  standing.  At 
the  time  we  write  these  lines,  a  widow  indeed,  over  four-score  j-ears 
of  age,  at  her  pleasant  residence^  "  Caernarvon  Place,"  near  Lan- 
caster city,  she  retains  much  of  the  vivacity  of  youth,  and  feels  her- 
self at  home  in  the  societ}^  of  professors,  students,  and  cultured 
people  generally-,  with  feelings  deepl}'  in  S3nnpath3'  with  the  poor 
in  their  trials.  Bearing  enshrined  in  her  heart  the  memories  of 
loved  ones  M^ho  lived  in  the  past,  she  looks  forward  to  a  happy 
reunion  with  them  in  the  better  land  in  the  great  hereafter. 

The  children  of  this  branch  of  the  Nevin  family,  useful  and 
honored  in  different  sphere  of  life,  social,  literar}^  and  artistic,  are 
as  follows:  William  Wilberforce,  Esq.;  Robert  Jenkins,  D.D., 
LL.D. ;  Miss  Alice  ;  Miss  Blanche  ;  Martha  Finley,  wife  of  Robert 
Sayre,  Esq.,  of  Bethlehem,  Pa. ;  Cecil  and  John,  who  died  in  their 
youth,  when  they  had  excited  high  hopes  of  future  usefulness,  leav- 
ing behind  sad  but  sweet  memories ;  and  Herbert,  who  died  in  in- 
fanc}^ 

The  father-in-law,  Mr.  Jenkins — born  in  1767 — was  the  great- 
grandson  of  David  Jenkins,  who  had  emigrated  from  Wales  and 
settled  in  Chester  county,  Pa.,  at  an  earl}^  da}'.  His  son  John  re- 
ceived from  William  Penn  the  grant  of  a  large  tract  of  land  lying 
along  the  Conestoga  Creek  in  the  eastern  portion  of  the  adjoining 
county  of  Lancaster.  After  the  Revolution,  David,  the  second, 
the  son  of  John,  purchased  the  Windsor  Iron  Works,  previously 
owned  by  an  English  Company-,  built  a  commodious  house  near 
Churchtown,  managed  the  works  with  much  profit,  and  at  his  death 
left  them  to  his  son  Robert. — Robert  Jenkins  was  one  of  the  fore- 
most men  in  his  county,  prominent  in  his  day  as  a  member  of  the 
State  Legislature  and  of  the  National  Congress,  also  a  stern  and 
inflexible  patriot.  His  wife  Catharine  was  the  daughter  of  Rev. 
John  Carmichael,  pastor  of  the  Brandy  wine  Manor  congregation, 
whose  piety  and  patriotism  were  of  a  high  order.     Mrs.  Jenkins 


Chap.  YII]  ax  evangelist  65 

was  a  lady  of  culture,  energy  and  influence,  a  zealous  and  exem- 
plary member  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  interested  in  all  its 
niovements,  and  Avidely  kiiown  as  a  mother  in  the  Presbyterian 
Israel.  With  great  dignity,  grace  and  hospitality  she  presided 
over  the  stately  mansion  on  the  banks  of  the  Conestoga,  all  of 
which,  under  her  careful  supervision,  was  brought  into  beautiful 
harmony  with  the  wide-spread  and  picturesque  landscape  with 
which  it  was  surrounded. 

During  the  period  of  Professor  Xevin's  connection  with  the 
Western  Seminary,  he  continued  to  exercise  his  gift  of  preaching, 
which  was  a  benefit  to  his  bod}'  and  mind  as  well  as  to  the  souls  of 
others.  In  this  way,  for  the  most  part,  he  performed  nearly  as 
much  service  as  if  he  had  been  the  settled  pastor  over  a  congrega- 
tion. For  a  while  he  remained  a  mere  licentiate  ;  for  as  Jie  had 
been  slow  before  in  applying  for  licensure,  so  noAv  again  he" was  slow 
in  taking  upon  himself  Avhat  seemed  to  be  the  much  more  serious 
responsibility  and  vows  of  ordination.  In  the  course  of  time, 
however,  he  was  set  apart  to  the  ministry  in  full,  by  the  laying 
on  of  the  hands  of  the  Presbytery  of  Ohio,  with  a  somewhat  char- 
acteristic charge  by  the  President  of  Jefferson  College,  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Matthew  Brown.  His  jn-eaching  carried  him  out  largely  among 
country  congregations,  on  tlie  invitations  of  pastors  desiring  his 
assistance,  which,  it  was  known,  he  was  always  ready  to  extend 
without  any  remuneration  or  return  service  of  any  kind.  These 
visits  had  to  be  performed  necessarily  on  horseback,  over  what 
were  ver}-  often  bad  roads,  and  once,  at  least,  on  foot  for  fifteen  or 
twenty  miles,  with  no  small  exposure  at  times  to  the  roughest  kind 
of  weather.  But  thev  gave  him  on  the  whole  a  good  amount  of 
healthful  exercise,  and  had  the  effect  of  hardening  his  physical 
constitution,  something  wliith  he  needed. 

During  a  part  of  the  time  he  preached  with  a  considerable  degree 
of  regularity  to  a  large  and  interesting  Young  Ladies'  Seniinarv  at 
Braddock's  Field,  eight  miles  from  Pittsburgh,  n\)  tlic  Monongahela 
River;  and  finally  he  took  charge  of  the  Ililand  congregation  about 
the  same  distance  out  from  the  city  in  another  direction,  Avhere  he 
preached  every  two  weeks  for  a  j-ear  by  appointment  of  the  Ohio 
Presbytery  as  its  regular  supply.  "  It  has  come  to  be  considered 
proper  enough,"  he  naively  remarks  in  this  connection,  "for  the 
Professors  in  Seminaries  sometimes  to  take  charges,  and  to  receive 
.salaries  from  them  in  addition  to  their  full  pay  received  for  their 
services  as  teachers."  But  in  liis  day,  there  was  no  precedent  of 
this  sort  to  guide  a  doubtful  conscience;  and  acting  from  mere  ab- 


|66  AT    ALLEGHENY    FROM    1830-1810  [DiV.  VII 

straet  i)rineiples  in  the  case,  he  was  not  able  to  see  clearly  his  right 
in  this  instance  to  an}'  such  douljle  payment ;  the  more  especially 
so,  as  he  knew  the  treasury  of  the  Seminary  to  be  all  the  time  in 
the  most  pinching  need.  It  was  a  distinct  understanding,  there- 
fore, between  himself  and  the  Presbytery,  in  this  last  case,  that  his 
services  in  the  congregation  Avere  to  be  free;  but  yet,  at  the  same 
time,  that  the  salary  paid  for  them  should  go  to  the  Theological 
Seminary  in  whose  service  he  then  stood,  and  in  no  part  whatever 
to  himself. 

During  his  ten  years  at  Allegheny,  he  appeared  frequently  before 
the  public  through  the  press.  For  such  occasions  he  always  pre- 
pared himself  thoroughl}',  and  his  productions  were  regarded  as 
worthy  of  an  extensive  circulation.  Of  the  various  discourses  and 
tracts,  which  he  put  forth  from  time  to  time  in  this  way,  bj-  appoint- 
ment or  request,  the  following  seem  to  deserve  mention  in  this 
place  as  characteristic  of  his  mind  during  this  stadium  of  his 
history. 

1.  The  Scourge  of  God :  A  Sermon  preached  in  the  First  Pres- 
byterian Church  of  Pittsburgh,  July  6,  1832,  on  the  occasion  of  a 
cut}'  Fast,  observed  in  reference  to  the  approach  of  the  Asiatic 
Cholera. 

The  pestilence  had  broken  out  in  Canada,  and  seemed  to  be  on 
its  way  to  Pittsburgh.  For  a  time  the  agitation  was  intense.  All 
faces  indicated  dark  apprehensions,  as  if  the  sword  of  the  destroy- 
ing angel  were  felt  to  be  hanging  over  the  city.  In  this  state  of 
things,  there  was  a  general  call  for  a  da}-  of  fasting,  humiliation 
and  prayer,  and  well  was  the  day  observed.  The  sermon  here 
noticed  was  preached  before  a  very  large  audience,  that  listened 
to  it  as  with  the  solemnity  of  death,  and  on  the  same  day  a  number 
of  leading  citizens  of  the  place  joined  in  soliciting  a  copy  of  it  for 
publication.  "  One  strong  point,"  the  author  says,  "  was  an  un- 
merciful denunciation  of  all  manufacturers  and  venders  of  ardent 
spirits." 

2.  The  Claims  of  the  Christian  Sabbath:  A  Report,  read  and 
adopted  at  a  meeting  of  the  Presbyteiy  of  Ohio,  April  21,  1836.  It 
formed  a  considerable  tract,  and  was  intended  "  to  draw  up  a  judg- 
ment and  a  plan  of  action  against  the  desecration  of  the  Hoh*  Sab- 
bath, on  the  part  of  members  of  the  Church,  either  owning  or  using 
in  any  way  Sabbath-violating  conveyances  on  land  or  water."  After 
the  report  was  adopted,  it  was  further  ordered  that  10,000  copies 
should  be  published  in  pamphlet  form,  by  means  of  a  subscription, 
opened  in  the  Presbyter}-  for  this  purpose. 


Chap.  VII]  sermons  and  addresses  67 

3.  21ir  EiujJifih  Bible:  A  Brief  View  of  the  History  ami  ]\rerits 
of  the  Enirlisli  Version  in  connnon  use.  Pnblished  in  jjiunphlet  foi  in 
in  183r.. 

4.  l\-r.«iii(il  HoJiiii'ss:  A  Lecture  delivered  June,  ]8oT,  at  the 
openinsi  of  the  Summer  Term  in  the  AVestern  Theological  Seminaiv. 
Published  by  request  of  the  Students. 

5.  The  Seal  of  the  Spirit :  A  Sermon  preached  in  the  Presby- 
terian Church  at  Uniontown,  Pa.,  January  21,  1838.  Publislied  by 
the  Session  of  the  Church. 

C.  Party  Sjnrit :  An  Address  delivered  before  the  Literary 
Societies  of  Washington  College,  Washington,  Pa.,  Sept.  24,  1839. 

Y.  A  Pastoral  Letter:  On  the  Subject  of  Ministers'  Salaries,  ad- 
dressed b^'  the  Presb3-tery  of  Ohio  to  the  churches  under  its  care, 
Jan.  18,  1840.  Ministers  in  the  Presbytery  were  inadequately 
supported,  because  the  reigning  rates  of  their  salaries  had  not  kept 
pace  with  the  advanced  rates  of  living.  By  failing  to  receive  the 
necessary  support,  some  had  been  compelled  to  turn  aside  from 
their  proper  vocation  and  work.  The  Pastoral  Letter  set  foi'th  a 
])ainful  picture  of  this  sad  state  of  things,  based  on  a  full  induction 
of  facts,  and  called  upon  the  churches  in  solemn  terms  to  redress 
the  evil. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"TN  addition  to  such  occasional  productions,  he  wrote  also  quite 
-L  extensively  from  time  to  time, mainly  on  practical  subjects,  for 
the  Christian  Herald ;  but  much  more  largely,  during  the  years 
1833  and  1834  for  the  Friend,  a  literary  and  moral  weekly  journal, 
which  he  undertook  to  edit  in  behalf  of  the  "  Young  Men's  Society 
of  Pittsburgh  and  Vicinity, *"  regarded  as  an  important  institution 
at  the  time,  in  whose  organization  he  was  called  to  take  a  somewhat 
prominent  part. 

The  Friend  had  an  ideal  basis  of  its  own,  which  was  less  sub- 
stantial than  he  found  it  to  be  in  his  riper  years.  In  conformit}^ 
Avith  the  reigning  character  of  the  Society  of  which  it  was  to  be  the 
organ,  it  was  intended  to  be  a  Christian  agency,  openly  and  boldly 
set  for  the  defence  of  all  Christian  virtue,  but  on  the  outside  of  all 
religious  denominationalism  strictl}^  so  called.  The  field  of  action 
professedl}^  was  "that  broad  territory  of  thought — broad  enough 
surely  for  the  putting  forth  of  all  its  enterprise — on  which  men  of 
all  ])arties  and  sects,  among  whom  the  fundamental  principles  of  pa- 
triotism and  piety  are  not  disaA'owed,  may  meet  as  upon  common 
ground  and  join  their  efforts  to  do  good  in  the  exercise  of  the  same 
mind. 

"  The  paper  was  to  be  decidedl}'  religious  in  its  character ;  and  this 
on  the  high  platform  of  the  Gospel,  the  only  true  basis  of  moral  it  v ; 
but  all  in  such  a  yvny  as  to  avoid  the  incidental  belligerent  discords 
of  the  different  evangelical  denominations,  and  to  move  only  in  the 
supposed  far  wider  and  deeper  sphere — something  hypothetical — in 
which  the^^  are  lovingly  concordant — that  mighty  domain  of  doc- 
trine and  life,  which  has  never  yet  been  made  the  scene  of  Christian 
controversy'  at  all,  and  over  which  our  spirits  may  freelj^  expatiate, 
in  fellowship  with  all  who  belong  to  Christ,  in  the  midst  of  the 
most  magnificent  and  endearing  forms  of  truth."  It  sounded 
strangely  to  Dr.  Nevin  in  after  3' ears,  as  he  says,  to  hear  himself  so 
naively  proclaiming  such  an  outside  Christianity  and  such  pseudo- 
catholicity  in  the  first  number  of  his  paper. — We  may  add  that  his 
philosophical  talent,  naturalh'  of  the  highest  order,  of  which  he 
seemed  to  be  unconscious  for  a  long  time  at  least — suppressed  by 
his  morbid  religious  life  at  Schenectady  and  Princeton — began  ap- 
])arentl3'  to  bud  in  an  occasional  article  in  the  Friend,  and  mani- 

(68) 


ClIAl'.   VIII]  THE    FRIEND  69 

tested  itself  still  more  decidedly  in  his  Address  on  Party  Spirit,  as 
we  shall  see  hereafter. 

But  with  such  broad  idealism  in  the  way  of  faith  and  charit}-, 
the  F'-ii'nd  took  upon  itself  at  the  same  time  to  be  very  realistic — 
very  rugged  also — and  very  positive  in  the  way  of  rebuking  the 
sins  of  the  day,  and  aimed  to  set  the  standard  of  public  morals 
from  the  high  Gospel  stand-point ;  but  the  editor  could  easily  see, 
as  he  grew  in  grace  and  knowledge,  that  the  office  was  not  alwaj'S 
exercised  in  the  wisest  and  best  Ava^^s.  Its  reformatory-  zeal,  he 
says  himself,  was  too  self-conscious  and  ambitious,  as  is  apt  to  be 
the  case  with  zeal  bent  on  magnifying  its  own  mission  in  this  form. 
Infidelity,  fashionable  amusements,  ladies'  fairs,  theatrical  enter- 
tainments, and  other  such  objects,  came  under  its  animadversion 
in  the  most  pronounced  way,  cansing  its  boldness  to  be  praised  in 
one  direction,  while  it  gave  offence,  of  course,  in  another.  For 
attacking  an  attempt  to  get  up  a  theatre  in  Pittsburgh,  he  was 
threatened  with  the  honor  of  a  cow-hiding,  and  at  one  time  there 
was  some  danger  even  of  a  mob  against  the  paper  on  account  of 
its  supposed  incendiarism  on  the  subject  of  slaA'ery. 

Of  all  causes,  however,  that  of  Temperance  received  the  largest 
share  of  attention  ;  and  as  the  circulation  of  the  Friend  seemed 
(luite  too  limited  for  its  needs,  especially  out  through  the  country, 
the  plan  was  adopted  finally  of  issuing,  every  two  weeks,  a  small 
two-penny  sheet,  tilled  exclusively  with  this  part  of  its  material. 
This  sheet  was  known  as  the  Temperance  Register,  and  during  the 
brief  period  of  its  existence  did  its  own  work  in  its  own  noiseless 
and  cheap  way. 

As  might  have  been  expected,  this  whole  scheme  of  a  high-toned 
Christian  monthly,  based  on  the  power  of  Christian  ideas,  supposed 
to  be  available  for  the  world  at  large  be3'ond  the  narrow  pre- 
cincts of  the  Church,  in  due  course  of  time  came  to  general  grief 
and  collapse.  Owing  to  dissatisfaction  in  the  Society,  and  in  the 
communit}'  on  the  outside,  the  editor  felt  himself  compelled  at 
length  to  withdraw  from  the  i)aper,  ant]  his  valedictorv  of  ^larch 
\'l,  l.s;^5,  was  a  confession  of  defeat.  Among  other  things, it  winds 
up  liy  saying:  "'We  have  tried  our  method,  and  are  satisfied  that 
it  cannot  carry  the  i)ubIication  forward  in  this  community  ;  it  has 
been  upheld  thus  far  onh'  with  great  sacrifices,  and  there  is  no 
prospect  that  it  will  lie  sustained  without  them  hereafter.  But,  if 
another  metliod  can  be  adopted  more  likely  to  insure  success,  let  it 
be  tried — we  make  no  sacrifice  in  giving  \\\)  the  Friend.  It  has 
been   atleudt'd  with    uiiich   trouble  and  vexation  of  spirit  from  the 


70  AT    ALLEGHENY    FROM    1830-1840  [DiV.  VII 

beginning ;  for  more  tlian  tliose  who  liave  liad  no  similar  experi- 
ence can  at  all  imagine.  We  have  been  anxiously  looking  forward 
to  the  close  of  our  term  of  service  as  a  day  of  deliverance  and  joy, 
and  feel  no  regret  at  all  in  being  discharged  before  the  time.  We 
lose  no  money  by  losing  our  place.  We  have  never  received  a  cent 
for  our  labor  thus  far,  and  we  have  not  calculated  on  being  paid 
anything  at  the  end  even  of  two  years'  full  service.  Here,  then, 
our  relations  to  the  subscribers  of  the  Friend  must  be  brought  to 
an  end.  We  trust  that,  notwithstanding  the  occasion  of  offence 
we  may  have  given  to  some,  we  may  still  have  the  respect  and  good 
will  of  all ;  and  with  sentiments  of  corresponding  regard,  and  the 
wishes  for  their  prosperity  on  both  sides  of  the  grave,  we  bid  them 
all  an  aff'ectionate  farewell." 

The  "  occasion  of  offence  "  referred  to  was  found  in  certain  brief 
items  or  utterances  in  regard  to  the  sin  of  slavery,  which,  if  the 
editor  had  been  less  honest  and  more  worldly-wise,  he  would  have 
been  careful  to  keep  out  of  his  paper  at  the  time.  They  roused  the 
intolerance  of  the  old  pro-slavery  spirit,  which  then  reigned  in 
Pittsburgh, and  in  many  other  places  that  were  just  as  enlightened. 
It  might  have  been  described  as  "  a  tempest  in  a  teapot,"  if  it  had 
not  brought  down  upon  the  head  of  the  poor  unsophisticated  editor 
such  a  torrent  of  abuse,  suspicion  and  trouble  of  mind.  This 
episode  in  his  life  is  interesting  as  an  illustration  of  the  spirit  of 
the  times,  and,  just  as  well,  of  the  spirit  of  the  person  who  was  de- 
termined to  do  right,  even  if  the  heavens  should  fall. 

Uncompromising  opposition  to  slavery  was  a  tradition  in  the 
Nevin  family,  which  grew  in  strength  and  concentrated  itself  in 
John  Williamson,  its  most  distinguished  representative.  Justice 
to  the  memory  of  the  man,  therefore,  requires  that  he  should  be 
allowed  to  speak  for  himself,  and  to  give  his  own  account  of  this 
tempest  or  fiasco  long  after  he  got  beyond  its  reach. 

"  On  the  subject  of  slavery,"  he  says  in  1870,  "it  seems  to  me, 
that  Avithout  any  material  change  of  mind  in  myself,  the  weather- 
cock of  public  opinion  has  made  me  out  wrong  in  diff'erent  periods 
of  ni}"  life,  under  preciseh'  opposite  views.  It  has  done  so  hy  a 
sudden  and  complete  polar  change  in  itself,  the  full  like  of  which  it 
would  be  hard  to  find,  within  so  short  a  time,  in  the  history  of  the 
world  before.  I  have  been  fanatically  taken  to  task  in  later  life  for 
not  cursing  slavery  hard  enough  at  the  altar  and  from  the  pulpit. 
In  my  Pittsburgh  da3"s,as  already  intimated, it  was  the  other  way; 
m}^  wrong  stood,  it  was  fanatically  said,  in  allowing  m^'self  to  talk 
or  write  of  slavery  at  all  as  a  bad  thing. 


Chap.  YIII]  a  mild  form  of  abolitionism  71 

"  It  Avas  not  very  much  at  best  or  worst  that  I  had  to  say  alxjut 
it ;  I  belonged  to  no  anti-slavery  society ;  I  was  no  missionary  in 
the  cause;  I  made  no  speeches  and  disseminated  no  tracts  in  its 
favor;  indeed  I  openly  condemned  Mr.  Garrison  and  others  of  the 
same  stripe,  as  being  irreligious  in  their  spirit  no  less  than  un- 
patriotic. But  I  could  not  blind  my  exes  to  the  plain  truth,  into 
the  sense  of  which  I  had  been  educated  from  my  childhood,  that 
slavery,  nevertheless,  as  it  existed  in  this  country,  was  a  vast  moral 
evil ;  and  I  could  not  see  why  in  this  view  it  should  not  come,  like 
any  other  great  wrong,  under  religious  criticism  and  censure. 

"  And  so  before  I  knew  hardly  hoAv  it  came  to  pass,  especially 
after  the  publication  of  the  Friend  had  come  into  my  hands,  I 
found  that  I  had  begun  to  be  looked  upon  and  spoken  of,  in  certain 
quarters,  as  actually  a  disturber  of  the  public  peace.  One  promi- 
nent physician  in  the  place,  I  remember,  allowed  himself  publicl^r 
in  the  street  to  characterize  me,  up  and  down,  as  in  his  opinion 
'the  most  dangerous  man  in  all  Pittsburgh.'  It  even  went  so  far, 
as  I  have  said  before,  to  some  talk  of  danger  to  the  ofRce  in  which 
the  Friend  was  printed.  And  talk  in  those  inflammable  da^'s,  it 
must  be  remembered,  was  itself  xery  much  like  sparks  to  tinder  or 
powder.  It  had  power  to  produce  mobs,  and  work  tragedies  in  the 
most  terrible  way. 

"  But  what  a  farce  it  appears  now  that  so  much  should  ever  have 
been  made  of  such  an  occasion  for  offense  as  there  was  here,  after 
all,  in  the  columns  of  the  Friend.  The  paper  never  took  any  i)arty 
stand  in  regard  to  slavery  one  way  or  another;  it  went  in  favor  of 
Colonization;  but  it  was  not  willing  that  this  should  be  allowed  to 
silence  the  question  of  Home  Emancipation,  as  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Abolitionists  it  seemed  to  be  doing.  There  should  be  room,  it  was 
maintained,  for  calm  and  free  discussion  all  around.  Only  so  could 
we  vindicate  our  title  to  Christian  honesty  in  so  great  a  case.  But 
honesty  of  such  sort  was  just  what  the  community  generally  at  this 
time  did  not  want,  and  would  not  brook."  The  position  here  as- 
sumed was  nothing  more  than  what  was  in  harmony  with  the  Re- 
formed Faith,  of  which  he  speaks  as  still  lingering  in  his  youth  at 
Middle  Spring;  and,  strictjy  speaking,  not  a  lesson  which  he  had 
learned  at  Schenectady.  It  was  also  that  which  would  have  met 
Avith  a  response  among  the  Germans  of  Penns3-lvania  of  the  Luther- 
an and  Reformed  persuasion,  if  they  had  had  a  chance  to  express 
themselves.  Dr.  Xevin  was  in  a  position  to  speak  out.  and  in  doing 
so  he  had  the  courage  simply  to  define  the  position  of  many  other 
good,  honest  people,  who  could  not  sympathize  with  the  tide  of 


72  AT    ALLEGHENY    FROM    1830-1840  [DiV.   YII 

fonaticdsin  that  was  coming  in  at  the  time  like  a  flood  from  the 
East,  and  from  their  neighbors,  the  Friends,  around  Philadelphia. 

Speaking  in  the  Friend  of  April  17,  1834,  of  a  notable  move- 
ment on  the  subject  of  slavery,  in  Lane  Seminary,  Oxford,  Ohio, 
he  had  no  hesitation  in  saying :  "  A  grand  discussion  was  had  on 
the  subject  by  the  students  of  the  Theological  Seminary,  which 
was  continued  for  a  number  of  evenings  in  succession  with  great 
interest,  and  resulted  in  an  almost  universal  determination  in  fa- 
vor of  anti-slavery  principles.  We  have  received  a  cop3'  of  the 
Preamble  and  Constitution  of  a  society  organized  in  this  Insti- 
tution for  the  purpose  of  promoting  the  emancipation  of  the 
slaves  of  this  country.  The  whole  is  wisely  and  temperately  drawn 
up,  and  well  worthy  of  being  temperately  considered.  We  trust 
that  the  time  is  not  fixr  distant  when  what  has  been  rashly  spoken 
by  ><ome  abolitionists  and  colonizationists  will  be  forgotten,  and 
the  friends  of  humanity  will  find  themselves  able  to  stand  on  com- 
mon ground  in  regard  to  the  great  evil  of  slavery,  without  de- 
nouncing the  one  interest  or  the  other.  That  abolitionism  has  ex- 
hibited in  some  cases  a  widely  extravagant  form,  we  have  no  doubt; 
but  we  have  just  as  little  doubt  that  great  and  powerful  principles 
of  truth  have  been  all  along  laboring  underneath  its  action,  and 
struggling  to  come  into  clear  and  consistent  development  by  its 
means.  On  that  account  we  have  never  felt  at  liberty  to  stigma- 
tize its  most  active  friends  as  being  mere  agitators,  or  to  say  of  the 
movement,  that  it  was  in  its  OAvn  nature  premature  and  desperate, 
or  incendiary  in  its  character.  Let  the  subject  be  discussed.  The 
discussion  will  cause  some  great  truths  to  be  more  clearly  appre- 
hended, at  any  rate,  than  the}^  have  been  heretofore. 

"  Take  another  example  of  my  incendiarism  from  the  Friend, 
Sept.  4,  1834.  '  Among  the  various  able  articles  that  have  appeared 
latel}'  on  the  subject  of  slavery,  Judge  Birney's  letter  to  the  secre- 
tary of  the  Kentucky'  Colonization  Society  is  deserving  of  special 
attention.  The  eminent  station,  distinguished  talents,  the  truly 
Christian  character  of  the  writer  entitle  it  to  the  calm  and  dispas- 
sionate consideration  of  all  who  claim  to  be  the  friends  of  truth 
and  free  inquiry.  It  will  be  hard  to  fasten  on  him  at  least  the  re- 
proach of  fanaticism  and  madness.  He  is  found  in  the  midst  of 
slaverj^  itself  the  uncompromising  advocate  of  immediate  emanci- 
pation, and  declares,  in  strong  though  respectful  terms,  his  persua- 
sion, based  on  a  wide  extent  of  observation,  that  colonization,  as 
now  urged,  is  unfriendly  to  the  interest.  We  beg  leave  to  recom- 
mend that  this  letter  be  read  b}-  such  as  can  get  hold  of  it,  in  con- 


Chap.  A' 1 1 1]  a  pahthian  arrow  13 

ueetion  witli  utlieT  (locmiu'iits  that  relate  to  the  shiveiy  question. 
We  think  that  this  is  a  subject  about  which  people  ought  to  read 
and  have  an  intelligent  opinion.  We  envy  not  the  state  of  that 
man's  mind,  who  counts  it  as  credit  to  himself  to  be  indifferent  or 
apathetic  in  a  case  which  involves  the  happiness,  of  two  millions  of 
his  fellow  beings ;  and  the  moral  character,  if  not  the  political  des- 
tinj',  of  the  entire  nation  to  which  he  belongs.  The  time  is  coming 
when  such  as  now  evince  this  temper  will  be  ashamed  to  have  it 
remembered  ;  esjieciall}-  when  it  may  have  been  connected,  as  it 
sometimes  is,  with  an  attempt  to  discourage  free  discussion  and 
earnest  inquiry  among  others.' 

"  Let  these  quotations  suffice  as  specimens  simply  of  my  way  of 
preaching  abolitionism  at  this  time.  There  was  certainly  nothing 
ver}-  dreadful  about  it ;  it  sounds  now  in  all  conscience  quite  tame 
enough.  IJut  it  fell  ver}'  dilferentlj'  on  the  ears  of  the  prudent 
ones  in  the  years  of  grace  1834  and  1835.  Judge  Birney  was  held  to 
be  a  traitor  to  good  manners  and  the  peace  of  his  country.  The 
Lane  Seminar}'  students  Avere  denounced  as  in  a  high  degree  dis- 
orderly ;  and  in  due  course  of  things,  as  I  have  stated,  I  was  forced 
to  resign  m}'  editorial  position  as  a  martyr  to  conscience  and  the 
freedom  of  speech — but  not  without  this  Parthian  arrow  in  m^- 
retreating  farewell. 

"  We  think  it  well  enough  here  to  leave  our  testimony,  solemn 
and  explicit,  in  favor  of  the  truth,  in  this  great  interest.  Slavery 
is  a  sin,  as  it  exists  in  this  country,  and  as  such  it  ought  to  be 
abolished.  There  is  no  excuse  for  its  being  continued  a  single 
day.  The  whole  nation  is  involved  in  the  guilt  of  it,  so  long 
as  public  sentiment  acquiesces  in  it  as  a  necessar}-  evil.  That 
which  is  aljsolutely  necessar}'  for  its  removal,  is  the  formation  of 
such  a  jjublic  sentiment  throughout  the  country,  as  will  make  slave- 
holders ashamed  of  their  wickedness,  and  finally  reform  the  laws 
under  which  the  evil  now  holds  its  power  in  the  different  States. 
Such  a  sentiment  lias  not  heretofore  existed,  and  it  is  plain  that 
much  discussion  and  thought  are  needed  to  bring  it  into  being. 
There  is,  therefore,  just  the  same  reason  for  the  system  of  action 
pursued  by  the  Abolition  Society  with  reference  to  this  subject,  that 
there  is  for  the  Temperance  Society,  with  regard  to  the  curse  of 
ardent  spirits.  The  institution  and  the  effort  are  among  the  noblest 
forms  of  benevolent  action  witnessed  in  the  present  age.  We  glory 
then  in  being  an  abolitionist,  and  count  it  all  honor  to  bear  reproach 
for  such  a  cause.     It  is  the  cause  of  God,  and  it  will  prevail. 

"It  fiax  prevailed  within  the  last  year,  more  we  believe  than  ever 
5 


"74  AT    ALLEGHENY    FROM    1830-1840  [DiV.  YII 

a  moral  cause  did  liefore  in  this  countiy  witliin  the  same  time.  An 
immense  change  has  been  effected  b}^  means  of  it  through  almost 
eA'er_y  portion  of  the  Northern  States,  and  we  are  evidently  on  the 
eve  of  greater  changes  still.  The  tongue  of  slander  is  fast  coming 
to  be  ashamed  of  its  own  calumnies ;  and  alread3'  that  which  was 
stigmatized  as  'fanaticism  and  incendiarism'  a  year  since,  is  begin- 
ning to'  stand  forth  with  honor  in  the  world  as  the  righteousness  of 
the  Bible  and  the  everlasting  truth  of  God.  We  are  no  longer  at  a 
loss  either  on  the  subject  of  Colonization.  We  believe  full}'  that 
as  the  case  now  stands,  the  one  interest  is  contrary  to  the  other; 
just  as  moderate  drinking  societies  are  at  war  with  the  temperance 
reformation;  and  with  Judge  Birney  we  have  no  doubt,  that  the 
cause  of  emancipation,  in  order  to  succeed,  must  be  divorced  al- 
together from  the  whole  plan  of  colonizing  the  blacks,  as  heretofore 
and  at  present  pursued  for  that  purpose.  The  system  is  injurious, 
as  it  tends  to  divert  attention  from  the  true  question  in  the  case, 
and  lends  its  influence  also  to  sustain  a  most  foolish  and  wicked 
prejudice  against  the  colored  population. 

"  Such  is  our  creed  on  this  deeply  interesting  subject,  on  which 
all  must  think  before  long;  a  subject  which,  if  not  disposed  of 
quickly  by  the  power  of  conscience  and  moral  principle,  will  yet 
convulse  the  nation.  North  and  South,  to  its  very  centre." — The 
Friend,  March  12,  183.5. 

No  one  of  our  readers  can  fiiil  to  see  the  appropriateness  of  these 
solemn  words  of  wai"ning,  bordering  on  the  prophetic,  which  the 
editor  addressed  to  his  brethren,  when  as  3'et  comparatively  few  of 
that  generation  imagined  that  the}'  were  standing  over  a  volcano, 
which  in  a  quarter  of  a  century  was  in  fact  to  "  convulse  the  nation. 
North  and  South."  To  us  at  the  present  da}^  it  appears  greatly  to 
the  credit  of  the  governing  powers  of  the  Western  Theological 
Seminar}',  that  they  did  not  allow  themselves  to  be  undi;ly  excited 
in  regard  to  the  member  of  the  Faculty  that  seemed  to  be  intro- 
ducing new  doctrines ;  and  that  they  laid  no  restraint  upon  him 
and  uttered  no  caveat  with  regard  to  the  slaver}-  agitation.  The 
Scotch-Irish  Presbyterianism  showed  itself  here  to  be  of  a  much 
more  tolerant  and  self-possessed  spirit  than  the  Presbyterianism, 
"  which  sought  to  turn  Lane  Seminary  at  Cincinnati  into  a  medieval 
inquisition." 

But  such  intolerance  was  to  a  great  extent  the  order  of  the  day. 
The  Presbyterian  like  most  other  churches  in  this  country  was 
'.rather  conservative  on  the  subject  of  slavery,  and  somewhat  disin- 
clined to  encourage  its  free  ventilation.     All  felt  that  it  was  an  ex- 


Chap.  YIII]  -ustified  by  events  75 

ceiMling;!}'  diflicult  and  (Icliealc  (|iu'stioii  to  discuss  in  existing  cir- 
cumstances. It  had  II  political  as  well  as  a  religious  and  moral 
side.  "  The  sulijcct  came  to  be  tabooed  from  the  puli)it  and  the 
press.  The  leading  Presbyterian  organs  were  of  one  mind  and 
one  voice — hostile  in  full  to  the  technical  abolitionism,  or  the  so- 
called  Anti-slavery  movement  of  the  day.  Ecclesiastical  judica- 
tories, as  well  as  the  great  national  societies,  made  it  a  point  from 
year  to  3'ear  to  ostracise  and  put  down  in  all  manners  and  ways 
ever^'  attempt  to  get  the  matter  of  slavery-  Iwfore  them.  It  was  a 
spectre  that  haunted  them  yearl3',and  when  driven  out  of  one  door 
it  was  sure  to  come  in  through  another.  The  merest  whisper  of 
abolitionism  was  enough  to  throw  a  whole  General  Assembly  into 
agitation." 

A  curious  illustration  of  this  extreme  nervousness  was  evoked 
among  its  Commissioners  when  it  met  in  Pittsburgh,  just  opposite 
Allegheny,  in  1835,  of  which  Professor  Xevin  himself  was  the  inno- 
cent occasion.  During  its  session  a  meeting  was  appointed  in  one 
of  the  large  Methodist  Churches  to  hear  Dr.  Hirney  on  the  cpiestion 
of  slavery,  and  he  was  invited  to  appear  also  as  a  speaker.  In  his 
flame  of  mind  at  the  time,  he  of  course  did  not  feel  at  liberty  to 
decline  the  invitation.  But  before  the  meeting  was  held  he  was 
waited  upon  by  a  committee  of  friends,  representing,  as  the}^  said, 
the  general  mind  of  the  Assembl}-,  who  begged  him  for  its  sake  not 
to  appear  as  a  speaker  on  the  occasion.  Although  he  Avas  not  a 
nieml>er  of  the  Assembly,  it  was  alleged  that  his  public  appearance 
at  such  a  meeting,  just  at  that  time,  might  in  some  wa^-  seem  to  be 
injurious  to  its  honor.  In  the  circumstances  he  meekly  j-ielded  to 
their  re([uest,  in  compliance  with  a  good  old  Presb3-terian  rule,  that 
ministers  ought  to  submit  themselves  to  their  brethren.  It  is  only 
one  instance,  in  which  General  Assemblies  and  many  other  assem- 
blies showed  how  sensitively  alive  they  were  in  those  days,  even 
at  insignilicant  point-s,  to  the  serenity'  of  their  standing  conserva- 
tism on  this  great  question  of  slavery. 

Of  course  such  a  nervous  state  of  the  public  mind  is  ilow  hap- 
l)ily  changed,  and  the  old  conservatism  during  the  late  war  lost  its 
(»ccupati(Mi  and  went  to  the  wall.  Provitlence  brought  it  about. 
'I'lu'  smouldering  fires,  which  had  been  in  a  measure  concealed  for 
more  than  half  of  a  century,  burst  through  all  artificial  restraints, 
and  the  explosions  became  so  much  the  more  violent  and  destruct- 
ive, liecause  they  had  not  l)een  al)le  to  find  any  proper  vent.  Had 
the  North  and  the  South  met  together,  and  with  the  help  of  a  few 
of  llieir  wisest    matrons    made   a  child's  bargain,  they  would    have 


76  AT    ALLEGHENY    FROM    1830-1840  [DiV.  YII 

saved  themselves  a  vast  amount  of  trouble,  treasure,  and  many 
valuable  lives.  "When,  however,  the  war  actually  broke  out,  men  of 
all  classes  had  to  think.  The  two  Presbyterian  Assemblies,  Old 
and  iS^ew  School,  and  other  religious  bodies,  always  more  or  less 
opposed  to  slaverj'^jnow  more  than  ever  before,  were  united  in  their 
opposition  to  it,  and  nobl}-  stepped  forward  and  sustained  the  gen- 
eral government  in  what  they  believed  to  be  the  cause  of  rigliteous- 
uess  and  truth. — John  Williamson,  the  son  of  John  Nevin  of  Her- 
ron's  Branch,  had  been  opposed  to  slavery  from  his  3'outh,  and  in 
1835  he  was  at  least  thirty  years  in  advance  of  the  times.  That  is 
all  that  there  is  about  his  kind  of  abolitionism. 

There  was  one  other  passage  in  the  life  of  Dr.  Nevin  at  Alle- 
gheny, which  was  as  satisfactory  to  himself  afterwards  as  it  must 
be  to  all  intelligent  readers  at  the  present  time.  It  had  reference 
to  the  ecclesiastical  division  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  1837, 
which  met  with  his  open  and  unqualified  dj_ssent.  It  was  his  first 
earnest  testimony'  against  schism  in  the  Body  of  Christ,  and  it  was 
as  sincere  and  earnest  as  those  which  followed,  in  his  subsequent 
career,  of  which  the  reader  will  be  duly  apprized  in  the  present 
volume. 


CHAPTER  IX 

PR0FP:SS0'R  XEVIX,  not  as  yet  a  Doctor  of  Divinity,  had 
charge  of  Bi2)lical  Literature  in  the  Seminary,  and  was  not 
required  to  give  special  attention  to  dogmatic  theology  in  his  de- 
partment ;  but  his  reading  of  theological  works,  mostly  for  spiritual 
edilicntion,  had  been  extensive,  and  his  judgment  on  doctrinal 
points  was  quite  equal  to  that  of  his  seniors,  the  learned  Doctors 
who  figured  in  the  famous  controvers}'  between  the  Old  and  New 
Schools.  Very  naturally  his  theological  SA'mpathies  all  along  went 
with  the  Old  School,  but  he  was  clear-headed  enough  to  see  that 
there  was  truth  also  on  the  other  side.  He  also  had  the  feeling  at 
the  same  time,  that  the  controversy  in  certain  quarters  on  his 
own  side  was  urged  forward  in  an  extreme  way.  Its  orthodoxy 
was  stiff,  rigid  and  altogether  too  literal  and  mechanical.  Moreover, 
he  had  by  this  time  mastered  the  German  language,  and  had  held 
communion  with  some  of  the  great  theologians  of  Geinnany.  The 
reading  of  Xeander's  Churcli  History  had  made  an  impression  on 
his  mind  and  given  him  some  idea  of  history  and  the  progressive 
advancement  of  the  kingdom  of  God  on  earth.  All  this  was  op- 
posed to  the  theology  of  the  letter,  or  of  mere  dead  tradition,  and 
suggested  to  his  mind  the  idea  of  a  theology  of  the  spirit  that  ad- 
mitted of  spiritual  growth  and  enlargement. 

He,  therefore,  took  no  prominent  part  in  the  heated  doctrinal  dis- 
cussions of  the  day  that  were  then  raging  around  him  in  his  own 
church.  The  time  for  the  exercise  of  Jiis  talents  in  this  direction 
had  not  yet  arrived.  He  looked  at  the  situation  rather  in  its  bear- 
ings on  Christian  charit}-  and  the  growth  of  godliness  in  the 
clinrclies.  With  a  certain  feeling  of  self-respect  and  independence, 
he  deprecated  the  idea  that  the  Pittsburgh  Synod  should  be  dra- 
gooned to  take  [)art  in  the  Eastern  quarrel  with  regard  to  Mr. 
Barnes;  and  he  went  so  far  as  to  urge  seriously  through  the  Chris- 
Han  Herald  the  plan  of  relativeh'  independent  Synodical  jurisdic- 
tion, proposed  by  Dr.  Archibald  Alexander  of  Princeton.  Then, 
of  course,  when  the  rupture  came, it  was  against  his  mind  and  judg- 
ment, although  he  had  no  difficult}'  about  accepting  it  as  an  aecom- 
l)lished  fact,  and  remaining  with  the  division  to  which  he  in  truth 
belonged.  But  when  it  became  an  object  afterwards  to  engage  the 
Presbyteries  to  a  formal  endorsement  of  the  decisive  action  of  the 


78  AT    ALLEGHENY    FROM    1830-1840  [DiV.  VII 

General  Assembly,  he  felt  it  necessary  to  guard  against  committing 
himself  even  indirectly  to  anything  of  the  sort,  and  he  had  the 
courage  to  do  so  conscientiously.  It  was  one  of  those  questions, 
as  he  believed, that  tried  men's  souls,  although  it  probably  troubled 
only  the  smaller  part  of  the  brethren  in  the  Presbj'teries.  This, 
however,  was  not,  by  any  means,  the  case  with  the  Professor  at 
Allegheny. 

The  Presbytery  of  Ohio  had  passed  several  resolutions,  endor- 
sing the  action  of  the  General  Assembly  in  splitting  the  Church, 
regarding  it  as  a  cause  of  "  special  gratitude  to  the  Great  Head  of 
the  Church  for  the  wisdom  and  firmness  of  the  fiithers  and  brethren 
in  devising  those  measures,  which  were  believed  to  be  conducive 
to  the  promotion  and  security  of  the  unity,  peace,  and  all  the  great 
interests  of  our  beloved  Zion."  When  the  vote  was  taken  there 
were  thirty-eight  ayes,  two  non  liquets,  and  ten  naj'S,  of  which  last 
Prof.  Nevin's  vote  was  one. 

At  a  meeting  in  the  following  year,  June,  1838,  another  crucial 
question  came  up,  called  an  "adhering  act,"  declaring  the  allegi- 
ance of  the  Presbyter}"  to  the  Old  School  General  Assembly  as  the 
true  successor  of  the  Presb3terian  Church — unchurching,  as  he 
thought,  the  New  School  brethren  in  effect — with  something  like  a 
salvo,  conceding  the  orthodoxy  of  those  of  its  members,  who  had 
refused  to  endorse  in  all  respects  what  had  been  done,  ending  with 
an  expression  of  thanks  for  the  otherwise  harmony  of  the  Presby- 
ter}'. 

The  dissenters  of  the  previous  year  for  the  most  part  were  willing 
to  let  this  pass  as  being  in  itself  all  that  the  ease  required  ;  but  the 
Professor  felt  that  something  more  was  needed  to  put  the  matter, 
so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  beyond  all  possible  future  misconstruc- 
tion ;  and  at  a  subsequent  meeting  of  the  Presbyter}'^  he,  therefore, 
asked  the  privilege  of  having  recorded,  in  the  minutes  of  the  l)ody, 
a  distinct  explanation  of  the  sense  of  his  vote  in  the  act  of  adhe- 
sion. As  he  had  had  one  whole  3'ear  to  consider  the  matter,  this  was 
not  the  result  of  a  mere  impulse  but  of  mature  reflection.  The  pa- 
per was  signed  by  three  other  members  of  the  body  and  allowed  to 
be  put  on  i-ecord  in  the  proceedings  of  the  Presb}  tery,  and  is  here 
given  as  throwing  light  on  the  character  and  spirit  of  its  author, 
just  about  one  year  before  he  was  called  to  a  new  sphere  of  lalior  at 
Mercersburg. 

"  To  prevent  misunderstanding,  the  undersigned,  members  of  the 
Presbytery  of  Ohio,  ask  respectfull}^  to  have  it  entered  upon  record, 
that  in  participating  in  the  '  adhering  act '  of  last  June,  they  intended 


ClIAP.  IX]  DOGMATIC    SLUMBERS  79 

siini)ly  to  iimkc  their  clcftioii  between  the  two  ecelesiiistiea]  bodies 
into  which  tlic  ( "hui'cii  has  been  split,  and  uothiug  more.  If  the 
act  ill  (luestioii  be  supposed  to  involve  necessarily  the  idea  of  sub- 
scription to  the  claims  of  the  Old  School  Assembly  to  be  the  only 
true  and  lawful  successor  of  the  Presb^'terian  Church  in  this  coun- 
try, they  must  disclaim  it  altogether.  In  the  present  state  of  the 
Church  they  dare  not  make  the  constitutional  existence  of  either 
Assembly  an  article  of  faith  either  for  themselves  or  for  others.  The 
question  of  legitimate  succession  in  this  case  is  the  one  they  do  not 
choose  to  decide,  or  to  impose  as  a  test  of  ecclesiastical  standing  in 
any  way.  On  this  broad  platform  only  they  have  adhered,  and 
the)'  still  agree  to  adhere,  with  a  good  conscience  and  in  good  faith, 
to  the  General  Assembly  under  whose  banner  the  Presb^'tery  of 
Ohio  has  taken  its  stand." 

The  allowance  of  this  record  on  the  part  of  the  Presbytery  was 
regarded  by  Professor  Nevin  as  a  favor  which  deserved  his  thanks 
at  the  time,  and  it  became  a  pleasure  to  him  afterwards  to  call  it 
thankfully  to  mind.  "  Some  of  my  brethren,"  he  says,  in  18T0,  "  I 
well  know,  considered  me  somewhat  wilfull}-  scrupulous  in  the  case; 
but  I  value  the  record  now  more  than  ever,  since  the  two  sides  of 
the  Church  have  come  together  again,  as  showing  that  I  at  least 
'  never  consented  to  the  counsel  and  deed  of  them ' — now  mostl}' 
silent  in  death  or  otherwise — who  thirt)*^  years  ago  tore  the  body 
so  ruthlessl}'  in  twain.  For  what  less  has  this  coming  together 
again  of  the  two  bodies  been  than  a  general  confession  all  around 
that  there  was  no  sufficient  occasion  originally  for  the  bi'each,  and 
that  as  an  article  of  faith  neither  of  the  two  assemblies  ever  was,  or 
could  be  in  fact,  the  onl)'  true  and  lawful  successor  of  the  Presby- 
terian Church  in  this  country  to  the  exclusion  of  the  other." 

During  the  ten  years  in  the  theological  school  at  Allegheny,  Pr. 
Nevin  made  considerable  jirogress  in  his  religious  and  theological 
life.  At  that  time  he  was  b)-  no  means  just  what  he  had  been  in 
theology  when  he  left  Princeton.  Although  surrounded  by  influ- 
ences at  Pittsburgh  to  keep  him  stationary,  in  the  traces  of  an  old 
and  rigid  Calvinistic  orthodoxy,  he  was  gradually  coming  to  out- 
live it.  This  advancement  he  was  pleased  to  style,  in  1870,  his 
'■historical  awakening,"  because  it  brought  him  to  a  proper  sense 
of  History  in  general,  and  Church  History  in  particular.  It  was 
the  beginning  of  a  new  era  in  his  life,  which  turned  out  to  be  a 
valual)le  providential  preparation  for  his  subsequent  work  in 
another  sphere  of  labor,  and  we  therefore  proceed  to  narrate  how 
it  was  brought  about,  using  for  the  most  part  his  own  words. 


80  AT    ALLEGHENY    FROM    1830-1810  [DiV.  VII 

The  influence,  which  helped  to  enlarge  the  horizon  of  his  relig- 
ious thinking  at  this  time,  came  from  the  new  light  that  began  to 
claAvn  upon  his  mind  in  regard  to  the  true  nature  and  the  vast  sig- 
nificance of  the  history  of  the  Christian  Church.  As  he  had  stud- 
ied it  at  Princeton,  he  says,  it  was  for  him  the  poorest  sort  of  sa- 
cred science.  There  was,  in  truth,  no  real  science  about  it  in  the 
proper  sense  of  the  word ;  and  to  his  mind,  as  he  dryly  remarks, 
its  associations  could  hardl}'  be  called  sacred,  as  they  certainl}^ 
were  not  particularly  edif3'ing  in  any  way.  The  whole  subject, 
however,  began  to  appear  graduall}^  under  a  higher  and  better  view, 
like  the  dawn  of  a  new  day,  through  his  ac(iuaintance  with  the 
father  of  Church  History,  the  vastly  learned  and  profoundly  pious 
1)7'.  Augustus  Neandei\  What  he  was  for  Germany  on  a  large 
scale, that  he  became  to  the  Presbyterian  Professor  in  America  also 
in  a  large  degree,  forming  an  epoch,  a  grand  crisis  or  turning  point 
in  his  life — as  Neander  would  sa}-— followed  l\v  a  new  order  of 
mental  and  spiritual  development. 

His  magic  wand  served  to  bring  up  the  dead  past  before  him,  in 
the  form  of  a  living  present.  Histoiy  became  in  his  hand  like  Eze- 
kiel's  vision  of  the  valley  of  dry  bones,  where  bone  sought  out  his 
bone,  and  sinews  and  flesh  and  skin  came  over  them,  and  breath  came 
into  them,  so  that  in  the  end  "they  lived  and  stood  upon  their  feet, 
an  exceedingly  great  arm}^"  With  all  his  uugainliness  of  manner 
and  style,  he  was  more  to  his  American  pupil  than  the  great  British 
"Wizard  of  the  North."  He  caused  Church  History  to  become  for 
him  like  the  creations  of  poetry  and  romance.  How  much  he  owed 
to  him  in  the  way  of  excitement,  impulse,  suggestion,  knowledge, 
literary  and  religious,  reaching  into  his  life,  was  more,  he  says, 
than  he  could  pretend  to  explain  ;  as  it  was  more,  in  foct,  perhaps, 
than  he  was  able  satisfactorily  to  trace  or  understand. 

He  informs  us  that  his  knowledge  of  the  great  historian  was  at 
first  indirect  only  and  through  outward  report.  He  had  heard  of 
him  only  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear.  But  even  that  had  an  awaken- 
ing eflTect ;  and  it  then  became  with  him  an  object  and  concern  to 
know  him  for  himself.  Primarily  it  was  just  for  this  purpose  that 
he  undertook  to  study  the  German  language;  and  just  as  soon  as 
he  was  able  to  read  it  in  a  stumbling  way,  he  began  to  wrestle  with 
the  loose,  inharmonious  periods  of  Neander.  The  first  German 
book  of  any  account  which  he  read  was  his  Geist  des  TertuUians, 
the  monogram  in  which  he  calls  up  this  fieiy  African  fixther  from 
the  dead,  and  causes  him  to  walk  the  earth  again  in  living,  intelli- 
gible form.     It  was  no  longer  the  Tertullian,  which  he  and  others 


CriAP.  IX]  CHURCH   HISTORY  81 

had  known  spectrally'  befoiv,  the  Tortnllian  of  Mosheim,  whose 
claims  to  be  considered  a  real  Christian  appeared  to  l»e  of  an  ex- 
tremely donbtful  character;  but  Tertnllian,  in  propria  persona,  who 
was  now  allowed  to  speak  for  himself,  and  to  reveal  from  the  depths 
his  own  impetuous,  but  at  the  same  time  most  earnest  religious  life. 

Afterwards  he  took  up  the  "  General  History  of  the  Christian 
Religion  and  Church  "  by  his  new  teacher,  and  under  his  guidance 
I'enewed  his  acquaintance  with  the  first  Christian  ages,  where  all  had 
been  for  him  before  such  a  wilderness  of  drear}-  disorder  and  eon- 
fusion.  Here  now  all  seemed  to  put  on  a  new^  form,  and  to  be 
lighted  up  with  a  new  sense.  Not  that  there  was  a  full  end  of  ob- 
scurities, or  perplexities,  by  any  means.  There  Avas  enough  still 
of  both,  but  even  these  were  not  the  same  as  before.  They  T)e- 
longed  to  a  living  concrete  existence,  and  not  to  a  w^orld  of  dead 
unmeaning  shadows.  They  were  prol)lems  in  what  was  felt  to  be 
a  real  past,  answerable  to  the  sense  of  the  real  present.  Alto- 
gether the  old  ecclesiastical  life  was  made  to  reproduce  itself  from 
its  own  ground  and  in  its  own  projjcr  form. 

"  I  became  reconciled,"  he  sa3's,  "to  the  old  Christian  fathers  ' 
generally.  They  were  no  longer  to  me  the  puzzling  m3'steries  they 
had  been  before.  I  learned  to  understand  them  in  a  measure — their 
inwai'd  si)irit,  and  outward  voice — each  man  speaking  not  in  ray  . 
Pnritanic  Presbyterian  tongue,  but  in  his  own  tongue  wherein  he 
was  born  ;  and  it  was  a  pleasure,  as  well  as  a  great  edification,  to 
become  acquainted  with  them  in  this  Avay.  The  more  I  knew  of 
them  thus,  the  more  they  rose  in  ray  rcA^erence  and  regard.  They 
stood  to  me  indeed  still  environed  with  much  that  I  took  to  be 
wrong,  and  contradictory  to  the  true  sense  of  Christianity  both  in 
doctrine  and  in  life.  But  this  too  I  learned  to  estimate  from  the 
circumstances  of  their  place  and  time;  and  so  that  Avas  not  allowed 
to  blind  me  to  their  substantial  worth. 

"■  Even  the  old  Christian  heresies  were  made  to  partake  in  the 
general  benefit  of  this  historical  illumination.  They  appeared  no 
longer  as  the  freaks  of  brainless  folly,  or  diabolical  madness.  There 
seemed  to  be  both  meaning  and  method  in  their  rise  and  progress. 
Thej'  had  an  inward,  we  might  say,  necessary'  connection  with  the 
history  of  the  Churchy  and  there  could  be,  it  was  clearly  shown,  no  i 
right  understanding  of  Christianity  and  the  Church,  or  the  onward 
progress  of  the  mystery  of  godliness  in  the  world,  without  an  in- 
sight, at  the  same  time,  into  the  interior  nature  of  its  counterpart 
and  contradiction,  the  mystery  of  iniquity  working  from  the  begin- 
ning in  tliis  bad   way.     Tliere  Avas  deep  historical  meaning,  under 


82  AT    ALLEGHENY    FROM    1830-1840  [DiV.   YII 

such  view,  in  Ebionism  and  Gnosticism,  in  Moutanism,  in  Sabel- 
lianism  and  Arianism,  in  Manicheism  and  Pelagianism,  no  less 
than  in  tlie  different  tendences  and  schools  of  the  orthodox  Chris- 
tian faith  itself.  What  a  perfect  bedlam,  in  particular,  the  old 
Gnostic  sects  had  been  previousl}-  for  nw  mind!  But  now,  even 
they  began  to  take  intelligible  shape  and  fall  into  line ;  and  what 
was  chaos  rose  into  a  Avorld  of  at  least  comparative  order  and  light, 
full  of  profound  instruction,  and  worthy  of  diligent  study  for  all 
following  times. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  be  understood,  of  course,  as  bestowing  on 
Neander  unmeasured  or  uncjualified  praise,  lie  was  but  the  pioneer 
in  the  new  order  of  ecclesiastical  history,  with  which  his  name  is 
identified,  and  he  left  room  enough  for  others,  who  have  followed 
him  in  his  course,  to  do  better  in  some  respects  than  himself.  His 
ftiults  and  defects  are  now  generally'  admitted.  They  grew  in  a 
measure  out  of  his  position,  and  the  reigning  character  of  his  own 
religion,  and  have  a  close  connection  with  what  are  otherwise  the 
positive  merits  and  charms  of  his  great  work,  being  in  part  at  least, 
one  might  say,  those  peculiarities  carried  to  a  sort  of  sickly  and 
feeble  excess." 

Dr.  Nevin's  own  judgment  of  Xeander  was  well  expressed  by  that 
of  another,  and  he  therefore  quoted  it  as  expressing  his  own.  "  This 
noble  monument  of  sanctified  learning,"  says  Dr.  Schaff,  his  disci- 
ple and  now  world-famous  co-w^orker  in  the  same  branch  of  science 
(see  his  Tract,  What  is  Church  History,  page  '79),"is  without 
question  the  most  important  product  of  the  modern  German  the- 
ology" in  the  sphere  of  Church  Histor}^  and  must  long  maintain  a 
high  authority.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  not  to  be  denied,  that  in 
point  of  church  character  it  is  no  longer  fully  up  to  the  demands 
of  the  time.  Neander  occupies  still  the  ground  of  Schleiermacher 
in  this  respect,  that  the  church  spirit  api)ears  with  him  under  a  too 
indefinite  form,  and  in  its  general  character  in  too  much  of  a  mere 
feeling  of  religious  communion.  Hence  his  aversion  to  a  pointedly 
distinct  orthodoxy,  and  his  partiality  towards  all  free  dissenting 
tendencies.  Since  the  Reformation  Jubilee  of  1817,  how^ever,  the 
evangelical  theology  of  Germany  has  taken  a  strong  and  con- 
stantl}'  growing  church  direction,  which  will  give  character,  no 
doubt,  also  more  and  more  to  the  future.  To  be  all  that  is  now 
required,  therefore,  a  Church  History  should  unite  a  proper  har- 
mon}',  a  tliorough  use  of  original  sources,  clear  apprehension,  or- 
ganic development,  and  graphic  delineation,  together  with  decided 
though  broad  church  feeling,  and  the  power  of  true  Christian  edifi- 


ClIAP.  IX]  AN    HISTORICAL    AAVAKENTNG  83 

fiitioii.  It  iu:iy  !>(-'  l<>n<j:,  pcrliaps,  before  we  possess  a  work  tliat 
shall  satisfy  e(inally  all  these  requirements.  Still,  the  elements 
which  it  calls  for  are  all  actually  at  hand  in  the  different  activities 
of  theological  learning.  The  material  is  ready;  so  is  also  the  plans 
of  the  edifice,  in  its  main  outline  ;  only  the  master  hand  is  waited 
for,  which  will  put  the  parts  together  and  cause  the  work  to  stand 
forth  to  the  view  of  the  world  as  a  complete,  harmonious  and  mag- 
nificent whole." 

"  My  obligations  were  great  to  Xeander,  as  a  simple  teacher  of 
common  historical  knowledge,  as  an  expositor  of  ecclesiastical  facts 
and  details.  But  I  owed  him  much  more  than  this.  As  Kant  says 
somewhere  of  the  influence  the  philosophical  writings  of  David 
Hume  had  upon  him,  so  I  may  say  in  all  truth  of  the  new  views  of 
history  set  before  me  by  Neander — 'they  broke  up  my  dogmatic 
slumbers.'  They  were  for  me  an  actual  awakening  of  the  soul, 
which  went  far  beyond  any  direct  instruction  involved  in  it.  and 
the  force  of  which  was  by  no  means  confined  to  the  theological 
sphere  Avith  which  it  was  immediately  concerned,  l)ut  made  itself 
profoundly  felt  also  in  the  end  on  my  whole  theological  and  relig- 
ious life. 

"Xot  to  be  more  particular,  it  was  much  to  be  put  merely  in  the 
Avay  of  seeing  what  History  properly  means,  under  the  view  of  an  ob- 
jective movement,  determined  by  its  forces  towards  its  own  heaven- 
appointed  end — much  to  be  brought  to  the  feeling  that  there  is  a 
divinity  even  in  profane  history  which  shapes  it  evervAvhere  to  the 
service  of  a  divine  universal  plan;  but  still  more,  to  feel  tliis  as 
true  of  the  history  of  God's  Holy  Catholic  Church,  in  a  sense  fully 
answerable  to  the  great  promise  of  Jesus  to  His  Church :  '  The  gates 
of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  it.  Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway,  even 
to  the  end  of  the  •w^orld.'  There  is,  therefore,  no  part  of  a  true 
lil)eral  culture  in  any  form,  which  is  more  important  than  such 
])()W('r  of  seeing  and  feeling  the  significance  of  the  historical  element 
in  all  human  existence.  There  can  be  no  right  knowledge  of  the 
woild,  and  no  right  standing  or  working  in  the  Avorld  Avithout  it. 
lU'fore  my  aciiuaintance  Avith  Xeander,  it  seems  to  me  uoav,  looking 
back  upon  my  life,  that  this  sense  of  the  historical  Avas  something 
Avhich  I  c<jul(l  hardly  be  said  to  have  possessed  at  all.  But  since 
then  it  has  come  to  condition  all  my  views  of  life.  I  do  not  mean 
to  say  that  it  became  all  at  once  to  be  of  such  force  for  me  through 
Xeander's  teaching.  It  was  an  idea  or  sentiment  which  grew,  and 
took  upon  it  full  form,  only  in  the  course  of  subsequent  years;  but 
to  him,  I  owe  it  first  of  all  that  anv  such  idea  began  to  <laAvn   upon 


84  AT    ALLEGHENY    FROM    1830-1840  [DiV.  VII 

my  mind.  He  first  gave  me  the  feeling,  in  some  measure,  of  what 
history  means  for  the  life  of  the  world  everywhere,  and  most  of  all 
in  the  ruling  central  sphere  of  religion. 

"  It  was  an  advantage  at  the  same  time  to  be  now  also  introduced 
to  Gieseler's  great  work  in  the  same  department  of  learning.  I 
found  him  to  be  much  less  interesting  than  Neander,  and  of  a  very 
different  spirit.  It  is  well  known  that  the  main  value  of  his  work 
lies  not  in  his  own  very  brief  text,  which  is  rationalistically  cold 
and  dr}^  but  in  the  full  extracts  from  original  authorities  with 
which  the  text  is  accompanied  in  the  way  of  notes.  These  are 
selected  with  great  care,  fine  judgment,  and  impartial  honesty  ;  and 
make  it  possible  for  the  reader  to  construe  facts  for  himself,  at  least 
in  a  general  wa}',  as  the  truth  may  be  felt  to  require.  In  this  view, 
his  history  falls  in  well  with  that  of  Neander,  and  the  two  can,  as 
they  should,  be  studied  profitably  together ;  a  much  more  effectual 
combination  of  learning  and  faith  than  that  which  I  had  been  able 
to  reach  in  earlier  years,  b^^  trying  to  supplement  and  sanctify 
Mosheim  through  the  judicious  use  of  Joseph  Milnor. 

"When  Dr.  Halsey  withdrew  from  the  Seminary  in  IS.St,  as  the 
way  was  not  open  for  the  appointment  of  a  new  professor  in  his 
place,  it  became  necessary  for  me  to  widen  the  range  of  my  teach- 
ing, so  as  to  include  in  it  Church  History  also,  along  with  the  studies 
belonging  previousl}^  to  my  proper  department.  This  brought  me 
into  still  closer  connection  with  the  science,  and  may  have  increased 
my  interest  in  it  to  some  extent ;  but  so  far  as  I  can  remember  it 
did  not  amount  to  very  much.  My  teaching  was  more  mechanical 
than  independent  and  free.  I  did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  attempt  any 
material  innovation  on  the  course  of  instruction,  as  it  had  stood 
before,  and  held  myself  to  Mosheim  as  a  text  book  according  to  the 
fashion  which  then  prevailed  in  our  American  schools  of  divinity 
generally.  In  those  days  there  was  no  help  for  this  anywhere. 
The  time  had  not  come  for  it  to  be  otherwise. 

"  I  will  not  pretend  to  particularize,"  the  Professor  goes  on  to  say, 
"  the  points  in  which  my  general  doctrinal  theolog}'  was  affected 
by  the  practical  hermeneutical  and  historical  experiences  of  which 
I  have  now  spoken.  What  has  been  said  is  snflHcient  to  show  how 
different  influences  and  tendencies  wrought  in  my  mind  at  this  time 
towards  the  production  of  a  common  spiritual  movement,  and  also 
to  make  it  plain  in  what  direction  that  movement  prevailingly  lay. 
It  had  for  its  scope  and  aim — though  more  in  the  way  of  uncon- 
scious divination  than  in  the  wa}'  of  clear  open  reflection — the  right 
adjustment  of  the  objective  and  sul)jective  sides  of  Christianity,  its 


ClIAl'.  IX]  SELF-CRITICISM  85 

supcniatui-al  substance  and  its  iiatunil  form,  in  their  relation  to 
each  other;  and  there  belonged  to  it  also  throughout  an  inward 
determination  towards  Christ,  as  offering  in  the  constitution  of  His 
own  person  the  only  proper  solution  for  the  problem.  In  other 
words,  the  course  in  which  my  religious  life  and  theology  la}'  was 
of  one  order  with  that  more  decided  Christological  tendency,  which 
came  to  prevail  more  fully  in  later  years;  and  to  .which  alone,  more 
fully  than  to  any  other  cause,  I  owe  whatever  of  peculiarity  may 
seem  to  have  attached  itself  to  m}'  theological  views.  It  is  just 
hertvthat  the  key  to  ni}-  whole  religious  history  lies.  All^aloJig- 
has  been^liiove'melit  iirthe  sllllie  direction ;  a  movement  away  from 
the  simply  subjective  in  religion  towards  the  supernatural  objec- 
tive ;  from  the^spiritually  aLsffact,  asTIook  at  it,  to  the  historic- 
ally- concrete ;  and  from  the  Gnostically  ideal  to  the  Christologi- 
cally  real.  In  its  hidden  inmost  meaning,  it  may  be  considered  as 
a  progressive  turning  of  the  soul  throughout  to  Him  who  stood  in 
vision  before  St.  John,  when  he  was  in  the  Spirit  on  the  Lord's 
Day  in  the  isle  that  is  called  Patmos — the  Alpha  and  Omega,  the 
Beginning  and  the  End,  the  First  and  the  Last,  Which  was  dead 
and  is  alive  again.  Which  is,  and  Which  was,  and  Which  is  to  come, 
the  Almight}',  the  Amen,  the  Faithful  and  true  AVitness,  the  Begin- 
ning of  the  Creation  of  God,  with  Whom  are  the  Keys  of  Death 
and  Hades." 

Dr.  Nevin's  theological  status,  therefore,  in  1840,  was  an  evident 
advance  on  the  position  he  occupied  previously  in  1830  when  he 
entered  upon  his  duties  at  Allegheny ;  in  some  respects  it  may  be 
truly  said  to  have  been  a  material  advance.  But  afterwards,  in  his 
retrospective  view  of  himself,  it  did  not,  in  fact,  amount  to  much. 
The  old  defects  were  still  present  in  his  theological  thinking,  and 
therefore  made  themselves  felt,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  in  all 
his  preaching,  teaching  and  working.  What  he  had  gained  was 
more  of  a  reaching  after  truth  in  the  right  direction  than  a  full 
comprehension  of  it,  or  coming  up  to  it  in  its  own  proper  form. 
He  read  other  German  authors, especially  those  who  wrote  in  Latin, 
such  as  Ernesti,  De  Wette,  Ilosenmueller,  Gesenius,  Kuinoel,  and 
others,  some  of  whom  like  Ernesti,  with  Andover  Seminary  and 
other  high  authorities,  he  regarded  as  sound  and  orthodox,  but 
afterwards  discovered  that  they  were  considerably  more  rationalis- 
tic than  evangelical. 

One  proof  of  his  defect  in  this  respect,  which  he  gives  himself 
with  much  candor  and  siraplicit}',  and  with  some  appearance  ot 
naixete.  was  the  fact  that  he  had   not  vet — after  so  long  a  time  and 


86  AT    ALLEGHENY    FROM    1830-1840  [DiV.  YII 

SO  much  study — learned  to  make  any  proper  account  of  the  Apos- 
tles' Creed.  As  this  had  nothing  to  do  either  with  his  religion  or 
theology  during  all  the  time  he  had  been  at  Princeton,  so  it  had 
just  as  little  to  do  with  them  during  his  ten  years'  connection  with 
the  Western  Seminary.  Like  himself  neither  of  his  colleagues, 
Halse}-  or  Elliott,  felt  it  to  be  any  part  of  their  business  as  Profes- 
sors in  the  Institution  to  teach  the  Creed  or  in  any  way  to  build 
their  diyinity  upon  it,  or  to  make  any  use  of  it  whateyer  for  the 
purpose  of  Christian  worship.  There  was  not  a  single  occasion, 
on  which  any  one  of  them  eyer  thought  it  needful  or  adyisable  to 
repeat  it,  or  eyen  to  appeal  to  it  reyerentially  as  the  common  pro- 
fession of  our  "  undoubted  Christian  faith."  It  was  no  better  with 
the  old-fashioned  orthodoxy  of  the  churches  generally,  whether  in 
the  city  or  country,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  in  faci  it  had  no 
room  for  the  actual  use  of  the  Creed.  If  the  yenerable  symbol 
belonged  to  it,  in  an}'  other  way,  it  was  only  as  the  ''  fossil  relic 
of  by-gone  ages.'' 

Dr.  Xeyin  affirms  that  he  had  neyer  heard  it  from  a  Presb3'terian 
altar  or  pulpit ;  and  that  he  had  neyer  dreamed  of  making  it  any 
part  of  his  own  ministration  in  the  sanctuary — not  eyen  out  at 
Braddock's  Field,  where  it  would  haye  been  so  easy  to  bring  it  into 
full  deyotional  use.  Presbyterianism  in  those  days,  whateyer  may 
be  the  case  at  present,  had  little  or  no  heart  for  the  Apostles'  Creed, 
and  the  introduction  of  it  anywhere  into  the  worship  of  the 
churches  would  haye  been  most  probably  censured  as  an  unpardon- 
able innoyation.  And  yet,  as  all  the  world  knows,  the  formula  is 
acknowledged  in  the  Westminster  Confession  of  Faith,  although 
unfortunately  left  out  of  the  Shorter  Catechism. 

In  the  Heidelberg  Catechism,  on  the  other  hand,  not  long  since 
approyed  by  the  Presbyterian  General  Assembl}-  for  the  instruction 
of  the  3-oung,  it  constitutes  a  large  part  of  its  contents,  which  is 
significant,  as  it  yirtually  affirms  the  symbolical  authority  of  the 
Creed  on  which  the  Catechism,  like  Calyin's  Institutes,  is  based. 
In  the  Reformed  and  Lutheran  Churches  the  youth  at  an  early  age 
became  familiar  with  the  Creed  as  the^'  learned  it  out  of  their  cate- 
chisms, and  in  some  fiimilies  at  least,  as  the}'  were  accustomed  to 
repeat  it  at  night  in  connection  Avith  their  prayers.  The  youngest 
and  the  most  tender  branches  in  the  house  learned  it  by  hearing 
their  older  brothers  or  sisters  reciting  it  nightly,  after  they  had 
fairl}^  mastered  for  themselyes  the  Lord's  Prayer.  The  probal)ility 
is  that  neither  Dr.  Neyin  at  Pittsburgh,  nor  man}^  other  Presbyte- 
rian diyines,  if  they  had  been  called  upon  to  repeat  it  from  the  pul- 


Chap.  IX]  defects  87 

pit,  woiikl  have  been  nUle  to  have  gone  throui>h  Avith  it  without 
stumbling,  or  travestying  it  from  beginning  to  end. 

With  such  want  of  i)ower  to  appreciate  the  Creed  on  Dr.  Xevin's 
part,  there  must  have  been  necessarily  a  corresponding  want  of 
power  also  to  do  full  justice  to  the  view  of  religion  generally,  in 
which  it  finds  its  proper  home.  His  hermeneutical  and  historical 
enlargement,  whatever  that  may  have  been,  had  not  brought  with 
it  to  him  as  yet  an}'  proper  apprehension  of  what  may  be  denomi- 
nated the  churchly  and  sacramental  side  of  Christianity,  without 
which  the  sense  of  its  objective  presence  in  the  world  must  always 
be,  as  with  Schleiermacher — more  or  less  sentimental  and  vague. 
There  was,  therefore,  a  large  part  of  the  Xew  Testament,  in  this 
view,  that  was  not  allowed  in  his  mind,  as  he  frankly  admits,  to 
come  to  its  full  and  fair  meaning,  which,  as  it  were,  was  crowded 
out  of  sight  all  the  time  by  the  stress  of  what  was  held  to  be  the 
plain  meaning  of  another  part  of  it.  For  the  same  reason  there 
was  also  a  want  with  him  of  true  catholic  freedom  in  estimating  the 
significance  of  historical  forms  and  modes  of  church  life  differing 
from  his  own,  more  especially  where  they  had  to  do  with  the  realis- 
tic side  of  religion  at  what  seemed  to  be  the  cost  of  its  spiritualis- 
tic side. 

Looking  at  the  matter  in  this  light,  he  honesth'  acknowledges,  as 
facts  showed,  that  he  saw  in  the  forms  of  the  Roman  Church  itself 
as  a  matter  of  course,  as  well  as  in  its  theory  of -the  Gospel  in  gen- 
eral, onh'  gross  superstitions  throughout,  and  the  most  stupid  want 
of  common  sense.  Old  Lutheranism,  too,  in  his  eyes  was  not  ver}- 
ranch  better ;  the  wonder  with  him  simply  being  how  such  respect- 
able Lutheranism  as  that  represented  b}-  the  General  Synod  and  its 
institutions  at  Gett3'sburg,  Pa.,  could  so  cling  as  it  did  to  a  title, 
which  no  longer  expressed  in  any  way  its  true  faith.  Xeither  could 
he  see  anything  great  or  good  in  the  Episcopal  Church,  except 
what  it  might  have  in  its  forms  of  religious  character,  which  seemed 
to  be  in  it  by  mistake,  belonging  in  truth  to  a  difliereut  order  of 
church  life.  The  Low  Church  party,  accordingly,  were  held  to  be 
in  the  right  as  against  the  High  Church  part}';  they  had  with  them 
all  the  evangelical  piety  of  the  body,  so  far  as  there  was  any  such 
piety  at  all  in  it ;  but  then  they  were  in  a  f^xlse  position  throughout, 
which  it  was  impossible  to  look  upon  with  an}-  sort  of  sincere 
respect.  The  distinctive  spirit  of  Episcoi)}'  was  held  to  belong 
altogether  to  the  other  side  ;  and  this  seemed  to  be  a  species  of 
judicial  blindness  only,  given  up  fully  to  the  service  of  lies  instead 
of  the  truth.     The  Oxford  Tractarian  movement,  in  i)articulnr,  was 


88  AT    ALLEGHENY    FROM    1830-1840  [DiV.  YII 

regarded  with  pity  and  contempt,  and  the  title  of  Neivmania^ 
stupid!}'  applied  to  it  b}^  some,  was  considered  as  a  pun,  not  alto- 
gether void  of  propriety  and  good  common  sense. 

And  yet,  Dr.  Xevin  assures  us  that  his  first  glimpse  of  what  the 
church  spirit  really  meant,  was  obtained  unexpectedly  from  look- 
ing into  a  volume  of  the  Oxford  Tracts,  which  a  friend  had  bought, 
and,  after  finding  them  to  be  dry  and  tiresome  reading,  passed  them 
over  into  his  hands.  He  was  not  converted,  it  is  true,  in  any  sense 
to  the  views  of  the  book.  But  he  saw — what  he  had  not  imagined 
or  believed  before — that  there  was  deep,  intelligent  conviction  at 
work  in  the  Oxford  movement ;  that  the  'men  concerned  in  it  were 
neither  h3'pocrites  nor  visionaries;  and  there  flashed  upon  his  mind, 
at  the  same  time,  some  sense  of  the  profoundly  earnest  religious 
problem  with  which  they  were  wrestling  and  in  their  way  endeavor- 
ing to  solve.  That  was  all.  But  where  he  then  stood,  this  was,  in 
the  way  of  seed-thought,  a  great  deal  in  the  circumstances. 

Thus  ftir  we  have  made  use  of  Dr.  Xevin 's  own  account  of  his 
life,  inward  and  outward,  but  here  the  autobiography  suddenly 
breaks  off, and  it  was  never  finished, as  he  hoped  it  might  be.  Here- 
after, therefore,  we  must  continue  his  record,  not  as  made  in  his 
own  words  ;  but  as  written  upon  the  Church  by  his  works  and 
words.  In  connection  with  the  story  of  his  "  Own  Life,"  until  he 
emerged  from  Pittsburgh,  he  wrote  out  a  pretty  extended  critique 
of  his  faith  at  that,  time  as  compared  with  what  it  was  thirty  j-ears 
afterwards;  but  as  that  shows  the  progress  he  had  made  during 
that  interval  and  the  more  settled  convictions,  religious  and  theo- 
logical, to  which  he  had  then  attained,  we  hold  it  in  reserve  until 
we  come  to  it  in  chronological  order  in  1810. 

As  Dr.  Xevin  was  not  entirely  stationary  nor  merely  hybernating 
on  his  father's  farm  or  at  Princeton,  but  gradually  growing  in  wis- 
dom and  strength,  so  it  was  with  him  at  the  Western  Seminar}', 
and  in  fact  much  more  so.  What  would  have  become  of  him,  or 
what  he  would  liaA'e  done  with  himself,  had  he  remained  at  Pitts- 
burgh, it  is  now  impossible  for  any  one  to  say  ;  but  it  is  not  likely 
that  in  his  own  church  and  in  his  own  surroundings,  he  would 
have  enjoyed  the  same  theological  freedom,  which  he  came  to  enjoy 
elsewhere,  for  what  he  regarded  as  his  own  peculiar  growth  and 
enlargement.  Possibly  he  would  have  made  comparatively  little 
advancement  in  his  life,  or  if  there  had  been  any  at  all,  it  would 
have  been  something  abnormal  and  morl)id  rather  than  catholic 
and  free.  In  this  Pittsburgh  stadium  of  his  life  he  had  fairly-  set 
out  on  his  theological  pilgrimage,  little  knowing  or  dreaming  at 


Chap.  IX]  reminiscences  89 

tilt'  time  through  whnl  waves  of  imvard  coiitliet  and  outward  con- 
tradiction it  was  to  h'ad  liiui  in  after  years.  The  part  of  his 
journey  over  which  he  had  idready  travelled  was  not  destined  to 
represent  its  character  as  a  whole.  It  brought  out  only  one  side 
of  it,  and  that  b}^  no  means  the  side  which  was  destined  to  be  the 
broadest  and  the  most  fruitful  in  the  end.  It  was  only  with  a  part 
of  his  being  that  he  stood — rather  uncasih' — in  the  Ernestian,or  as 
we  ma^'  sa}-,  in  the  Andoverian  order  of  thought.  There  was  an- 
other part  of  his  being,  that  had  been  exercised  all  along  in  various 
ways  against  it  and  that  had  refused  to  acknowledge  its  authority. 
This  had  been  grownng  and  gathering  strength  in  its  own  way,  until 
at  last  in  the  course  of  years  it  mastered  the  whole  movement  to 
which  it  l)elonged,  and  gave  it  a  character  just  the  opposite  of 
what  it  seemed  to  have  at  the  first.  The  movement,  nevertheless, 
was  intrinsicalh"  one,  and  in  its  main  meaning  harmonious  with 
itself  throughout.  What  proved  to  l)e  the  ultimate  scope  of  it  in 
truth,  God  so  ordering,  was,  in  fact,  the  real  sense  of  it  from  the 
beginning.  There  was  here  a  genetic  process  or  growth,  and  it  is 
the  privilege  no  less  than  the  comfort  of  faith  to  believe  that  it. was 
directed  by  a  higher  than  human  wisdom.  But  this  growth  or 
spiritual  development  could  be  made  much  better  in  another  sphere 
and  a  different  atmosphere.  The  change  was  made  not  by  a  vision, 
as  when  ^Eneas  was  told  by  his  wife's  pale  shade  to  leave  Troy  and 
seek  a  new  home  in  Ital}-,  but  b}-  clear  indications  of  Providence, 
whereb3'  our  theological  pilgrim,  as  he  sa3's,  was  lifted  up  as  it 
were  by  the  Almighty  hand  of  God  itself  from  the  ])lace  w-here  he 
stood,  and  transplanted  into  an  altogether  different  world. — He 
received  the  degree  of  D.I),  from  Jefferson  College,  Pa.,  in  1839, 
and  that  of  LL.D.  from  Union  College  in  1873. 

Just  as  we  had  finished  our  review-  of  Dr.  Xevin's  life  at  Pitts- 
burgh we  received  the  following  letter  from  the  Rev.  Alfred  Nevin,. 
D.D.,  LL.D.,  in  w'hich  he  gives  his  early  recollections  and  impressions 
of  Dr.  Nevin,  which  we  glfidly  insert  at  this  place.  Our  readers  as 
w'cll  as  the  author  of  this  volume  will  doubtless  thank  him  for  this 
interesting  sketch  of  his  theological  teacher: 

Rev.  Theodore  Appel,  D.D.  Dear  Brother:  It  gives  me  verj- 
great  pleasure  to  comply  with  your  request  for  some  reminiscences 
of  my  distinguished  kinsman,  the  Rev.  J.  W.  Nevin,  D.D.,  LL.D., 
with  the  preparation  of  whose  biography  you  have  been  happily- 
entrusted.  These  reminiscences  Avill  mainly  cover  the  period  of  my 
student  life  in  the  AVestern   Tlieological    Seminary  at   Alleghenv,. 


90  AT    ALLEGHENY    FROM    1830-1840  [DiV.   VII 

from  1837  to  1840,  during  which  he  filled  one  of  the  chairs  in  that 
Institution. 

Dr.  Nevin  had  made  a  near  approach  to  the  meridian  of  his 
strength  and  influence.  He  was  a  most  diligent  student  and  his 
growing  acquirements,  added  to  the  vast  scholarship  which  he  had 
brought  with  him  to  his  important  position,  gave  him  a  literary 
reputation  which  it  is  the  privilege  of  but  few  men  to  obtain. 
Even  in  his  walk  along  the  streets  of  the  city,  he  carried  with  him 
an  air  of  elevation  and  abstraction  which  indicated  the  high  regions 
of  research,  reflection  and  aspiration  in  wh'ch  he  was  accustomed 
to  move.  All  who  knew  him,  and  there  were  not  man}'  to  whom  he 
was  a  stranger,  either  through  the  pnlpit  or  the  press,  regarded  .him 
as  a  thesaurus  of  learning,  especially  in  the  Scientia  scientiarum, 
which  treats  of  God,  of  His  character,  His  attributes,  gOA'ernment 
and  relations  to  our  race. 

I  was  for  some  months  a  member  of  Dr.  Nevin's  family,  and 
thus  had  an  opportunity  of  judging  him  in  that  sphere,  which,  be- 
cause of  its  exemption  from  outside  observation  and  restraints,  is 
the  best  test  of  character.  In  the  domestic  circle  he  was,  though 
aftable  and  kind,  generally  dignified  and  silent  in  his  manner.  He 
had  the  grace  of  hospitality  in  a  large  degree,  and  always  seemed 
to  enjoy  the  visits  of  friends,  which  called  it  into  exercise.  A 
young  gentleman  who  was  a  candidate  for  the  ministry,  and  whose 
financial  means  were  limited,  was  assisted  b}'  him  to  a  place  in  his 
household,  and  received  from  him  the  most  affectionate  and  gener- 
ous consideration  in  the  way  of  aid  towards  licensure.  He  was 
eminently  faithful  in  private  devotion,  notwithstanding  his  numer- 
ous and  pressing  engagements.  As  the  room  I  occupied  adjoined 
his  study,  I  knew  him  to  lock  his  door  daily  after  breakfiist  and 
famil}'  worship,  to  spend  an  hour  in  communion  with  God,  before 
entering  upon  the  duties  to  which  his  professorship  called  him. 

Among  the  students  of  the  Seminary  Dr.  Nevin  was  eminently' 
popular.  At  their  first  acquaintance  with  him,  the}'  were  apt  to 
regard  him  as  phlegmatic  in  temperament,  frigid  in  his  bearing, and 
difficult  of  approach ;  but  repeated  intercourse  with  him  developed 
to  them  his  strong  sympathetic  and  benevolent  nature,  and  kindled 
in  their  hearts  the  highest  admiration  and  most  ardent  attachment. 
When  in  the  recitation  room  he  was  sometimes  a  little  sharp  and 
severe  in  his  tone  and  exacting ;  but  all  this  was  overlooked  in 
A-iew  of  the  evident  design  and  tendenc}'  to  promote  the  fldelit}'  of 
those  with  whom  he  was  dealing.  On  such  occasions  he  always 
appeared  without  a  book,  seeming  to  be  master  of  every  depart- 
ment in  which  he  was  called  to  aive  instruction. 


Chap.  IX]  reminiscences  91 

As  a  preaflior.  Dr.  Xcvin,  to  thoughtful  persons,  was  exceedingly 
attractive.  If  he  erred  at  all  in  this  capacity,  it  was  in  dealing  too 
profoundly  with  the  themes  he  had  in  hand.  "When  he  had  treated 
a  subject,  every  body  felt  that  he  had  left  but  little  to  saj-  that 
could  be  said  touching  it  with  advantage.  He  vas  by  no  means  a 
cultivated  orator,  but  there  was  an  originalit}-,  persuasiveness  and 
unction  in  his  thought,  which  made  the  grace  of  elocution  to  be 
forgotten.  He  needed  not  such  external  drapery  for  his  earnest 
and  exhaustive  deliverances.  A  sermon  preached  by  Dr.  Xevin  in 
the  Presbyterian  congregation  at  Uniontown,  Pa.,  on  the  "  Se:il  of 
the  Spirit,"  and  published  by  their  request  and  expense,  was  a  speci- 
men of  the  mighty  grasp  with  which  he  seized  any  theme  he  under- 
took to  explain  and  elucidate.  From  the  deep  impression  his  dis- 
courses made  u[)on  me  I  remember  many  of  them  until  this  day — 
two  particularly  on  the  texts :  "  Because  I  live,  ye  shall  live  also," 
and  "  The  disciples  were  called  Christians  first  in  Antioch,"  which 
Avere  beyond  all  (piestion  the  grandest  and  most  glorious  exposi- 
tions of  divine  truth  to  which  I  have  ever  listened.  I  never  knew 
him  to  read  a  sermon  ;  his  delivery  was  alwaj-s  without  notes,  but 
the  least  attentive  hearer  could  not  fail  to  perceive  and  feel  that  he 
had  made  the  most  diligent  and  thorough  preparation  for  his  audi- 
ences. He  stood  calm,  poised,  and  self-possessed  in  the  pulpit,  pro- 
claiming his  messages  with  a  power,  pathos  and  pungenc}'  which 
fixed  every  eye  upon  hira,  and  stirred  the  depths  of  every  heart 
which  he  addressed.  For  some  time  he  supplied  gratuitously  the 
Ladies'  Seminar}-  at  Sewickley,in  which  he  felt  a  deep  interest,  with 
the  preaching  of  the  Gospel,  and  I  remember  well  that  one  wintry 
Saturday,  when  he  could  not  reach  the  place  by  boat,  by  reason  of 
the  ice  on  the  river,  he  started  on  foot  to  travel  the  fifteen  or  eigh- 
teen intervening  miles  to  1)ear  the  bread  of  life  to  his  little  fiock. 

A  few  years  before  his  death,  and  after  his  resignation  of  the 
Presidency  of  the  College  at  Lancaster,  Dr.  Nevin  made  me  a  visit 
in  IMiil:\(U'l[)hia.  In  a  private  conversation,  I  asked  him  how  he 
expected  to  spend  his  time  now  that  he  had  no  official  duties  to 
perform.  His  brief  but  solemn  and  significant  answer  was,  "  In  pre- 
paring for  heaven."  It  may  be  that  the  double  tie  b}-  which  we 
were  united  as  cousins  and  brothers-in-law,  tinctures  with  some 
partiality-  ni}-  estimate  of  John  Williamson  Xevin's  character;  but 
in  my  soberest,  sincerest,  and  most  independent  judgment,  I  hold 
him,  and  shall  so  cherish  his  memory,  as  one  of  the  greatest,  best, 
and  most  influential  nu-u  tii.-il  the  American  Church  has  3-et  pro- 
duced. ^  I'l'V  truly  yours, 

Lancaster,  Pa.,  Feb.  1,  1S89.      '  '   '  ALFRED  XFVIX. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  Theological  Seminaiy  of  the  German  Reformed  Church 
was  founded  in  1825,  and  located  in  the  first  place  at  Carlisle, 
Pa.,  then  removed  successively  from  Carlisle  to  York,  Pa.,  and 
from  York  to  Mercersburg,  Pa.  It  passed  through  man^-  struggles 
for  existence,  but  proved  to  be  of  eminent  service  in  the  Church, 
especiall}'  in  its  transition  from  the  iise  of  the  German  to  that  of 
the  English  language  in  its  congregations.  Dr.  Lewis  Mayer,  its 
senior  professor,  with  Dr.  Frederick  Augustus  Ranch,  as  a  colleague 
from  the  j-ear  1832,  remained  at  his  post  until  the  year  1839,  when, 
on  account  of  ill  health  and  other  considerations,  he  felt  himself 
compelled  to  resign  his  professorship  in  the  Seminar}^,  and  to  with- 
draw from  public  life.  His  resignation  was  accepted  by  the  Synod 
in  the  fall  of  1839,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jacob  Becker,  of  Northamp- 
ton Co.,  Pa.,  an  eminent  theologian  and  one  who  had  himself  pre- 
pared a  number  of  students  for  the  ministry  in  a  private  school  of 
his  own,  was  elected  to  fill  Dr.  Ma3'er's  place,  but  for  various  rea- 
sons he  could  not  see  his  way  clear  to  accept  of  this  appointment. 
Thereupon  the  Board  of  Visitors  of  the  Seminary,  as  authorized 
b}^  the  Synod,  proceeded  to  fill  the  vacancy  by  appointing  the  Rev. 
Albert  Helfenstein,  Jr.,  of  Hagerstown,  Md.,at  the  time  one  of  the 
best  educated  scholars  in  the  denomination.  But  he  declined  also, 
and  the  Church,  considerably  torn  by  dissensions  and  cliversit}"  of 
opinions,  was  out  at  sea,  not  knowing  where  to  look  for  a  master 
in  Israel  who  could  command  its  confidence.  In  these  circum- 
stances the  Board  called  a  General  Convention  or  Synod  of  the 
Church  to  convene  in  Chambersburg,  Pa.,  at  an  earl}-  da}'. 

At  this  time  Dr.  Nevin  was  favorably  known  to  some  few  Re- 
formed ministers,  and  had  once  attended  the  meetings  of  their 
Synod  at  Pittsburgh,  some  four  or  five  years  before,  at  which  he 
had  expi-essed  his  interest  and  sj-mpathy  in  their  work,  which  at 
that  time  was  prevailingly  German  in  character.  As  no  one  at 
home  could  be  found  to  be  the  standard-bearer  in  Israel,  his  name 
was  incidentally  mentioned  in  connection  with  the  vacant  chair  in 
a  part}'  of  Reformed  ministers,  suggested  probably-  by  Mrs.  Dr.  B. 
S.  Schneck,  of  Chambersburg,  cousin  of  Dr.  D.  H.  Riddle,  of  Pitts- 
burgh, through  whom  she  had  become  more  particularly  acquainted 
with  him.    But  it  was  through  the  Rev.  Samuel  R.  Fisher,  a  young 

(  92  ) 


Chap.  X]  rev.  samuel  r.  fisher  93 

iiiMii  :it  the  time,  more  tlitiu  through  any  one  else,  that  liis  name 
Avas  l)rought  before  the  Synod  in  such  a  manner  as  to  result  in  his 
election  as  i)rofessor.  The  part  which  he  took  in  the  matter  Avas  a 
kind  of  darinu:  inspiration  in  his  own  mind,  which  could  hardly  be 
exi)ected  from  one  of  his  usually  cool  and  cautious  nature,  and  it 
is  therefore  not  without  interest  in  itself  as  well  as  an  important 
thread  in  this  history. 

^^'llilst  Ml'.  Fisher  was  pastor  of  the  Emmittsburg  charge  in 
Maryland,  he  learned  incidentally  on  Sunday,  in  one  of  his  congre- 
gations, from  a  student  of  the  Western  Theological  Seminary  then 
present,  that  the  Rev.  Dr.  Nevin  had  resigned  his  professorship  in 
that  institution.  "  This  intelligence,"  saj'S  Mr.  Fisher,  much  inter- 
ested already  in  the  general  aflfivirs  of  the  Church,  "  produced  a  singu- 
lar effect  upon  my  mind.  At  once  I  thought  I  could  see  light 
breaking  through  the  gloom,  which  had  darkened  the  prospects  of 
properly  filling  the  vacant  professorship  in  the  Seminary  at  Mer- 
cersburg.  It  occurred  to  me  that  Dr.  Nevin  was  the  man  who  was 
in  ever}'  way  fitted  for  the  position.  At  the  time  I  had  no  [)ersonal 
acquaintance  with  him,  although  I  had  seen  and  heard  him  preach 
at  different  times.  My  knowledge  of  his  character  and  attainments 
as  a  theologian  and  biblical  scholar,  well  versed  in  German  litera- 
ature,  was  obtained  through  my  relations  to  a  number  of  his  inti- 
mate acquaintances  and  admirers,  among  whom  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Brown,  President  of  Jefferson  College,  under  whom  I  had  studied, 
was  specially  prominent. 

"  From  the  moment  Dr.  Xevin  had  been  thns  suggested  to  m}- 
mind  as  a  snital)le  person  to  fill  the  vacant  professorship,  I  was  in- 
s[)ired  with  an  enthusiasm  in  regard  to  it,  such  as  I  have  never  ex- 
perienced in  relation  to  an}^  other  subject.  It  took  possession  of 
my  whole  being.  It  was  in  my  thoughts  hy  day  and  b}-  night ;  and 
for  the  time  being  it  entered  largeh'  into  m}-  most  fervent  devo- 
tional moods.  It  seemed  as  though  I  could  not  by  any  effort  pos- 
sibl}'  divest  m3^self  of  it.  I  spoke  with  different  brethren  from  time 
to  time  about  it,  and  my  fii'st  impulse  would  have  led  me  to  open  a 
correspondence  with  Dr.  Xevin,  but  upon  further  reflection  it  seemed 
to  me  that  it  might  be  regarded  as  presumptuous  on  my  part,  as  I 
was  still  young  in  the  ministry  and  the  service  of  the  Church,  and 
l>robably  as  premature  also,  in  view  of  the  fixct  that  the  ]U)ard  of 
Visitors  would  soon  convene  for  the  purpose  of  i)roviding  for  the 
existing  exigency  in  the  history  of  the  Church." 

After  the  lioard  had  met  and  api)ointed  Mr.  Helfenstein  to  fill 
the  professorship,  Mr.  Fislier,  as  he  informs  ns.  did  not  give  up  all 


94  AT    ALLEGHENY    FROM    1830-1840  [DiV.  YII 

hope,  und  accordingly  communicated  to  its  members  his  views  and 
feelings  in  regard  to  Dr.  Nevin,  as  a  person  in  all  respects  well 
fitted  to  fill  the  professorship,  in  case  Mr.  Helfenstein  should  not 
accept  the  apiDointment  tendered  him,  and  he  was  gratified  with  a 
hearty  response  from  those  present.  It  was  then  unofficially  agreed 
that  he  should  address  the  Rev.  Dr.  Xevin  on  the  subject,  and  that 
Rev.  Benjamin  S.  Schneck,  Editor  of  the  Weekly  Messenger,  the 
Church  paper  at  the  time,  should  open  a  similar  correspondence 
with  the  Rev.  Dr.  Riddle,  of  Pittsburgh,  an  intimate  friend  of  Dr. 
Nevin.  Mr.  Fisher  was  informed  by  Dr.  Xevin  that  whilst  he 
appreciated  his  motives  and  kind  feelings,  he  must  decline  granting 
him  the  permission,  which  he  had  asked,  of  presenting  him  as  a  can- 
didate to  fill  the  vacancy  at  Mercersbnrg.  One  reason  which  he 
assigned  was  that,  not  being  a  native  of  the  German  Church,  he 
was  afraid  he  would  not  be  able  to  secure  its  confidence  to  such  an 
extent  as  would  be  necessary  to  insure  his  personal  comfort  and 
success  in  the  position,  in  which  it  was  proposed  to  place  him. 
Another  reason  which  he  assigned  was  that  his  resignation  as  pro- 
fessor in  the  Seminary-  at  Alleghen}-  had  been  onl}'  conditional,  and 
as  the  condition  on  which  it  had  been  based  had  been  met,  he  there- 
fore felt  under  obligations  to  remain  where  he  was.  This  was  cal- 
culated to  cool  the  ardor  of  the  young  enthusiast,  but  he  had  foith 
as  well  as  enthusiasm,  and  he  did  not  regard  himself  as  yet  entirely 
discomfited.  Dr.  Riddle  also  could  not  give  his  friend  Mr.  Schneck 
any  encouragement  in  regard  to  the  probalnlities  of  Dr.  Nevin's 
acceptance  of  the  position  in  the  Seminary,  in  case  it  should  be  prof- 
fered to  him.  At  the  same  time  he  freely  admitted  his  peculiar 
qualifications  for  the  position,  adding  that  he  had  "  a  dash  of  tran- 
scendentalism about  him,"  which  could  be  no  very  serious  objection 
to  him  in  a  German  Church. 

The  General  Convention  or  Sj'nod  of  the  Reformed  Church  was 
called  to  meet  at  Chambersburg,  Wednesday,  Januarj^  27,  1840,  to 
consider  the  gravity  of  the  situation,  to  which  all  the  ministers 
within  its  bounds,  one  hundred  and  eighty-one  in  all,  were  invited 
to  attend  with  their  lay  delegates.  The  meeting  was  held  in  mid- 
winter and  the  attendance  was  comparatively  small,  consisting  of 
twenty  ministers  and  seven  elders.  None  appeared  from  the  West, 
none  from  the  South,  and  only  one  from  the  East.  But  the  churches 
in  the  neighborhood  and  in  the  adjacent  parts  of  Maryland  were 
represented  by  men  who  had  come  together  to  do  their  dut}'  in  the 
fear  of  God.  After  two  candidates  had  been  discussed,  the  way 
was  open  for  Mr.  Fisher  to  propose  Dr.  Nevin,  an  outsider,  as  a 


Chap.  X]  a  unanimous  election  95 

candidiitc,  and  he  dwelt  souK-wimt  at  length  upon  his  excellent 
character,  but  more  especially  upon  his  reputation  as  a  professor,  and 
his  knowledije  of  German  theology  and  German  literature.  The 
latter  consideration  was  probably  the  most  potent  argument  in  his 
favor.  Some  thought,  that  if  he  was  such  a  man  as  he  was  repre- 
sented to  be,  the  Presbyterian  Church  would  not  sutler  him  to 
transfer  his  ecclesiastical  relation  to  any  other  denomination,  to 
which  Mr.  Fisher  thus  replied:  "The  remark  may  hold  good  with 
regard  to  most  men.  Dr.  Xevin,  however,  I  regard  as  an  exception 
to  the  general  rule.  If  we  can  satisfy  him  that  it  his  duti/  to  take 
charge  of  the  professorship  at  Merccrslturg,  the  whole  Presbyterian 
Church  eoml)incd  cannot  prevent  him  from  doing  so.  This,  more- 
over, I  think  the  Synod  can  do.  Let  the  call  be  unanimous  and 
earnest,  and  the  path  of  duty  will  be  made  plain  to  him.  Yea,  I 
feel  like  pledging  myself,  if  the  Synod  so  direct,  to  go  to  Pitts- 
burgh with  the  call,  and  not  to  return  Avithout  receiving  assurance 
of  a  positive  answer."  Drs.  Herron,  Riddle,  and  others  acquainted 
with  Dr.  Xevin  at  Pittsburgh  afterwards  expressed  themselves  in 
similar  emphatic  language  in  regard  to  his  strong  sense  of  duty. 

After  the  close  of  the  discussion  respecting  the  merits  of  the  re- 
spective candidates,  the  Synod  knelt  in  solemn  prayer  for  direction 
in  what  was  to  all  present  a  matter  of  transcendent  importance. 
The  names  of  the  other  two  candidates  having  been  withdrawn,  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Xevin  was  unanimously  elected  to  the  vacant  chair  of  the- 
ology. The  Synod  then  again  on  bended  knee  returned  thanks  to 
God  for  the  harmony  which  had  characterized  its  proceedings  in  ar- 
riving at  a  satisfactory  conclusion,  and  earnestly  beseeching  Him  to 
crown  their  present  decision  with  His  blessing,  so  that  it  might  lead 
to  a  happy  issue.  The  call  was  made  out  and  Rev.  13.  S.  Sclineck  and 
Rev.  S.  R.  Fisher  were  api)ointed  a  committee  to  i)resent  the  call 
to  Dr.  X^evin  in  person,  and  to  endeavor  to  prevail  upon  him  to 
accept  of  the  appointment.  Provision  was  also  made  for  his  in- 
stallation at  an  early  day,  in  case  he  should  accept  of  the  solemn 
call. 

The  committee  made  no  delay,  and  on  the  following  Monday 
thej'  were  on  their  way  to  cross  the  Alleghenies  in  extremely  cold 
weather,  partly  "  in  open  sleds  and  partly  on  boards  fastened  on 
the  running  gear  of  a  stage-coach.'"'  The  Rev.  Mr.  Schneck,  the 
senior  of  the  two,  prol)ably  sutfered  most  in  the  crossing  of  the 
mountains,  as  he  had  less  faith  in  the  success  of  the  mission  than 
his  younger  companion,  whose  enthusiasm,  he  confesses,  was  great, 
leadiiig  him  on  by  :ui  irresistible  impulse.     Upon  reaching  the  end 


96  AT    ALLEGHENY    FROM    1830-1810  [I^IV.  YII 

of  their  journey  they  called  upon  Dr.  Herron  first,  and  explained 
to  him  the  object  of  their  mission.  He  was  frank  in  his  replies, 
and  among  other  things  made  the  remark,  "  we  shall  be  loth  to 
part  with  Dr.  Nevin  from  our  Seminary.  We  know,  however,  that 
if  you  can  convince  him,  that  it  is  his  diit}^  to  accept  the  call  from 
your  S3'nod,  it  will  be  impossible  for  us  to  keep  him."  This  was  a 
confirmation  of  a  remark  that  had  been  made  at  Chaml)ersburg. 

The  committee  next  visited  Dr.  Nevin  at  his  residence  over  in 
Allegheny  City.  The  visit  was  entirely  unexpected,  and  the  object 
of  it  took  him  considerably  by  surprise.  In  the  course  of  the  inter- 
view, he  remarked,  that  some  time  after  he  had  written  the  letter 
to  Mr.  Fisher,  declining  to  allow  his  name  to  be  brought  before  the 
Synod,  as  it  appeared  that  the  conditions  on  which  he  had  con- 
sented to  remain  at  Allegheny  Seminary  would  perhaps  not  be  met, 
he  had  prepared  another  letter  addressed  to  him,  in  which  he  had 
authorized  him  to  place  his  name  in  nomination  before  the  Synod, 
in  case  it  should  be  deemed  proper  to  do  so.  But  on  further  re- 
flection he  had  destroyed  that  letter,  deeming  it  most  proper  to 
leave  the  whole  matter  to  the  direction  of  Providence.  This  fact 
added  force  to  the  impression,  which  other  circumstances  seemed 
to  make  upon  his  mind,  that  the  hand  of  Providence  was  in  the 
matter.  The  committee  in  several  interviews  with  him  sought  to 
present  simply  a  candid  statement  of  facts,  as  the}'  thought  it  un- 
wise to  excite  any  expectations  that  might  afterwards  be  found  to 
have  been  unwarranted  in  the  premises.  After  Dr.  Nevin  had 
promised  to  give  the  subject  a  full  and  candid  consideration,  and 
to  make  as  early  a  reply  as  possible,  the  committee  retiirned  to 
their  homes  in  the  East,  leaving  him  to  his  own  meditations  and 
prayers.  They  were  favorably  impressed  with  their  prospects  of 
success  in  the  object  of  their  trip  across  the  mountains  during  the 
bleak  weather  of  January — one  of  the  part}',  of  course,  more  so 
probably  than  the  other. 

On  the  5th  of  March  following.  Dr.  Nevin  addressed  to  Rev.  B. 
S.  Schneck,  the  President  of  the  Synod,  a  letter  signifying  his  will- 
ingness to  accede  to  the  call  of  the  Reformed  Synod  to  become  one 
of  its  theological  professors.  We  give  it  here  in  full  as  an  expres- 
sive and  suggestive  document. 

"  I  am  prepared  to  say  that  I  accept  of  the  call,  put  into  my  hands 
by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Fisher  and  yourself,  by  which  I  have  been  invited, 
on  the  part  of  the  Synod  of  the  Grerman  Reformed  Church,  to  the 
Professorship  of  Theology  in  the  Seminary  at  Mercersburg.  This 
notice  is  communicated  to  you  as  the  President  of  the  Synod  for 


ChAI'.  X]  THE    ACCEPTANCE    OF    THE   CALL  97 

the  present  year.  It  is  my  intention  to  i\[)\)\y  to  the  Presl)yterv  to 
which  I  belonjT,  at  its  rescuhir  meeting  in  April,  with  the  view  of 
imssinir  into  tlie  German  Reformed  Church.  I  shall  be  ready  after- 
wards, with  divine  permission,  to  enter  on  m^'  new  office  about  the 
beginning  of  June. 

"Allow  me,  through  you,  to  express  to  the  German  Reformed 
Svnod  my  high  sense  of  the  honor  they  have  conferred  upon  me, 
in  thus  electing  me,  with  one  heart  and  one  voice,  to  a  station  so 
important  and  responsible.  My  inmost  prayer  is  that  I  may  not 
be  found  in  the  end  luiworthy  altogether  of  such  confidence. 

"  At  the  same  time  I  must  say  I  have  found  gi-eat  difficnlty  in 
making  up  my  mind  to  accept  the  appointment.  The  question  has 
seemed  to  involve  the  main  crisis  of  my  ministry  at  least,  if  not  of 
my  life.  I  have  found  much  around  me  and  much  within  me  to 
resist  the  call.  Other  ties  and  claims,  ecclesiastical  and  social, 
have  pleaded  against  it  strongly  in  my  si)irit.  The  greatness  of  the 
trust, and  the  difficulties  that  must  be  connected  with  it,  have  alarmed 
me.  The  idea  of  passing  into  ncAv  and  untried  relations,  the  fear 
of  disappointing  just  expectations,  vague  apprehensions  of  collis- 
ions in  the  midst  of  the  new  order  of  things,  the  new  moral  system, 
with  which  I  must  find  myself  surrounded  on  entering  into  the 
German  communion,  have  all  contrilnited  to  invest  the  step  with  a 
painfully  solemn  interest  to  my  feelings,  and  to  hold  my  thoughts 
in  anxious  suspense  in  regard  to  listening  to  such  a  call. 

"  But  the  difficulties  have  been  made,  in  the  end,  to  yield  to  the 
persuasion  that  I  am  called  of  God  to  go  to  Mercersburg.  The  in- 
dications of  His  will,  in  the  case,  have  seemed  to  be  too  clear  and 
striking  to  be  misinterpreted  or  disregarded.  In  view  of  all  the 
circumstances,  therefore,  I  have  felt  that  it  is  my  duty  to  obey  the 
voice  of  your  Synod.  I  drive  not,  for  the  sake  of  my  own  peace, 
turn  away  my  ears  from  the  application.  The  field  is  im- 
mensely important,  and  at  the  same  time  full  of  promise.  The 
necessity  is  great.  The  time  is  critical.  The  call  has  been  strange 
and  nnexi)ected  ;  not  oidy  without  my  seeking,  but  nf/nin.^f  my  own 
judgment  and  wish  explicitly  expressed  and  understood.  It  is  the 
unanimous  and  hearty  call,  as  it  would  seem,  of  the  whole  Church. 

"  My  own  training  might  appear  to  have  been  providentially  or- 
dered by  Him,  who  leadeth  the  blind  in  a  wa}'  not  understood  by 
themselves,  with  special  reference  to  this  very  destination.  Though 
not  a  German  by  l)irth,  I  feel  a  sort  of  kindred  interest  in  that 
people,  which  could  hardly  be  stronger  were  I  one  of  themselves. 
My  childhood  and  cai'ly  youth  wei'e  spent  in  close  familiar  conimun- 


98  AT    ALLEGHENY    FROM    1830-1840  [DiV.  YII 

ion  with  German  manners  and  modes  of  thouglit.  I  nnderstand 
the  people  well.  In  later  life  my  attention  has  been  turned  to  their 
Language  and  Literature.  These  have  awakened  in  me  a  new  in- 
terest in  their  ftivor,  and  brought  me  into  more  extensive  fellow- 
ship with  the  peculiarities  of  the  national  mind.  All  this  enters  as 
an  element  into  the  constitution  of  the  call  by  which  I  find  myself 
bound  to  go  into  your  Church.  The  whole  ease  is  strengthened  by 
the  fact  that  others  whose  judgment  I  ought  to  respect  so  generally 
admit  the  weight  of  the  considerations  by  which  I  am  urged  to  this 
step.  Even  those  who  seem  most  desirous  that  I  should  stay 
where  I  am,  would  shrink,  I  imagine,  from  the  responsibility  of  ex- 
excising  a  veto  in  the  case,  if  it  were  altogether  in  their  hands;  and 
it  is  my  confident  hope,  that  the  step  I  am  about  to  take,  in  quitting 
my  Church  for  ^^ours,  will  commend  itself  to  others  as  well  as  1113-- 
self  in  such  a  wa}^  that  all  will  consider  it  right  in  the  end. 

"  Thus  do  I  find  myself  constrained  to  go  into  the  German  Re- 
formed Church.  Let  it  not  be  thought,  however,  that  I  go  reluc- 
tantly or  coldl}'  into  her  communion,  now  that  the  duty  is  settled. 
I  go,  indeed,  with  fear  and  trembling;  but  I  cany  along  with  me 
my  entire  will.  I  give  myself  wholly  to  the  German  Reformed 
Church,  and  find  no  difficulty  in  making  her  interests  m}"  own.  No 
Church  can  boast  of  a  better  creed,  or  a  better  ecclesiastical  frame- 
work. Her  fathers  rank  high  in  the  history  of  the  Reformation, 
The  spirit  of  a  time-hallowed  faith,  such  as  could  once  make  mar- 
tyrs, older  than  the  Presbyterianism  of  Scotland, is  still  enshrined  in 
her  articles  and  forms,  and  the  German  Church  in  this  country  has 
become  a  rising  interest.  No  section  of  our  American  Zion  is  more 
important.  None  embraces  vaster  resources  of  power  in  propor- 
tion to  its  limits.  None  exhibits  a  richer  intellectual  ore,  available 
in  the  same  way  for  the  purpose  of  religion  I  find  no  lack  of  con- 
siderations here  to  enlist  vccy  sympathies  or  to  stimulate  my  zeal. 
I  can  go  heartily  into  such  a  church,  and  in  this  spirit  I  now  accept 
of  the  call  of  your  Synod  to  the  Professorship  at  Mercersburg." 

This  was  straightforward  language,  which,  addressed  to  a  Ger- 
man audience,  was  easily  understood.  It  showed  that  the  man  was 
in  deep  earnest  al)out  the  matter ;  that  he  came  to  labor  for  the 
Reformed  Church  in  all  its  interests  no  less  than  in  the  professor's 
chair;  and  that  his  zeal  and  enthusiasm  were  already  deepl}'^  en- 
listed. Just  such  a  person  was  needed  at  the  time  in  the  peculiar 
circumstances  of  the  German  Church  in  this  country — a  steady 
helmsman  who  could  speak  out,  and  was  willing  to  do  his  part  in 
guiding  the  vessel  through   storms  as  well  as  through  sunshine. 


Chap.  X]  the  acceptance  of  the  call  99 

But  here  there  was  simply  a  i)roinise.  Would  it  lie  fullilled  ?  That 
was  to  be  left  for  the  future  to  decide.  Our  plain  German  people 
Itelieved  that  Mr.  Xevin,  as  he  was  called,  intended  to  do  what  he 
said.  Hard  working  pastors  intuitively  felt  that  a  tower  of  strength 
had  risen  np  among  them,  against  which  they  could  lean  in  their 
trials.  Here  were  brave  words  that  came  from  the  heart  and  Avcnt 
to  the  heart.  With  such  a  beginning  mutual  confidence  and  esteem 
were  sure  to  grow  out  of  the  new  relation  which  was  about  to  be 
formed.  Xot  long  after  this  letter  was  sent  to  the  President  of 
the  Synod,  Dr.  Nevin  with  his  tamily  were  on  their  way  to  Mer- 
cersburg.  The  change  of  atmosphere  was-  an  agreeable  one,  and 
he  must  have  felt  at  home  on  his  return  to  the  Cumberland  Valley, 
witli  the  North  and  South  Mountains  once  more  lioundiug  the 
horizon,  now  more  pleasing  to  the  eye  than  ever  before.  On  his 
Avay  he  stayed  over  night  at  Chambersburg,  where  he  met  with  a 
kind  and  alfectionate  recci)tiou. 


VIII -AT  MERCERSBURG  FROM  1840-1844 

^t.  37-41 


CHAPTER  XI 


DK.  XEYIX  moved  with  his  family  to  Mercersburg  in  the 
spring  of  1840, and  here  for  the  first  time  he  met  Dr.  Frederick 
Augustus  Eauch,  President  of  Marshall  College,  and  his  future 
colleague  in  the  Seminary,  whose  guest  he  became  until  more  per- 
manent arrangements  could  be  made  for  the  accommodation  of 
himself  and  family.  It  is  quite  natural  to  suppose  that  they  were 
mutually  anxious  not  only  to  become  acquainted  with  each  other, 
but  to  look  into  each  other,  and  ascertain  where  each  one  stood  in 
the  world  of  ideas.  The3^  were  still  less  than  forty  ^^ears  of  age, 
and  3-et,with  the  lines  of  thought  and  hard  study  deeply  marked  on 
their  brows,  they  seemed  to  be  much  older.  The  one  was  a  Scot- 
tish man,  dignified,  sedate  and  apparently  unemotional;  the  other 
was  a  pure  German,  full  of  life,  whose  enthusiasm,  emotions  and 
thoughts  manifested  themselves  externall}^  on  his  countenance. 
How  could  two  such  men,  so  differently  constituted,  be  able  to  work 
together  in  the  same  institution  of  learning  ?  It  was  not  long 
before  this  question  answered  itself.  They  were  both  wise  men, 
spiritually-minded,  who  looked  at  the  substance  of  things,  lived  in 
the  region  of  ideas,  and  were  earnestl}^  concerned  that  thought  or 
truth  should  rule  practically  in  the  world.  They  had  come  from 
different  races,  but  possessed  the  same  Teutonic  blood  in  their  con- 
stitutions. The  Scotchman  and  the  German  exhibit  marked  points 
of  divergence  externally,  but  upon  a  deeper  acquaintance,  they  soon 
come  to  feel  that  internally  they  have  the  same  common  life — that 
they  are  cousins-german.  And  thus  it  was  with  Dr.  Nevin  and  Dr. 
Ranch.  The  former  gives  his  first  impressions  of  the  latter  in  the 
beautiful  Eulogy  on  his  Life  and  Character,  which  he  delivered 
less  than  a  year  after  their  first  acquaintance. 

"It  is  now  just  one  year,  since  I  had  the  privilege  of  becoming 
acquainted  with  him  personally.  I  had  some  knowledge  of  his  gen- 
eral standing  previousl}-,  but  no  particular  information  with  regard 
to  his  character  and  spirit.     Intimatel}-  associated  as  I  was  to  be 

(100) 


Chap.  XI]  first  impressions  ob'  dr.  raucii  lUl 

with  iiiin  ill  professional  life,  I  had  of  course  felt  some  anxiety  in 
relation  to  this  point ;  a  feeling  which  seemed  to  have  so  much 
the  more  reason,  as  it  was  understood  that  serious  dilliculties  had 
already  actually  occurred  in  the  official  connections  of  *Dr.  Ranch, 
in  the  case  of  which  a  large  share  of  the  blame  was  supposed  by 
many  to  rest  properly  on  his  shoulders.  All  anxiety  of  this  sort, 
however,  tied  my  spirit,  in  a  veiy  short  time,  Avheii  I  came  to 
know  the  man  himself.  I  found  m3'self  attracted  to  him  from  the 
very  first.  Ilis  countenance  was  the  index  of  his  heart,  open,  gen- 
erous and  pure.  I  soon  felt  that  my  relations  with  him  were  likely 
to  be  both  pleasant  and  safe.  Farther  acquaintance  only  served  to 
strengthen  this  first  imi)ression.  It  was  clear  to  me  that  he  had 
been  misunderstood  and  wrongied.  He  was  one  of  the  last  men 
probabl}'  to  be  capable  of  disingenuous  cunning  or  dishonorable 
dealing  in  any  way.  Then  1  perceived  verj'  soon,  also,  that  his 
learning  and  intellectual  strength  w'ere  of  a  higher  order  altogether 
than  I  had  felt  myself  authorized  to  expect,  though  it  was  not  un- 
til the  appearance  of  his  '  Psjcholog}- '  that  I  learned  to  place  him 
sutlicienth'  high  in  this  respect. 

"  Here  again  it  became  clear  to  me  that  the  proper  worth  of  the 
man  had  not  been  understood ;  and  I  could  not  but  look  on  it  as  a 
strange  but  interesting  phenomenon  that  here,  at  the  head  of  this 
infant  college,  without  care,  or  calculation,  or  consciousness,  even 
on  the  part  of  its  friends  generally,  one  of  the  finest  minds  of  Ger- 
many should  have  been  settled,  which  under  other  circumstances 
might  well  have  been  counted  an  ornament  to  the  oldest  and  most 
conspicuous  institution  in  the  land.  This  seemed  to  show,  indeed, 
a  special  favor  on  the  part  of  Heaven  towards  the  whole  interest, 
which  this  enterprise  may  lie  considered  to  involve.  Xo  selection 
could  have  secured  prol»nl)ly  a  fitter  man  for  the  station  he  was 
called  to  occup}', taking  all  the  circumstances  and  connections  into 
view.  My  own  calculations  at  least,  Avith  regard  to  him,  were  large 
and  full  of  confidence ;  not  onl^'  as  it  respected  the  College,  but  in 
view  of  the  general  infiuence  he  seemed  likely  to  acquire  as  a 
scholar  and  a  writer." 

Previous  to  this  time,  Dr.  Nevin  had  paid  considerable  attention 
to  (Jerinan  Literature  and,  as  he  informs  us,  had  derived  much  edifi- 
cation from  (ierman  authors,  especially  from  the  writings  of 
Xeaiider;  but  now  he  was  confronted  with  a  German  scholar  of 
great  ability,  who  could  tell  him  all  about  German  Theology  and 
Philosophy,  in  their  best  and  worst  aspects;  and  knew  jirecisel^" 
where  its  most  distinuuished   authors   stood.     This   was  worth  to 


102  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1810-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

hiiu  at  that  time  more  than  a  library  of  their  best  works,  or  a  pro- 
longed visit  to  Germany  itself.  It  helped  very  materially  to 
strengthen  him  in  his  wish  to  avail  himself  of  the  treasnres  of  Ger- 
man thought  and  learning.  It  was  the  spring  vacation,  and  the 
conversations  were  frequent  and  protracted,  some  of  which  were 
overheard.  Once  the  subject  was  Greek  Grammar,  during  which 
Dr.  Xevin  was  shown  an  edition  of  Kuehner's  Greek  Grammar, 
then  comparatively  unknown  in  this  country.  After  examining  it 
carefully-,  he  was  so  struck  with  its  able  treatment  of  the  subject 
and  its  philosophical  spirit,  that  he  at  once  concluded  to  translate 
it  for  the  benefit  of  American  scholars.  After  having  translated 
some  portions  of  it,  he  learned  that  he  had  been  anticipated  and 
that  soon  one  translation  of  it  was  to  appear  in  England  and  another 
in  this  country. 

Whilst,  however.  Dr.  Xevin  was  thus  well  pleased  with  his  new 
colleague.  Dr.  Ranch,  on  the  other  hand,  was  in  fact  delighted,  his 
pleasure  amounting  to  an  enthusiastic  sui'prise,  and  he  so  expressed 
himself  to  the  students  as  opportunities  presented  themselves. 
Judging  from  his  German  stand-point  he  had  met  with  considerable 
superficiality  among  American  scholars,  whose  performances  on 
public  platforms  seemed  to  have  more  sound  than  substance  in  them. 
But  here  in  a  very  quiet  man,  less  known  than  many  others  who 
possessed  less  abilit}',  he  met  with  an  earnest  and  profound  thinker, 
one  who,  in  his  opinion,  had  no  superior  in  the  country.  He  listened 
with  close  attention  to  his  discourses  on  Sunday,  reminded  the 
students  of  their  contents  in  the  class-room  on  Monda}',  and  as  his 
health  was  not  firm,  he  expressed  the  wish  that  his  new  colleague 
for  the  future  should  take  his  place  in  the  pulpit  regularh' ;  because 
he  regarded  it  as  a  rare  treat  to  listen  to  him  himself,  and  wished 
the  students  to  hear  him  as  often  as  possible. 

He  was  still  a  German;  and,  whilst  his  sympathies  were  in  full 
flow  with  our  free  institutions,  there  was  much  in  our  American  life 
that  was  to  him  contradictor}^  if  not  absurd,  which, in  some  degree, 
was  no  doubt  the  truth.  This  had  often  made  him  feel  uncomfort- 
able ;  but  now  he  was  1)y  the  side  of  one  who  could  give  him  cor- 
rect ideas  of  American  life,  of  its  bright  as  well  as  its  dark  side,  and 
of  its  intenselj'  earnest,  practical  tendencies  in  favor  of  religion 
and  morality.  He  moreover  saw  that  the  accession  of  a  practical 
as  well  as  profound  professor  to  the  institutions,  with  which  he  had 
identified  his  life,  would  inure  vastly  to  their  benefit.  To  a  friend 
he  made  the  remark,  that  now  with  Dr.  Nevin  by  his  side,  he  "  was 
able  to  breathe  freel}^  for  the  first  time  in  America."     The  union  of 


ClIAP.  XI]  RAUCn's   PSYCHOLOGY  103 

two  such  nu'ii  auuured  well  for  the  future,  Loth  for  their  own  com- 
fort and  happiness,  as  well  as  for  the  prosperity  of  the  Church  an<l 
the  cause  of  Christ  generally. 

Soon  after  this  first  acquaintance  thus  happily  formed,  Dr. 
Ranch's  '■"  Psych oJ any,  or  View  of  the  Human  Soul,  including  An- 
thropoloyy,'''  published  by  Mr.  Dodd,  of  Xew  York,  made  its  ap- 
pearance. It  helped,  very  materially,  to  confirm  Dr.  Xevin's  favor- 
able  impressions  of  its  author.  It  was  well  received  and  favorably 
noticed  in  the  reviews  of  the  day  generall}'.  Dr.  Orestes  Brown- 
son,  of  Boston,  a  very  able  but  eccentric  critic,  comparing  it  with 
some  other  works  on  the  same  subject,  recentl}'  published,  pro- 
nounced it  decidedly  to  be  "  a  work  of  genius."  It  was  at  once  in- 
troduced into  the  Universit}'  of  Vermont,  as  a  text  book,  by  Pro- 
fessor Marsh,  a  diligent  student  of  German  literature  and  philoso- 
phy; and  not  long  after  into  Darthmouth  College  and  other  insti- 
tutions. One  of  the  most  discriminating  and  liberal  notices  of  the 
work  came  from  the  Princeton  Review,  which  commended  it  in 
highh'  complimentary  terms. 

"We  are  so  much  accustomed,"  sa3s  the  reviewer,  "to  get  our 
German  Philosophy  at  second-hand,  that  it  is  a  refreshing  novelt}-, 
to  have  an  entirel}^  original  work  on  the  subject,  written  in  our 
own  language.  We  have  had  German  translations,  which,  from  the 
inadequacy  of  our  own  terminology  to  reproduce  the  original, 
have  been  either  unintelligible  or  barbarous,  if  not  both  together. 
We  have  had  German  Philosophy  filtered  through  the  French  and 
American  burlesques  of  the  continental  masters,  in  which  the  un- 
intelligible has  been  made  to  pass  for  the  profound.  And  last  and 
lowest  of  all,  we  have  had  a  train  of  admiring  disciples  of  Carlyle 
and  Emerson,  who  have  no  claim  to  rank  among  philosophers  at 
all,  and  who  by  affecting  to  talk  nonsense  in  '  King  Camb3-ses' 
vein,'  have  persuaded  some  that  they  were  talking  philosophy. 
We  owe  an  apology'  to  President  Ranch  for  mentioning  his  name  in 
such  connection,  and  it  is  only  in  the  way  of  contrast  that  we  do 
it.  Let  it  suffice  here  to  say,  that  we  opened  the  work  with  sincere 
respect  for  the  author,  and  that  we  laid  it  down  with  increased  re- 
gard for  his  learning,  taste  and  piety. 

"  In  the  very  outset  of  our  remarks,  let  us  be  clearl}-  understood 
as  placing  Dr.  Ranch  in  a  very  diflferent  class  from  the  metaphysi- 
cians with  whom  we  have  had  occasion  to  deal.  He  is  no  comi)iler, 
retailer,  or  sciolist ;  he  affects  no  inaccessible  heights  of  mystical 
dictum  ;  even  where  a  Transcendentalist,  he  is  not  such  a  one  as 
would  please  the  admirers  of  Spinosa  or  Hegel. 


104  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1810-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

"  We  see  such  a  gulf  between  the  idea  of  a  God  eternal,  unchange- 
able, all-wise,  all-good,  simple,  immense,  and  jyersonal  and  that  of 
an  eternal,  impersonal  character,  ever  straining  after  self-conscious- 
ness, that  we  can  conceive  of  no  two  systems  more  destructive  of 
one  another.  The  difference  between  Deism  and  Christianity  be- 
ing trifling  in  comparison.  Of  this  godless  philosophy  we  see  no 
traces  in  this  work.  We  rejoice  to  see  for  once  a  work  on  Philosoph}' 
in  which  we  find  the  name  of  Christ,  and  in  which  we  recognize  the 
fallen  state  of  man,  the  need  of  regeneration  and  the  influence  of 
the  Holy  Spirit. 

"  But  when  the  author  conducts  us  into  the  department  of  Fancy, 
as  a  nobler  sort  of  conception,  we  feel  at  once  the  strangeness  of 
his  representations  and  the  affinity  of  the  subject  with  his  own 
genius.  He  abounds  in  illustrations  drawn  from  the  ancient  re- 
mains of  Poetry,  Sculpture,  Painting  and  Architecture.  They  are 
gracefully  strewed  through  the  whole  course,  and  are  never  inappro- 
priate or  far-fetched.  In  no  work  have  we  CA'er  seen  so  copious  an 
illustration  of  Psychology  from  the  stores  of  ancient  histor}'  and 
the  drama. 

"The  author  considers  Imagination  as  the  activity  of  the  mind, 
which,  with  freedom  and  care,  unites  different  images,  or  creates  new 
ones  from  materials  furnished  from  sensations  and  conceptions  ; 
and  further,  as  giving  to  the  new  images  contents  which  did  not  orig- 
inally' belong  to  them.  And  it  is  here  in  our  judgment  that  Dr. 
Ranch  is  most  at  home.  It  is  imagination  in  its  high  import  which 
predominates  in  the  development  of  his  mind,  and  when  we  are 
most  satisfied,  it  is  the  elegant  scholar,  the  tasteful  critic,  the  philo- 
sophical guide  to  the  interior  of  Art  rather  than  the  constructive 
philosopher,  whom  we  recognize  and  admire.  He  hangs  garlands  on 
the  cold  marble  of  the  Porch  and  Lyceum,  and  makes  us  wish  that 
he  would  give  free  scope  to  his  talent  for  aesthetic  composition. 
On  these  topics  the  brilliancy  and  exuberance  of  the  examples  and 
comparisons  remind  us  more  of  Goethe,  Winckelmahn  and  Schiller 
than  of  the  consequential  spinners  of  the  metaphysic  web." — See 
Biblical  Repertory  and  Princeton  Review,  July  No.,  1840. 

This  criticism  from  the  Princeton  stand-point  was  just,  generous, 
and  discriminating.  It  admitted  that  a  "  Transcendentalist " — a 
term  in  bad  odor  at  Princeton  as  well  as  elsewhere  in  this  countr}' 
at  the  time — did  not  necessarily  mean  a  pantheist  or  infidel,  having 
no  faith  in  a  divine  revelation.  It  can,  like  many  other  words,  be 
used  in  a  Christian  as  well  as  a  pantheistic  sense.  Dr.  Murdock, 
of  Xew  Haven,  therefore,  strangel}'  overlooked  this  distinction  in  a 


Chap.  XI]  rauch's  psyceiology  105 

small  work  on  Modern  Philosophy,  published  in  1843,  where  devo- 
ting a  chapter  to  the  Philosophy  of  Dr.  Ranch,  he  calls  him  "a  Pan- 
theist as  Avell  as  a  Transcendentalist,"  and  seems  to  exi)ress  some 
doul)t  whetlier  he  was  a  believer  in  any  sj^ecial  revelation  from  God. 
It  would  be  just  as  fair  to  insinuate  that  Dr.  Murdock  had  adopted 
all  the  excesses  of  the  empirical  philosophy,  to  which  he  was  wedded, 
with  its  gross  materialism  and  agnosticism. 

Dr.  Xevin,  as  a  matter  of  course,  gave  the  new  work  on  mental 
philosoph}'  his  careful  examination,  the  result  of  which  was,  as  he 
pleasantly  remarked,  to  place  the  author  still  higher  in  his  estima- 
tion as  a  man  of  learning  than  he  had  done  when  he  first  met  him, 
although,  as  we  have  seen,  his  first  impressions  had  gone  beyond 
anything  that  he  had  previously  felt  himself  authorized  to  expect. 
His  review  of  the  book,  in  the  ^lesscnge?-,  was  cautious,  but  favor- 
able and  highly  commendator3\  He  had  come  to  Mercersburg  with 
idealistic,  platonizing  tendencies,  and  as  one  of  his  clerical  friends 
said,  with  a  tendency,  at  least,  towards  Transcendentalism,  and 
this  new  work  met  with  a  ready  response  in  his  inward  spiritual 
nature.  Subsequent!}-  he  studied  it  more  profoundly-,  using  it  for 
many  years  as  a  text-book  in  the  College;  and  it  is  entirel}-  safe 
to  saj-,  that  it  exerted  a  potent  influence  in  giving  form  to  his  sub- 
sequent philosophical  thinking  and  doctrines.  It  was  to  him  a 
starting  point,  and  more  or  less  a  standing  point,  from  which  a  new 
world  of  thought  grew  forth  and  expanded  in  his  mind,  which,  if 
occasioned  b}-  contact  with  the  mind  of  Ranch,  became  peculiarl}- 
his  own.  All  the  circumstances  connected  with  the  appearance  of 
the  book,  no  less  than  its  spirit,  purpose,  and  st^-le,  were  calculated 
to  commend  it  to  his  attention,  and  to  give  his  thoughts  a  new  and 
wholesome  direction. 

"  The  author,"  he  says  in  his  review,  "  is  a  German,  thoroughly 
trained  in  the  literature  and  philosophy  of  the  Fatherland.  The 
peculiar,  characteristic  world  of  thought  which  prevails  there,  is 
the  original  and  native  home  of  his  spirit.  At  the  same  time,  he 
has  lived  long  enough  in  this  country  to  make  himself  familiar 
with  its  language,  and  to  put  himself  fully  in  possession  of  the 
mind  which  this  language  embodies.  Under  these  circumstances 
he  is  not  a  mere  German  in  his  views.  The  Scotch-English  system 
of  thinking,  and  of  philosophy  also,  has  grown  to  be  familiar 
ground  to  his  mind,  and  as  a  consequence  he  is  prepared,  as  his 
work  shows,  to  yield  to  it  a  fair  share  of  respect  in  his  metaphys- 
ical speculations.  Here  is  a  position  which  must  ensure,  at  all 
events,  an  oriyinal  work,  a  position  new  at  least  as  compared  with 
7 


106  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

anj'  from  which  observations  have  been  made  previously  in  this 
country.  Such  a  worlf ,  too,  may  be  expected  to  answer  a  most 
important  purpose  in  counteracting  and  correcting  the  one-sided- 
ness  of  both  those  antagonistic  tendencies  of  the  times,  already 
mentioned,  and  reconciling  and  bringing  together  what  there  may  be 
in  them  separately  of  truth  and  right. 

"  That  some  such  marriage  as  this  might  be  effected  between 
these  different  forms  of  thought,  b^-  bringing  the  German  and 
Scotch  vsystems  of  philosophy  to  rest  upon  a  common  ground, 
would  seem  to  have  been  before  the  mind  of  President  Ranch  in 
his  present  work.  It  is,  at  all  events,  as  he  himself  informs  us,  an 
attempt  to  unite  the  metaphysics  of  Germany  and  of  this  country. 
The  object  of  the  work  has  been  to  reduce  both  to  one  organic  form, 
that  should  embody  the  life  of  each  in  a  single  nature.  This  could  be 
done,  of  course,  only  by  ascertaining  the  truth  itself.  No  other  sol- 
vent could  be  considered  sufficient  in  such  a  case,  to  subdue  and  re- 
concile the  opposing  forces  which  were  to  be  subjected  to  its  action. 

"  The  system  of  Dr.  Ranch  then  is  not  German  transcendent- 
alism in  the  objectionable  sense  of  that  term.  Because  a  certain 
general  form  of  philosophy  has  run  out  into  pantheism  in  certain 
cases,  must  it  be  assumed  at  once  that  it  can  have  no  safer  devel- 
opment in  other  hands  ?  Or,  will  it  follow  that  all  the  serious  and 
deep  thinkers  of  Germany  are  in  like  manner  involved  in  sheer 
mysticism,  or  at  least  incapable  of  perceiving  and  following  out 
their  own  schemes  of  thought  ?  Such  an  idea  must  appear  to  any 
sound  judgment  illogical  in  the  extreme.  Let  us  have  a  clear  un- 
derstanding of  what  we  mean  by  transcendentalism,  before  we  al- 
low ourselves  to  make  such  sweeping  conclusions  on  the  strength 
of  the  simple  word.  When  all  this  shall  be  done,  no  room  cer- 
tainly can  be  left  for  applying  it  in  the  way  of  reproach  to  the 
'work  now  before  us.  Dr.  Ranch  does  not  leave  the  world  behind 
him  to  expatiate  among  the  clouds.  He  deals  with  man  as  he  finds 
him  in  common  life.  He  has  no  sympathy  with  speculations  that 
aim  to  lift  the  mind  as  their  subject  out  of  its  true  and  proper 
sphere,  and  so  to  trench  in  the  end  on  the  personality  as  well  as  the 
moral  relation  of  men^  subverting  the  ver}'  foundiition  of  religion. 
The  groundwork  of  his  system  is  substantially  the  same,  indeed, 
that  is  generalh'  recognized  in  the  school  of  Locke.  All  is  made 
to  rest  ultimately  on  the  sensuous  life.  It  is  l)y  means  of  the 
bodily  senses  only — serving  as  occasions — that  the  soul  sprouts, 
and  begins  its  mysterious  way  towards  the  ethereal  form  of  per- 
.fection,  which  it  is  found,  in  the  end,  to  assume. 


CiiAP.  XI]  rauch's  psychology  107 

"On  the  other  hand,  the  Ps3'chology  of  Dr.  Ranch  is  not,  l)y  an^- 
means,  in  the  characteristic  spirit  of  the  Scotch-English  philosophy-, 
as  this  is  ordinarily  distingnished  from  the  German.  Here  is  no 
transition  formally  made  from  one  camp  over  into  the  other.  The 
treatise  does  not  coincide  in  its  general  line  with  the  works  of 
Locke,  or  Reid,  or  Brown,  as  these,  notwithstanding  all  their  differ- 
ences, are  found  to  coincide  with  one  another.  It  ditfei's  from  them 
not  speciflcall}'  only,  but  generically  also.  After  all,  the  predomi- 
nant spirit  in  it  is  German.  The  i)hilosophy  is  spiritual  more  than 
sensuous.  It  looks  to  the  real  more  than  the  phenomenal.  It 
strives  to  penetrate  the  life  of  its  subject,  rather  than  to  dissect  it 
anatomicallv  Avhen  it  is  dead.  Some  may  find  an  odor  of  tran- 
scendentalism in  it  on  this  very  account.  But  to  such  persons  any- 
thing is  likely  to  i)rove  transcendental  that  carries  them  out  of  their 
common  track  of  thought.  So  far  as  this  particular  style  of  deal- 
ing with  Psychology  is  concerned,  the  transcendentalism  of  Ger- 
man}' will  do  us  no  harm." 

As  said  above,  the  philosophy  of  Dr.  Ranch  looked  to  the  real 
more  than  to  the  phenomenal — to  what  Plato  called  the  substance 
of  things,  which  addresses  the  spiritual  nature  of  man  in  distinction 
from  appearances,  which  impress  niereh'  the  external  senses.  In 
this  respect  it  fell  in  fully  with  the  uprising  of  Germany  under 
Schelling,  Ilegel  and  others  in  opposition  to  the  empirical  philoso- 
phy of  Locke — to  some  extent  favored  by  Kant — and  rent  asunder 
the  chasm  which  restricted  the  area  of  human  knowledge.  For 
this  reason  the  new  phase  of  philosophy  was  not  improperly  said 
to  be  transcendental,  when  it  once  came  to  transcend  the  pent-up- 
utica  of  skepticism  and  emerged  from  the  dark  shades  of  agnosti- 
cism. For  further  information  regarding  Dr.  Ranch's  philosophy, 
the  reader  is  respectfully  referred  to  the  chapters  on  Ranch's 
Christian  Ethics,  ^Esthetics, and  Philosophy  in  general,  in  "  College 
Recollections  at  Mercersburg  from  1839-1845,"  published  by  the 
author  of  this  volume  in  188G. 


CHAPTER  XII 

AT  the  opening  of  the  Summer  Session  of  the  College  and  Semi- 
-^-J^  naiy,  on  the  20th  of  May,  Dr.  Nevin  was  inducted  into  oflHce 
as  Professor  of  Theology,  on  which  occasion  he  delivered  an  Inau- 
gural Address,  which  was  afterwards  published  and  extensively  read 
in  the  churches.  It  made  a  profound  impression  at  the  time,  Loth 
on  account  of  the  striking  views  which  it  expressed,  and  because  it 
served  as  a  mirror  clearlj^  reflecting  the  image  of  the  man  who  was 
to  be  a  future  leader  in  Israel.  It  gave  general  satisfaction  and  re- 
vived the  coiirage  and  faith  of  those  who  had  struggled  long  and 
labored  hard,  in  the  midst  of  many  difficulties,  to  establish  a  School 
of  the  Prophets,  which  was  to  supply  the  destitute  portion  of  the 
German  Church  with  ministers.  Some  had  their  doubts  whether 
such  a  small  denomination  as  the  Reformed  would  ever  come  to 
anything,  and  some  intelligent  persons — on  the  outside — perhaps, 
thought  that,  as  the  new  professor  became  master  of  the  situation, 
he  might  and  should  bring  it  into  that  household  of  faith  in  which 
he  had  been  l)orn  and  educated.  The  address  was  straightforward 
and  shattered  at  once  all  such  imaginations.  It  was  full  of  con- 
fidence and  faith,  and  this  first  voice  from  Mercersburg  was  a  vig- 
orous appeal  to  ministers  and  members  alike  to  arise  and  build  u}) 
the  broken  down  walls  of  Zion,  to  stand  fast  in  their  places,  and  to 
do  the  work  which  Providence  had  assigned  them  in  a  distinct  his- 
torical Anglo-German  Church. 

After  giving  expression  to  his  own  sense  of  the  dignit}"  and  sig- 
nificance of  the  Christian  ministry  in  the  way  of  introduction,  the 
speaker  dwelt  at  greater  length  on  the  mission  of  the  German  Re- 
formed Church,  as  it  was  then  called,  in  connection  with  the  enter- 
prise of  Synod  in  establishing  for  its  necessities  a  Seminary  and  a 
College.  On  both  of  these  topics  the  reader  is  presented  with  a 
few  of  the  more  salient  thoughts,  forcibly  and  beautifully  expressed. 

"  The  institution  of  the  Christian  Ministry^''''  said  the  professor 
in  the  vigor  of  manhood,  but  with  all  the  gravity  and  earnestness 
©f  a  sage,  "  stands  foremost  in  point  of  importance,  among  all  the 
arrangements  on  which  the  welfiare  of  life,  in  its  proper  civilized 
form,  is  found  to  depend.  No  other  enters  so  deeply  and  steadily 
into  the  inward  moral  econom}^  of  society ;  none  links  itself  more 
vitally  with  all  the  radical  interests  of  the  individual  and  all  the 
primar}'  necessities  of  the  State. 

(108) 


ClIAP.  XII]  THE    CHRISTIAN    MINISTRY  109 

"A'iewed  siinplv  ns  ii  luiinjin  or  worldly  arrangt'ineut,  apiirt  from 
its  higher  purposes  and  aspects  altogether,  it  ma^^  well  be  considered 
the  most  important  form  of  power  that  has  ever  been  brought  to 
bear  on  the  human  mind.  What  agency  can  be  imagined  more  fully 
adapted  to  produce  etfect  than  one  which  thus  spreads  itself  out 
through  the  social  mass,  and  renews  itself  incessantly  from  week 
to  week,  in  the  same  direction  and  under  the  same  general  form  ? 

"  The  agency  of  the  pulpit,  under  this  view,  is  of  more  might  by  ^ 
far  than  the  agenc}^  of  the  Senate  chamber.  The  pastoral  office, 
distilling  its  influence  like  gently  falling  dew  or  rain,  in  just  those 
circumstances  which  are  best  adapted  to  open  a  Avay  for  it  to  the 
secret  fountains  of  thought  and  feeling,  is  an  institution  whose 
operations  will  be  found  in  the  end  to  go  deeper  and  to  reach 
farther  than  the  policy  and  state  machinery  of  Cabinets  can  ever  do. 

"  The  man,  who  stands  up  before  a  congregation  from  week  to 
week  as  the  authorized  expounder  of  truth  and  duty,  can  never  fail 
in  the  end  to  leave  the  image  of  what  he  is  himself,  more  or  less 
full}-  impressed  on  all  that  come  under  the  sound  of  his  voice.  His 
l)eople,  especiall}'  those  of  them  who  have  grown  up  under  his  min- 
istrations from  childhood  or  early  youth,  catch  something  even  of 
his  external  manner.  The  tones  and  the  inflections  of  his  voice 
become  in  some  measure  theirs.  His  whole  appearance  and  deport- 
ment, especially  in  the  pulpit,  work  in  this  way  educationally  on 
the  minds  of  his  hearers ;  so  that  it  is  far  from  being  a  matter  of 
indifference  what  a  minister's  looks  and  tones  and  gestures  may  be 
in  tlie  sacred  desk,  as  many  persons  are  apt  to  suppose.  But  all 
this  is  only  the  outw^ard  sign  of  a  much  deeper  effect,  which  in  these 
circumstances  is  sure  to  be  produced.  The  minister's  style  of  think- 
ing, as  certainl}'  as  his  style  of  speaking,  will  after  a  time  show 
itself  among  his  hearers.  His  taste,  if  it  be  bad,  is  sure  to  be  con- 
tagious; whilst  it  works  with  an  influence  that  is  universally  refin- 
ing, when  it  may  ha])pen  to  be  chaste  and  good.  Tlie  character  of 
his  understanding,  his  processes  of  reasoning,  the  frame  and  the 
structure  of  his  thoughts,  all  connnunicate  themselves  in  some 
measure  to  the  congregation  over  which  he  presides  as  public 
teacher.  Under  this  view,  it  is  not  easy  to  sa^-  what  an  amount  of 
mere  educational  power  is  exerted  b}'  the  Christian  ministry  over 
those  who  acknowledge  its  authority*.  Their  intellectual  conforma- 
tion will  not  in  the  cud  hv  what  it  would  have  l)een  in  other  circum- 
stances. 

"  I  have  often  been  surprised  with  the  observation,  which  it  has 
fallen   in  my  way  to  make   with   regard  to   this   point.     Jn   almost 


110  AT    MERCERSBURO    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

every  instance,  in  which  I  have  had  an  opportunity  for  comparing 
the  characters  and  manners  of  students,  even  after  they  had  finished 
their  college  education,  with  the  character  and  manner  of  the  min- 
istry- under  whose  preaching  they  sat  in  their  earl}-  years,  the 
evidence  of  such  an  educational  relationship,  as  I  have  now  de- 
scribed, has  heen  quite  clear.  Such  effects  are  the  natural  results 
of  the  ordinary  laws  of  mind.  And  what  becomes  apparent  in  the 
case  of  students  is  onl}-  the  outward  expression  of  what  all  in  the 
same  circumstances  have  experienced  in  the  same  way.  The  mind 
of  the  congregation  is  always  modified  educationally  by  the  mind 
that  acts  upon  it  steadily  from  the  pulpit. 

"But  the  importance  of  the  sacred  ministry  rests  on  higher 
grounds  and  universally  more  solemn  than  these.  The  grand  ob- 
ject is  the  moral  improvement  of  those  who  come  vmder  its  power. 
Righteousness  and  truth  in  the  souls  of  men  are  the  vital  interests 
to  which  its  energies  are  b}^  special  consecration  devoted.  As  such, 
it  is  more  than  a  device  of  the  state ;  soniething  more  than  a  be- 
nevolent agency,  originated  b}'  wise  and  good  men  for  the  spiritual 
benefit  of  the  world.  It  is  a  divine  institution.  Planned  and 
sanctioned  by  Infinite  Wisdom  as  the  best  possible  arrangement  that 
could  1)e  made  to  carry  forward  the  vast  design  of  the  Gospel.  It 
carries  along  with  it  from  age  to  age  a  divine  supernatural  force 
for  the  accomplishment  of  spiritual  effects  with  reference  to  its  de- 
sign. It  works  with  irresistible  power  on  the  hearts  of  men,  and 
thus  takes  hold  on  the  very  foundations  of  character  and  life.  It 
is  mighty  through  God  to  the  pulling  down  of  strongholds.  All 
(Other  forms  of  power  are  weak  in  comparison  with  this. 

"  To  an}^  communit}^  then,  I  repeat  it,  the  Christian  ministry-  is 
an  interest  of  the  most  vital  consequence.  Under  its  proper  health- 
ful form,  it  will  be  found  encircling  with  true  conservative  power 
all  that  is  sound  and  wholesome  in  the  social  state,  elevating  men 
to  their  true  dignity,  and  bearing  them  successfully  forward  to- 
wards their  proper  destin}-.  And  where  it  may  happen  to  be  shorn 
of  its  power,  society  must  be  held  to  be  out  of  joint  in  the  most 
serious  respect.  Defect  or  corruption  here  involves  a  heavier  calam- 
ity than  defect  or  corruption  in  any  other  department  in  the  social 
system.  The  want  of  a  proper  judiciary  would  be  an  evil  less  worthy 
of  being  deprecated  than-  the  want  of  an  adequate  Gospel  ministry. 
A  bad  administration  of  the  state  is  not  so  great  a  calamity  as  the 
altsence  of  all  i)roper  light  and  power  from  the  pulpit.  The  heaviest 
affliction  that  can  fall  on  an}^  country  in  this  world  is  comprised  in 
the  fulfilment  of  that  terrible  word,  'I  will  come  unto  thee  quickly 


Chap.  XII]  the  oerman  character  111 

and  remove  tli\'  candlestick  out  of  his  place.'  Compared  witii  this, 
burdensome  taxes,  disordered  finances,  governmental  abuses  in  gen- 
eral, are  entitled  to  small  consideration.  The  question  how  the 
currency  should  be  regulated  is  of  less  account  by  far  than  the 
question.  How  shall  a  proper  provisi(ni  be  made  for  supplying  the 
people  with  sound  and  wholesome  religious  instruction? 

"  Institutions  and  etlorts,  which  jjropose  to  do  something  towards 
a  proper  provision  for  this  great  religious  and  social  interest,  are 
always  entitled  to  respect ;  and  so  far  as  they  may  be  found  suit- 
able and  sutlicient  for  their  proposed  end,  thej'  may  well  challenge 
the  sympathy  and  support  of  all  true  patriots,  as  well  as  of  all  true 
Christians.  They  should  feel,  that  in  lending  their  help  to  efforts, 
which  are  made  for  providing  and  maintaining  in  this  nation  a 
competent  and  efficient  Gospel  ministry,  they  are  rendering  to  their 
country  and  their  race  the  highest  kind  of  service  of  which  they 
are  capable." 

After  discussing  in  this  way  the  importance  of  the  Christian 
ministry  in  general,  the  Professor  goes  on  to  speak  of  the  move- 
ment on  the  part  of  the  Reformed  Church  which  had  led  to  the 
establishment  of  a  Theological  Seminary  and  College,  whose  pri- 
mary- object  was  to  supply  the  American  German  people  with  i)rop- 
erly  educated  religious  teachers.  Its  necessity  was  at  once  patent, 
and  the  idea  that  it  might  be  done  by  proxy  b}-  some  other  relig- 
ious denomination  was  preposterous  as  well  as  impracticable.  The 
field  was  vastly  important,  one  of  the  most  promising  kind,  and 
Providence  had  given  it  to  the  Germans  themselves  to  cultivate. 

"  The  territory-, "  said  the  speaker,  "  comprised  in  the  bounds  of 
the  Reformed  Church,  is  very  great,  and  includes  a  large  portion 
of  the  finest  soil  that  is  to  be  found  in  the  United  States  and  under 
the  highest  cultivation.  The  character  of  the  people  belonging  to 
its  connection,  or  falling  naturally  and  properly  under  its  care,  is 
full  of  encouragement.  The  original  elements  of  the  German  mind 
are  still  retained  in  their  moral  institutions,  onlj^  modified  to  some 
extent,  and  cast,  as  it  were,  into  the  American  mould,  by  the  i)ecu- 
liar  inlluenccs  to  which  they  have  been  subjected,  (under  a  remove 
of  two  or  three  generations  from  their  ancient  birthplace)  in  this 
new  world. 

"  Qualities  of  sterling  value  are  imbedded  in  their  spiritual  nature, 
which  need  only  to  be  properly  developed  by  means  of  knowledge 
and  religion,  working  hand  in  hand,  to  place  them  as  a  people  in 
the  very  foremost  rank  of  excellence  and  greatness.  The  (.Jerman 
mind   is  constitutionally   vigorous  and  free.     Simplicity,  honesty 


112  AT    MERCERSBURG   EROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

and  integrity  characterize  it  strilvingly  under  all  circumstances.  It 
leans  towards  nature  and  truth.  It  is  thoughtful,  meditative  and 
quiet.  It  abounds  in  sentiment  and  feeling ;  and  it  always  suffers 
a  sort  of  unnatural  a' iolence,  when  it  is  found,  througli  the  prevalence 
of  selfish  and  low  aims,  belying  its  native  element  in  this  respect. 
No  people  are  more  susceptible  than  the  Germans  of  all  the  deeper 
and  more  spiritual  emotions  of  our  nature.  None  have  a  greater 
aptitude  naturally  to  be  wrought  upon  by  music,  by  painting,  and 
poetr}',  and  all  that  addresses  itself  to  the  ai-sthetical  faculty  in  the 
soul.  None  naturally  have  a  quicker  sense  of  the  beautiful  and 
sublime,  whether  in  the  world  of  nature  or  in  the  world  of  spirit. 
None  are  more  susceptible  of  all  that  is  deep  in  friendship  or  sacred 
in  love.  In  none  is  the  instinct  of  religion  more  powerful,  or  the 
congenialitj^  of  the  soul  with  all  that  is  vast  and  awful  in  faith,  with 
all  that  is  profound  in  devotion,  more  readily  and  strongl}^  dis- 
plaj^ed. 

"  Indeed  the  fixults  of  the  German  character  stand  more  or  less 
in  affinity  with  the  favorable  susceptibilities  and  tendencies  which 
have  just  been  mentioned.  They  are  perverse,  one-sided  develop- 
ments of  forms  of  life,  the  native  excellency  of  which  cannot  fail  to 
be  perceived  in  some  measure  even  in  such  distortions.  These,  it 
is  the  business  of  a  proper  religious  culture  to  remove  or  prevent, 
and  happily  in  this  country,  the  state  of  society  and  the  reigning 
tone  of  thought  are  well  suited  to  counteract  those  moral  aberrations 
to  which  the  mind  of  Germany-  at  home  is  most  exposed ;  thus  plac- 
ing it  in  the  most  faA^orable  circumstances  with  regard  to  such  cul- 
ture, and  contributing  greatly  to  the  efficacy  of  it  as  far  as  it  may  be 
emplo^^ed. 

"  Such  is  the  character  of  the  people,  to  whose  spiritual  welfare 
the  enterprise  of  the  German  Reformed  Synod  has  primary  respect. 
It  is  a  character  which  involves  a  great  deal,  not  only  for  the  Ger- 
man population  itself  to  which  it  belongs,  but  to  the  American 
nation  generally.  Commercially,  politically  and  morally,  the  influ- 
ence of  this  people  is  immense ;  and  the  influence  which,  from  their 
resources  and  relations,  the}^  may  be  expected  to  exert  hereafter, 
and  which  it  is  desirable  to  exert  under  a  healthful  form  as  quickly 
as  possible,  may  be  said  to  be  beyond  all  calculation." 

The  professor  then  looking  over  the  vast  range  of  territory  oc- 
cupied by  the  German  diaspora  in  this  country,  extending  out  into 
the  West  and  increasing  in  population  every  year  b}-  immigration, 
asks  the  significant  question,  How  and  by  whom  are  its  spiritual 
wants  to  be  provided  for,  so  that  it  ma^^  blossom  as  the  rose  ? 


Chap.  XII]  our  GER^r.vN  churches  113 

"AVho  tlu'ii,"  he  goes  on  to  say,  "  iiatunilly  ought  to  care  for 
these  desolations,  if  it  be  not  the  German  population  of  the  coun- 
try themselves,  found  in  more  favorable  circumstances,  especially 
on  this  side  of  the  Alleghenies?  Who  may  be  considered,  bj'  their 
nature  and  position,  qualified  in  the  same  wa^',  to  work  successfully 
in  such  a  field?  If  the  German  population  of  this  country  is  to 
rise  at  all  to  its  proper  rank  in  a  religious  point  of  view,  it  must 
be  within  the  framework  of  its  own  ecclesiastical  institutions  and 
b^^  means  mainly  of  its  own  exertions.  Its  interests  cannot,  Avith 
propriety  or  safety,  be  devolved  upon  others. 

"  Can  the  English  thus  provide  for  the  necessities  of  the  German 
population  ?  Are  not  their  hands  already  full,  with  work  more  di- 
rectly and  immediately  their  own?  Can  the}' break  through  the 
barrier,  which  is  still  interposed  l)etween  the  two  people  by  differ- 
ence of  language  to  a  great  extent,  and  not  less  perhaps  by  differ- 
ence of  national  temperament?  Are  our  German  Churches  to 
merge  themselves  in  the  religious  systems  of  England  and  Scotland, 
on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  ?  Are  they  willing  to  see  their  own 
missionary  ground  wrested  from  their  hands,  when  it  should  be 
their  ambition,  as  it  is  plainly  their  solemn  trust,  to  accomplish 
the  work  themselves? 

"  I  would  be  tli£  last  to  countenance  or  encourage  national  pre- 
judices in  any  case;  and  least  of  all  would  I  be  willing  to  justify 
any  sentiment  of  this  sort,  as  it  regards  the  relations  of  the  Church 
I  left  with  the  one  wliich  has  just  taken  me,  as  an  adopted  son, into 
her  bosom.  Though  two  communions  in  one  aspect,  they  are  in 
another  altogether  the  same.  The  Reformed  Church  of  Scotland 
and  the  Kefonned  Church  of  Germany,  as  well  as  the  Reformed 
Church  of  France  and  of  Holland,  are  so  man}-  twin-sisters  by  birth, 
not  merely  of  the  Protestant  Reformation,  but  of  the  Reformation 
in  its  purest  form,  as  it  was  perfected  finally  at  Geneva  under  the 
gigantic  spirit  of  Calvin.  In  no  sense  do  they  constitute  different 
religious  sects,  according  to  the  pi-oper  use  of  the  term. 

"But  in  view  of  all  this  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  the  German 
Reformed  Church  ought  not  to  Xixj  aside  her  distinctive  national 
character  and  merge  herself  in  a  foreign  interest.  Nothing  is  clearer 
than  the  ftict  that  her  people  have  not  the  least  idea  of  thus  quit- 
ting their  national  ])osition  at  present;  but  independently  of  this,  I 
would  say  that  the  thing  in  itself  is  not  to  be  desired,  and  if  any 
disposition  of  this  sort  does  not  exist,  it  ought  not  to  be  encouraged. 

"  In  Eastern  Pennsylvania  especially,  the  predominent  form  of 
mind  will  continue  to  be  German;  and  that  inlluence  in  the  Church, 


114  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

which  is  visibly  of  German  constitution  and  German  growth,  must 
in  the  end  prove  more  effective  in  controling  its  character  than  an}' 
other.  For  the  German  Reformed  Church  to  renounce  its  German 
character  would  be  a  sort  of  treason  to  tlie  German  interest  gener- 
ally. Our  brethren  of  the  Lutheran  and  Moravian  Churches  might 
justly  complain  of  us  in  such  a  case,  that  they  were  left  to  bear 
alone  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day,  which  belongs  by  a  divine 
appointment  equally  to  us  all.  They  have  no  right  to  desert  us. 
We  have  no  right  to  desert  them.  The  united  weight  of  all,  stand- 
ing fast  to  their  national  standard,  will  all  be  needed  to  make  a 
right  moral  impression  on  the  wide-spread  community  to  which 
they  belong;  and  to  withstand  successfull}-  the  force  of  those  vari- 
ous forms  of  infidelity  and  error  to  which  it  is  coming  more  and 
more  to  be  exposed. 

"  The  case  is  clear.  The  German  Church  must  rise  within  her- 
self, under  God,  by  and  from  herself.  She  must  adhere  to  her  own 
standards.  She  must  have  her  own  ministry;  and  in  order  to  this, 
her  own  institutions  for  bringing  her  own  sons  forward  to  the  sacred 
office.  She  should  continue  to  cherish  still  her  national  sympathies, 
and  the  hallowed  associations  of  her  own  faith  and  worship.  As 
Germans  the  best  service  the}'  can  have  it  in  their  own  power  ordi- 
narily to  render  to  the  cause  of  religion  in  this  country,  will  be  to 
abide  in  their  own  Church,  and  to  do  all  that  in  them  lies  to  assist 
it  in  putting  on  the  full  strength  of  the  Lord.  And  we  may  add, 
that  we  have  a  right  to  expect  confidentl}^  the  sympathy  and  the 
friendly  co-operation  of  brethren  in  other  Churches  here  in  this 
work.  Especially  may  we  look  to  the  Reformed  Churches  of 
English  and  Scotch  extraction,  who  may  be  considered  in  a  certain 
sense  doctrinally  and  morally  one  with  ourselves — this  extraction 
being  the  only  exception. 

"  If  there  ever  was  a  case  in  which  a  people  were  bound  to  rail}- 
round  a  common  cause,  as  with  the  spirit  of  one  man,  it  seems  to 
me  that  we  have  it  here.  Who  that  has  the  heart  of  a  German 
within  him  can  refuse  to  lend  it  to  a  work,  which  looks  so  directly 
to  the  moral  elevation  of  a  communit}',  so  great,  so  powerful,  so  full 
of  promise,  and  to  which  he  feels  himself  bound  b}-  so  many  ties  ? 
Can  we  conceive  of  an  event,  Avithin  the  same  range  of  possibility, 
that  would  be  so  auspicious  to  the  interests  of  truth,  of  freedom, 
and  human  happiness,  in  this  countr}',  as  the  general  triumph  of 
light  and  truth  through  the  mighty  mass  of  mind  between  the 
Atlantic  and  the  Alleghenies  only,  rousing  it  to  action  worthy  of 
itself  and  clothing  itself  with  the  full  strength  of  its  constitution 


Chap.  XII]  more  laboukrs  115 

fully  developed?  Would  it  not  be  to  the  whole  laud  as  lilV  froui 
the  dead?  Where  should  we  find,  in  such  a  case,  in  these  whole 
United  States,  a  community  of  the  same  extent  so  interesting  to 
look  upon,  or  that  miglit  be  considered  more  necessary  to  the 
religious  and  jjolitieal  prosperity  of  the  land?  The  dawn  of  such  a 
day  as  we  have  imagined  might  seem  already  to  have  broken  above 
the  horizon.  The  German  mind  has  begun  to  awake  from  its  slum- 
ber, and  now,  may  be  expected  soon  to  make  itself  felt  in  a  new  and 
extraordinary  way.  The  Church  is  struggling  to  rise,  with  a  reso- 
lution and  energy  which  bid  fair  to  increase  every  j^ear. 

"  But  there  must  be  action  here  as  well  as  prayer.  Our  Institu- 
tions are  not  complete.  They  need  to  be  extended  and  made 
strong.  All  this  should  l)e  done  without  delay.  The  case  calls  for 
the  most  prompt  and  vigorous  measures.  Ever}-  year  is  precious. 
All  that  is  wanted  might  be  finished  in  a  single  year.  Why  then 
should  tliis  Avork  languish  or  drag?  How  many  men  have  we  in 
the  German  Reformed  connection  who  would  be  al)le  single-handed 
to  endow  a  professorship,  or  to  l)uild  a  college,  and  scarcely  miss 
the  donation  when  it  is  made?  They  can  hardly  find  an  interest 
more  worthy  of  their  generosity,  or  more  likely  to  make  it  tell  in 
perennial  blessings  on  the  people  to  which  thcA*  belong. 

'•  Young  men  also  of  proper  capacity  are  needed  in  large  num- 
bers for  carr^'ing  forward  this  great  design.  Parents  who  can  af- 
ford it  may  confer  a  high  favor  on  the  community,  as  well  as  on 
their  sons  themselves,  merely  by  giving  them  a  liberal  education. 
Let  our  substantial  farmers  send  their  sons  to  college.  The  great 
want  at  present  among  us  is  ministers.  Parents,  who  can  thus 
bring  forAvard  a  son  for  the  use  of  the  Church,  should  feel  that  in 
doing  so  they  make  the  richest  offering  in  their  power  to  present. 
Young  men  too,  who  have  a  heart  to  devote  themselves  in  this  Avay, 
should  come  forward  and  ofier  their  persons  for  the  service.  Let 
none  such  betake  themselves  to  other  denominations.  The  German 
Church  lays  licr  hand  on  her  own  children,  and  claims  them  sol- 
emnly for  herself.'' 

This  x\-ddress,  of  avIucIi  we  have  here  given  the  prominent 
thoughts,  was  a  remarkable  one,  Avhether  Ave  consider  its  judicious 
and  conserA'ative  tendency,  or  the  character  of  the  speaker,  a 
Scotch-Irish  man,  addressing  an  immense  (xerman  audience,  iiu  hid- 
ing many  more  absent  than  present.  It  had  the  force  of  an  his- 
torical event.  Its  contents,  passing  through  the  minds  of  minis- 
ters ajid  the  more  intelligent  elders,  gradually  trickled  down  into 
the  minds  of  the  people.      Such  as  Avere  English  in  speech  said  : 


116  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1810-1844  [DlV.  VIII 

Dr.  Nevin  means  what  he  says.  The  German  standing  by,  and  lis- 
tening without  understanding  many  of  the  words  of  the  address, 
but  readily  catching  its  drift  and  spirit,  quickly  added,  "  Der  Mann 
ist  im  Ernst.'''' 

In  less  than  a  year  from  its  deliA'ery,  the  entire  Church,  from  the 
Delaware  to  the  Susquehanna,  and  out  over  the  Allegheny  moun- 
tains into  Ohio, was  aglow  with  zeal  and  activity,  as  we  shall  see,  in 
building  up  its  schools  of  learning,  and  in  the  support  of  missions 
and  education.  The  happy  settlement  of  a  new  professor  at  Mer- 
cersburg,  with  his  brave  and  honest  words,  had  much  to  do  in  giving 
the  Cliurch  an  impulse  such  as  it  had  never  before  received  in  this 
country,  illustrating  what  has  been  already  said  that  the  Germans 
have  "  qualities  of  sterling  value,  which  need  only  to  be  developed 
by  knowledge  and  religion."  Here  then  in  language  like  this  we 
have  the  manifestation  of  a  broad  comprehensive  mind,  the  evidence 
of  a  high  order  of  integrity,  and  solemn  sense  of  responsibility. 
This  one  instance  more  than  redeems  the  narrow  infatuation  and  pre- 
sumption of  some  ministers  who  pass  from  one  denomination  to 
another,  not  to  work  in  the  line  of  its  history  and  genius,  but  to 
carry  out  their  own  subjective  views  and  feelings,  and  if  not  liter- 
ally, yet  in  effect,  to  take  their  churches  with  them  over  to  the 
denomination  from  which  they  came.  That  was  not  the  way  of  our 
true  and  honest  Scotchman,  who,  if  he  was  not,  in  fact,  the  de- 
scendant of  a  Highland  hero,  ought  to  have  been.  He  did  all  that 
he  promised,  fully  identified  himself  with  the  Reformed  Church, 
and  took  her  for  "  better  or  worse."  He  cut  loose  his  vessel  be- 
hind him,  and  began  to  work  with  his  brethren,  as  if  he  had  been 
born  in  their  church.  He  acted  wisely,  and  the  results  spoke  for 
themselves. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

AS  fllroad}-  said,  during  the  Summer  term  of  1840  Dr.  Xevin  was 
-^^j-  fre(iuently  called  on  to  conduct  worship  in  the  College  Chapel, 
at  the  special  re(iuest  of  Dr.  Ranch,  whose  failing  health  admon- 
ished him  to  husband  his  physical  strength.  He  was  quite  profuse 
in  affirming,  that  the  institutions  were  very  happy  in  being  supplied 
with  discourses  so  eminently  adapted  to  edify  the  students  as  well 
as  himself  and  the  rest  of  the  professors.  They  presented  a  rather 
strong  contrast  to  those  which  had  been  wont  to  be  delivered  in 
the  same  place,  in  style,  long  continued  processes  of  logical  reason- 
ing, in  being  about  twice  the  nsual  length  of  sermons,  and  suffi- 
ciently drv  when  heard  for  the  first  time  to  induce  drowsiness,  es- 
pecially on  a  warm  summer  afternoon.  They  were  off-hand,  with 
only  an  occasional  flash  of  imagination,  with  no  effort  at  rhetorical 
display,  severely  logical,  i)nngent,  and  earnest  in  their  aj^peals  to 
the  conscience  and  the  intellect.  The  speaker  had  a  grave  physique, 
a  scholarly  appearance,  a  strong,  deep,  masculine  voice,  such  as  is 
seldom  heard  in  the  pulpit,  and  presented  the  elements  of  an  orig- 
inal character,  all  of  which  arrested  the  attention  of  collegian  no 
less  than  theologian.  The  former  made  it  a  point  to  be  able  to 
say  that  he  understood  the  sermon,  in  which,  in  a  measure,  he  was 
perhaps  successful,  after  he  had  become  accustomed  to  the  preach- 
er's peculiar  style  and  language. 

One  of  these  Sunday  discourses,  apparently  as  intellectually  dry 
as  the  rest,  nevertheless,  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  minds  of 
the  heai-ers,  and  became  the  subject  of  remark,  as  replete  with  rich 
and  striking  thoughts.  The  theme  was  Party  Spirit,  and  on  fur- 
ther inquiry-  it  was  ascertained  that  the  sermon  embodied  the  sub- 
stance of  an  address  delivered  before  the  Literary'  Societies  of 
Washington  College,  Washington,  Pa.;  and,  as  it  had  then  been  pub- 
lished only  in  some  nionthl}-  magazine,  a  desire  was  expressed  that 
a  copy  of  it  miglit  be  secured  for  publication  in  pamphlet  form, 
which  was  accordingly  granted  under  the  circumstances.  Thus  all 
could  see  it.  and  also  stiidi/  it. 

It  differed  somewhat  from  addresses  nsualh'  delivered  at  College 
Commencements,  but  if  conqjared  with  those  of  "Webster,  Wirt,  or 
Southard,  taken  as  a  whole,  it  would  not  suffer  from  the  compar- 
ison.    It  was  sufficientlv  literarv  whilst  it  was  intenselv  practical, 

(117) 


118  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

and  at  the  same   time  more  philosophical  and  profound  than  is 
usually  the  case  with  discourses  of  this  class. 

The  subject  of  the  address  was  most  probably  suggested  by  the 
bitterness  of  party  spirit  as  it  existed  in  those  days  in  the  political 
world,  and  perhaps  just  as  much,  if  not  more  so,  between  the  Old 
and  New  Schools  in  Dr.  Nevin's  owm  denomination.  We  here  give 
some  account  of  this  address,  because  it  is  a  photograph  of  the 
author's  mind  at  this  particular  period  in  his  history.  To  some  ex- 
tent it  also  foreshadows  at  this  early  period  the  character  of  the 
man  in  his  spiritual  and  intellectual  tendencies,  as  these  subse- 
quently had  opportunit}-  to  develop  themselves  with  less  obstruc- 
tion in  the  freer  atmosphere  of  the  Reformed  Church.  It  was  an 
earnest  of  what  he  might  have  to  say  in  the  future  in  regard  to  Sect- 
ism  in  the  churches.  It  may  be  said  to  be  a  cross  between  a  ser- 
mon and  a  literary  address,  which  does  not,  however,  detract  from 
its  strength  in  the  least.  It  is  divided  into  three  parts,  treating  suc- 
cessiveh^  of  the  nature^  the  evil,  and  the  cure  of  Party  Spirit,  in 
which  every  now  and  then  the  author  is  sure  to  support  his  posi- 
tions with  appropriate  quotations  from  Scripture. 

"Party  Spirit,"  said  the  preacher,  "is  not  simply  zeal  for  the 
views,  opinions,  or  measures  of  a  certain  party  or  class  of  men, 
with  whom  we  may  feel  it  to  be  our  duty  to  co-operate  in  the  pro- 
motion of  just  and  honorable  ends.  Much  less  is  it  to  be  con- 
founded with  patriotism,  with  zeal  for  the  promotion  of  one's  par- 
ticular denomination,  or  activity  in  voluntary  associations  for  the 
benefit  of  the  community  or  of  the  world  at  large.  '  To  be  at- 
tached to  the  sub-division,  to  love  the  little  platoon  to  which  we 
belong  in  society,' said  Edmund  Burke,  'is  the  first  principle,  the 
germ  as  it  were  of  public  atfections.  It  is  the  first  link  in  the  series 
by  which  we  proceed  to  a  love  of  our  country  and  mankind.' 

"  The  social  principle,  which  binds  men  together  in  large  as  well 
as  small  platoons,  enters  vitally  into  the  constitution  of  human  na- 
ture, without  which  individual  men  would  be  mere  atoms,  and  man 
would  no  longer  be  man  or  the  common  unity  of  races,  nations, 
tribes,  and  individuals.  Without  contact  and  communion  with 
other  spirits  like  himself,  he  would  have  no  development  worthy 
of  his  nature,  and  no  history  that  constantly  leads  him  from  one 
grade  of  perfection  to  another.  There  is  a  common  mind  belonging 
to  each  age  and  to  every  country,  to  every  province  and  class  of 
society,  which  surrounds  men  as  an  atmosphere  and  in  the  end 
forms  the  character  of  the  individual  and  the  community.  Men  are 
not  now  what  they  were  a  thousand  or  two  thousand  years  ago,  or 


Chap.  XIII]  address  on  tarty  spirit  119 

even  a,  century  hack  of  us.  The  proi)erJind  tlie  final  regeneration  of 
the  world  dei)ends  on  the  spread  and  triumph  of  this  principle,  by 
bringing  together  into  one  the  dissevered  elements  of  humanity, 
that  are  now  scattered  abroad. 

"Party  Spirit  is  an  abuse,  a  misdirection  of  the  social  principle. 
It  employs  it  but  only  for  its  own  selfish  purposes  and  ends.  Its 
professions  of  course  are  ahvays  good,  or  they  tiy  to  appear  so. 
Not  seldom  the  objects  sought  to  be  promoted  are  in  themselves 
commendable,  but  both  the  spirit  and  the  means  employed  in  their 
pursuit  are  totally  foreign  to  their  nature.  The  partisan  cares  most 
for  himself;  for  his  own  emolument  or  the  gratification  of  his  own 
base  passions.  The  character  or  good  name  of  others  who  maj-  be 
in  his  way  are  of  no  account  to  him,  and  he  can  slay  them,  tread 
them  in  the  dust,  and  enjoy  his  savage  triumph.  Bad  passions  seek 
for  outward  support,  and  this  they  find  when  the}^  have  a  multitude 
behind  them  to  feed  their  consuming  fires.  Often  they  claim  for 
themselves  the  voice  of  conscience,  or,  as  they  call  it,  a  sense  of  dut}', 
when  there  is  not  a  scintillation  of  true  conscientiousness  in  all 
their  fury.  Even  the  lives  of  others  no  less  than  their  happiness 
are  not  sacred  interests  in  the  mind  of  the  partisan,  when  thev 
come  in  his  way  ;  and  he  is  willing,  directly  or  indirectly,  to  stamp 
them  out,  in  order  that  the  sense  of  self-exaltation  may  be  realized 
in  the  triumph  secured,  by  waj-s  that  are  dark,  selfish  and  mean. 
Most  malicious,  satanic  and  vile  is  this  Spirit  of  Part}-,  under  what- 
ever phase  it  shows  itself,  whether  in  the  high  places  of  the  Church, 
State,  or  elsewhere. 

"  It  may  be  modified  by  external  circumstances,  so  as  to  operate 
as  a  quiet,  unobtrusive  force  both  in  the  politician,  the  socialist,  or 
the  religionist ;  but  when  the  moral  restraints  are  out  of  the  way  and 
the  needful  impulse  has  been  given  to  the  corporate  mind,  it  puts 
on  the  form  of  an  ungovernable  phrensj-,  and  all  individuality  is 
borne  down  and  swept  away  for  the  time  by  its  whirlwind  course. 
Then,  also,  as  the  imagination  becomes  quickened  and  inflamed,  it 
runs  more  and  more  into  the  character  of  a  dark  and  malignant 
fanaticism,  and  is  ripe  for  the  most  cruel  excesses. 

"  The  mischief  and  evils  flowing  from  Party  Spirit,  when  it  once 
gets  possession  of  the  social  })rinciple,  and  perverts  it  in  the  interest 
of  pure  individual  selfishness,  extend  over  the  entire  surface  of 
human  life,  every  where  blighting  what  is  good  and  true  as  a  malig- 
nant mildew.  Their  name  is  Legion.  Once  organized  and  strength- 
ened by  numbers — most  of  whom  are  mere  dupes — it  tries  to  enforce 
the  respect  of  others  for  its  virtuous  principles  and  its  disinterest- 


120  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  VIII 

edness  in  promoting  useful  public  interest,  when  its  high  boastings 
are  the  veriest  hypocriey  and  the  merest  cant. 

"Yes,"  says  Dr.  Nevin,  "hateful  and  terrific  is  the  Spirit  of 
Party,  in  its  own  nature.  In  its  ultimate  aim  it  is  supremely-  anti- 
social the  more  it  becomes  incorporated  with  the  social  feeling. 
Some  disguise  is  thrown  over  its  character  in  this  respect  b}'  the 
way  in  which  it  is  found  to  diffuse  itself  at  first,  as  it  were,  over  a 
general  interest ;  but  this  is  only  a  disguise,  and  so  far  as  it  pre- 
vails at  all,  it  serves  rather  to  enhance  the  mischief  by  making  it 
more  insidious  as  well  as  more  refined.  Where,  in  fact,  shall  we 
meet  with  pride  and  all  uncharitableness  so  loudly  proclaimed  or 
so  unblushingly  indiilged  in,  as  when  the  Spirit  of  Party  rules 
rampant  over  the  inward  man  ?  Self-glorification  and  self-will  are 
here  carried  to  their  utmost  pitch.  Malice  finds  its  largest  scope. 
Hatred  may  reach  its  most  fanatical  extreme.  Revenge  may  enjoy 
its  most  fiendish  triumph.  All  this,  I  say,  belongs  to  Party  Spirit 
in  its  own  nature.  There  ma}-  be  only  a  partial  development  of 
these  sins  against  charity  at  anj  particular  time ;  but  their  entire 
strength  is  there,  at  the  same  time,  as  a  latent  possibilitj^ ;  and  all 
forces  are  carried  in  its  womb,  where  they  only  wait  for  proper 
occasions  to  give  forth  the  most  frightful  births  that  belong  to 
time. 

"  The  Spirit  of  Party,  just  so  far  as  it  prevails,  and  especially 
after  it  begins  to  assume  a  fanatical  complexion,  holds  the  soul, 
which  is  the  subject  of  it,  always  in  an  atmosphere  of  unholy  pas- 
sion, where  all  ideas  of  truth  and  virtue  are  exposed  to  danger. 
The  mind  yields  itself,  more  or  less,  to  the  dominion  of  one  idea; 
verges, as  we  sa^-,  towards  monomania.  Truth  in  the  end  is  treated 
with  as  little  respect  as  charity  ;  honesty  and  simplicity  do,  as  it 
were,  make  to  themselves  wings  and  fly  awaj-,  like  an  angel  towards 
heaven.  Who  in  truth  looks  for  integrity  and  fair  dealing  where 
Part}'  Spirit  runs  high  ? 

"  And  is  it  not  equally  unfavorable  to  all  intellectual  freedom  and 
sound  knowledge  ?  In  the  investigation  of  truth  how  much  depends 
on  the  right  state  of  the  affections.  These  are  always  more  or  less 
the  medium,  through  which  the  A'ai'ious  objects  of  knowledge  are 
contemplated.  Let  them  become  diseased  or  exorbitant  in  any 
way,  and  at  once  everything  that  stands  in  connection  with  them  is 
made  to  appear  in  a  false  light  and  under  a  distorted  form.  Opinion 
is  always  mighty,  where  a  man  has  come  to  move  and  have  his 
being  in  its  mystic  circle,  and  such  a  power  not  only  sways  the 
will,  but  becomes  the  very  light  of  thought  itself     In  this  way 


Chap.  XIII]  address  on  party  spirit  121 

parties  often  create  for  themselves  both  reason  and  will  of  tlieir 
own.  "What  they  will  to  be  true,  and  choose  to  call  so,  in  the  light 
of  such  wilful  opinion  itself,  is  made  to  seem  truth.  A  Bartholomew 
massacre  may  seem  only  a  fit  occasion  for  chanting  a  Te  Deum  in  all 
the  churches. 

"  A  mind  enthralled  by  the  authority  of  a  party  is  in  a  false  posi- 
tion for  seeing  the  Truth.  Its  inquiries  are  continually  sultordi- 
nated  to  another  interest.  Hence  it  contracts  also  a  narrow  and  an 
illiberal  character,  which  goes  with  it  in  all  its  speculations.  Free- 
dom, comprehensive  energy,  and  clear  strong  vision,  are  not  to  be 
looked  for  in  these  circumstances.  Thus  the  Spirit  of  Part}^  is 
opposed  to  all  true  greatness  of  soul. 

"  Is  it  necessary  to  dwell  upon  the  unhappj'  fruits  of  Party  Spirit, 
as  it  is  felt  in  the  regions  of  politics  ?  In  such  a  country  as  ours, 
the}^  are  of  a  character  to  be  known  and  read  b}'  all.  At  what  an 
expense  of  virtue,  with  what  wreck  of  principle,  are  not  our  party 
struggles  ordinarily  conducted  through  the  entire  nation  ?  The 
ver}'  earth  is,  as  it  were,  made  to  shake  at  times  b3'  reason  of  its 
commotions.  Evil  passions  are  let  loose;  false  tongues  vibrate; 
words  full  of  poison  tiy  as  arrows  ;  pens,  dipped  in  gall,  strike  like 
the  fang  of  an  angry  viper ;  and  the  Press  scatters  in  all  directions 
coals  of  juniper,  grapeshot  and  death.  No  character  is  sacred — no 
principle  is  safe. — 111  must  it  fare,  in  such  a  hurly-burly  of  the  pas- 
sions, with  the  real  interests  of  the  country,  which  are  made  the 
ostensible  cause  of  all  the  excitement.  Zeal  for  these  in  truth  is 
generally  the  smallest  element  in  the  composition  of  the  moral 
whirlwind.  They  are  sacrificed  and  trampled  under  foot — more  or 
less  b}-  all  parties.  Legislation,  measures  of  State,  economical 
policy,  in  a  word,  all  public  interests,  fall  hopelessly  into  the  net. 
It  is  well  if  even  the  seat  of  judgment  can  escape. 

"Science,  too,  may  have  her  parties;  it  has  had  them  with  like 
effect.  Sad  for  her,  indeed,  has  been  the  fanaticism  of  creeds  alike 
sworn  to  do  her  homage.  The  time  has  been,  when  it  lay  like  an 
embargo  on  all  free  use  of  mind.  A  chemical  mixture  could  not 
change  from  blue  to  red,  from  transparent  to  opaijue ;  an  apple  would 
not  fall  to  the  ground;  na}-,  the  planets  might  not  swing  through 
their  orbits  without  kindling  angr}-  feuds  in  colleges..  It  was  not 
believed,  or  not  felt,  that  knowledge  is  always  the  friend  of  man 
and  his  coadjutor,  or  that  error  is  his  enemy.  Theories  are  still 
serving  at  times  as  rallying  points  of  genuine  party  zeal.  In  medi- 
cine, particularly,  it  may  be  long  before  either  science  or  art  shall 
cease  to  be  embarrassed  from  this  cause. 
8 


122  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

"  But  what  Science  has  suffered  from  parties,  Religion  suffers 
in  full  measure  to  this  present  hour.  Need  it  he  said  that  the  Spirit 
of  Party  is  directly  opposed  to  the  Spirit  of  the  Gospel?  The  one 
destroj's  what  the  other  would  build  up.  It  drinks  up  the  life  blood 
of  the  Church;  cuts  the  sinews  of  foith  and  prayer;  and  blunts  the 
edge  of  all  spiritual  motives.  The  still  small  voice  of  the  Spirit 
cannot  be  heard  where  it  reigns.  Truth  also  finds  no  mercy  under 
its  hands.  Shorn  of  her  vital  spirit,  she  is  retained  and  honored  at 
the  best  onl^-  as  an  embalmed  corpse ;  a  bandaged  mumm}',  stiff  and 
still ;  with  a  creed  for  its  sarcophagus.  Dogmas  are  substituted  for 
ideas.  Words  absorb  things.  Symbols  rule  faith.  Theology,  spring- 
ing from  the  brain  onl^^,  stands  forth  Minerva-like  in  complete 
armor,  belligerent,  ripe  at  all  times  for  battle.  The  Church  is 
known  mainly  as  a  scene  of  death-dealing  strife.  The  chief  care  is 
for  her  munitions  and  magazines  of  war.  All  her  learning  and  dis- 
cipline look  in  that  way.  The  very  Bible  is  turned  into  an  armory. 
Exegesis  must  bend  to  the  author! t}^  of  sj'stera.  ^j:"position  be- 
comes /imposition — sense  put  into  the  text, not  drawn  from  it;  and 
Revelation  is  used  onlj^  as  a  mirror,  where  a  man  sees  the  forms  of 
his  previous  thoughts  reflected  back  upon  him  as  oracles  from  God. 

"  Part}'  Spirit  is  specious  in  its  pretensions,  insidious  in  its  ap- 
proaches to  the  human  heart,  promises  much  with  its  flattering 
tongue,  and  grows  out  of  man's  crooked  fallen  nature.  Hence, 
good  men  sometimes  fall  under  its  control  before  they  are  aware  of 
it,  and  are  found  like  Saul  of  Tarsus  in  open  war  with  truth  and 
innocence,  whilst  all  the  time  they  are  manifestly  fighting  God 
Himself.  As  the  world  now  is,  a  new  truth,  or  what  seems  to  be 
new,  is  not  allowed  to  make  a  step  in  advance  before  it  is  con- 
fronted with  the  partisan,  who  disputes  its  further  progress,  and 
then  the  fight  begins.  In  the  end,  after  many  hard  fought  battles, 
the  Truth  gains  the  victory,  but  the  factious  opposition  deserves 
none  of  the  credit,  although,  without  intending  an^^thing  of  the 
kind,  it  has  actually  promoted  the  interest  which  it  had  all  along 
opposed.  Good  comes  out  of  evil,  but  the  latter  should  be  none 
the  less  abhorred.  Ever}-  one  of  us  should  look  upon  it  as  a  viper 
and  seek  to  shake  it  off  from  our  persons. 

"Say  not  then,"  as  Dr.  Nevin  interpolates  in  his  address,  "I 
would  have  been  this  or  that  in  an}'  given  state  of  society  which 
thou  hast  not  tried  ;  or,  at  least,  say  it  onh'  as  thou  hast  faith  in 
God.  And  be  fully  sure  that  without  this  faith  strongly  at  work, 
thou  hast  even  now  a  factious  life  made  up  of  the  mere  reverberations 
of  opinions  around  thee,  far  be3'ond  what  thou  hast  ever  dreamed. 


Chap.  XIII]  address  ox  party  spirit  123 

"Reflection  u})<)ii  the  iKiturc,  tendencies  and  evil  tVnits  of  Party 
Spirit  will  accomplish  somethin(»-,  much  in  overcoming  its  tyrannic 
sway  over  onr  minds.  Such  knowledge  will  l>e  useful  in  propor- 
tion as  it  brings  the  individual  to  see  that  it  is  of  the  nature  of  a 
disease,  and  not  the  nominal  activity  of  a  truly  enlightened  and 
generous  mind.  But  knowledge  here  at  best  can  only  serve  to  pre- 
pare the  wa3'  for  the  cure  of  a  malady  by  the  elevation  of  the  mind 
itself  in  a  positive  way  above  the  level  of  the  mere  partisan,  who 
in  principle  is  not  much  above  the  prize-fighter.  Communion  with 
the  great  and  good  of  all  ages  has  a  peculiarl}-  refining  and  elevat- 
ing character.  Here  on  our  own  soil  we  are  favored  with  a  name, 
which  carries  with  it  a  sacred  authority,  and  it  is  the  richest  boon 
which  Providence  has  conferred  on  the  American  people.  The 
example  of  Washington,  the  true  patriot,  the  pnre  statesmen,  the 
glory  of  his  countiy,  the  wonder  of  the  world,  is  worth  more  for 
us  as  a  people  than  all  that  he  accomplished  in  war.  It  is  a  living 
fountain  of  virtue  still,  from  which  a  salutary  influence  may  be 
expected  to  flow  in  perennial  streams  through  all  time.  S^'mpathy 
with  the  mind  of  Washington  may  be  recommended  especially,  as 
a  most  excellent  antidote  to  the  vile  Spirit  of  Party. 

"  We  ma^-  for  a  moment  glance  at  exemplars,  which  look  down 
upon  us  from  a  ^ct  loftier  height.  The  philosoph}^  of  the  skies 
embodied  in  the  mind  of  Plato,  or  transcribed  from  the  life  of  his 
master  Socrates,  is  found  to  have  a  wonderfully  plastic  power  on 
all  who  converse  intelligently  with  his  writings  to  this  da^'.  Let 
me  here  recommend  them  as  a  liberalizing  discipline  in  the  case 
nnder  consideration. 

"  But  more  especially  be  exhorted  to  converse  with  the  might}' 
spirits,  which  in  diflTerent  ages  have  drunk  most  deepl}^  of  the  in- 
spiration of  evangelical  truth.  In  proportion  as  this  has  been  true 
of  them,  3'ou  will  find  them  soaring  always  al)ove  the  bigotry  of 
sects  and  parties;  and  in  their  company  you  can  hardly  fail  to  come 
yourselves,  in  some  measure,  under  the  power  of  those  broad. 
Catholic  principles  of  Christianity,  which  appear  so  full  of  majesty, 
and  worth}'  of  all  reverence  in  their  persons.  Such  virtue  is  found 
still  embalmed  as  a  fragrant  odor  in  the  memory  of  the  meek  and 
gentle  Melanchthon  and  others  of  like  spirit  with  him. 

"  Take  Paul  himself  as  an  exanii)lar  to  be  studied,  admired,  imi- 
tated to  the  end  of  life.  AVhere  will  you  find  among  men  a  more 
splendid  exhibition  of  living  greatness?  His  mind  still  lives,  the 
shrine  of  all  that  is  loft}'  and  large  in  human  character,  in  his  history, 
and   especially   in   his  Avritings.     Possessed   of  the   finest  natural 


124  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  VIII 

endowments,  he  rose,  subsequently  to  his  memorable  conversion,  to 
an  intimac}^  with  the  great  themes  of  religion,  which  imparted  the 
highest  vigor  to  all  his  faculties,  whilst  it  purified  and  refined  his 
aftections,  and  established  the  most  complete  order  and  harmony 
in  his  whole  spirit.  Who  can  come  into  the  presence  of  such  a  man 
and  not  be  aflfected  with  the  sublime  dignity  of  religion,  as  it  shines 
through  his  whole  spirit,  and  stands  embodied  in  his  person?  And 
who  can  gaze  on  such  a  character  for  any  time  without  feeling  that 
it  belongs  to  a  region  high  above  the  common  agitations  of  tlie 
world,  and  wishing  to  ascend  the  same  pure  heights  ?  Parties  in 
the  Church  Catholic  he  regarded  with  abhorrence  as  the  pest  of  re- 
ligion, and  as  the  bane  of  that  heaven-born  charity,  in  which  essen- 
tially he  supposed  the  power  of  the  Gospel  to  consist.  Party 
Spirit  must  ever  shrink  abashed  in  his  presence,  just  as  soon  as 
the  man  himself  is  truly  known  and  his  presence  felt. 

"  In  a  word,  the  genius  of  the  Gospel  is  irreconcilabl}'  at  war  with 
the  Spirit  of  Part}".  That  is  loft}",  large,  and  free.  It  owns  no 
affinity  with  whatever  is  selfish  or  malignant  in  thought  or  life. 
Its  home  is  in  the  heavens  and  it  will  not  be  bound  by  the  narrow 
conceptions  of  men,  nor  stoop  to  please  their  illiberal  passions.  It 
is  the  mind  of  Jesus  Christ  Himself.  There  was  no  Part}'  Spirit 
there     As  well  might  we  expect  to  meet  with  it  in  Heaven." 

Such  were  Dr.  Nevin's  views  in  regard  to  F^arty  Spirit  in  general 
when  he  entered  upon  his  duties  at  Mercersburg.  They  are  given 
here  as  introductory  to  much  of  what  he  afterwards  wrote  on  the 
subject  of  divisions,  heresies,  and  schisms  in  the  Church.  They 
constitute,  as  we  may  say,  the  first  bugle  note  of  a  long  war  which 
he  waged  against  the  Spirit  of_S.ectism  in  favor  of  the  unity  of  the 
Church,  as  we  shall  see  hereafter.  The  Inaugural  also  shows  the 
indications  of  a  true  Christian  Platonism,  which  subsequently  ex- 
panded and  became  an  underlying  element  both  in  his  theological 
and  philosophical  writings.  We  here  give  a  few  passages,  which 
may  be  regarded  as  the  philosophical  antidote  for  narrowness  of 
mind  in  general,  no  less  than  when  it  is  led  captive  in  the  leading- 
strings  of  party. 

"  The  soul  takes  its  quality  and  complexion  always  from  the  ob- 
jects with  which  it  is  accustomed  most  intimately  and  habitually 
to  converse.  Such  is  the  law  of  our  moral  life.  It  is  only  then  by 
communion  witli  wliat  is  absolutely  true,  and  great,  and  good,  that 
the  original  grandeur  of  our  nature  can  ever  be  evolved  in  its  full 
and  just  proportions.  It  is  by  gazing  on  the  Holy  and  the  Beau- 
tiful, as  they  are  in  themselves,  that  we  recognize  in  the  first  place 


Chap.  XIII]  address  on  party  spirit  125 

our  own  coinuitural  interest  in  the  skies,  imd  are  then  changed  into 
the  same  image,  from  glory  to  glory,  as  by  the  spirit  of  the  Lord. 
Whatever  may  operate  to  restrain  or  hinder  such  contemplation, 
causing  the  necessary,  the  universal,  to  make  room  in  our  minds 
for  the  transient,  and  the  particular,  and  circumscribing  our  vision 
by  the  visible  horizon  of  Time,  must  be  deprecated  as  an  influence 
fatal  to  :ill  true  spiritual  education.  It  would  be  so,  even  if  it 
might  be  conceived  of  apart  from  all  perverted  and  morbid  views, 
in  its  domination.  An  exclusive  communion  with  time  things  can- 
not fail  to  dwarf  the  soul,  however  honestly  and  fairly  maintained. 
What,  then,  must  it  be  in  its  injurious  operation,  when  all  false 
conceptions  and  all  wrong  feelings  come  in,  as  here  in  the  case  of 
Party  Spirit,  to  aggravate  its  power,  exaggerating,  coloring,  steal- 
ing tire  from  heaven,  to  animate  dead  clay  into  every  imaginable 
show  of  lantastic  life  !  Ah  !  how  the  spirit  must  sink,  and  become 
shriveled  in  its  dimensions  in  circumstances  like  these ! 

"  Soar  in  spirit  above  the  region  of  sense  and  particular  opinion, 
always  darkened  by  the  mists,  if  not  agitated  by  the  storms  of  pas- 
sion ;  and  let  3'our  home  be,  maiul}^  at  least,  in  the  empyrean  sphere 
of  absolute  and  eternal  truth.  Much  may  be  accomplished  towards 
this  end  b}'  the  right  use  of  mere  science  only.  All  true  knowledge 
elevates,  expands,  rarities,  if  I  may  say  so,  the  life  of  the  soul. 
But  especiall}'  is  this  the  case  with  that  divine  philosoph}',  whose 
organ  is  the  pure  reason,  and  which  has  for  its  contemplation  mainly 
the  original  and  everlasting  ideas  of  Religion  itself.  Even  apart 
from  revelation,  such  philosophy,  as  it  meets  us  in  the  towering 
thoughts  of  the  Grecian  Plato,  ma}^  well  be  denominated  the  mistress 
of  an  immortal  mind.  With  him  all  inward  illumination  and  sta- 
bilit}'  are  found  in  communion  with  the  ta  onta  as  opposed  to  the 
ta  phainomena^  and  nothing  less  than  the  to  ac/athon,  the  self  evi- 
dencing light  of  the  Truth  itself,  will  serve  as  the  medium  bv  which 
this  communion  is  to  be  maintained.  Conversing  only  with  the 
world  of  time,  through  the  medium  of  the  senses,  the  soul  is  repre- 
sented as  reeling  in  a  sort  of  drunken  delirium,  with  the  fluctuating 
show  on  which  it  looks;  but  in  the  use  of  its  own  higher  vision,  it 
becomes  itself  again  (Phaedo,  Vol.  1,  p.  126,  Ed.  Tanchnitz.)  Thus 
exercised,  as  he  tells  us  in  another  place,  it  cannot  afford  to  stoop 
to  the  trivial  interests  with  which  men  are  commonly  employed,  so 
as  to  be  filled  with  all  malignant  affections  in  struggling  witli  them 
for  such  things;  but  aims  rather  in  the  steady  contemplation  of 
what  is  alwa3's  the  same  and  always  right,  to  be  transformed  into 
the  same  image.     De  Rei)ublica,  Vol.  V,  p.  280." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

SOON  after  Dr.  Nevin's  removal  to  Mercersburg,  and  a  few  days 
before  his  installation  into  office  as  professor,  he  was  formall}^ 
received  into  the  Reformed  Church  by  the  Classis  of  Maryland, 
which  met  this  year  at  Clearspring,  Md.,  on  the  16th  of  Ma^-,  on 
his  presenting  his  certificate  of  dismission  from  the  Presb3'tery  of 
Ohio.  The  Classis,  after  expressing  its  regret  at  the  withdrawal 
of  the  Rev  Dr.  Mayer  from  further  duty  in  the  Seminary,  and  its 
appreciation  of  his  past  services,  approved  of  the  appointment  of 
Dr.  Nevin  to  fill  the  vacancy,  and  regarded  it  "as  a  special  inter- 
position of  Divine  Providence,  for  which  the  German  Reformed 
Church  is  under  great  obligations  to  return  its  gratitude  to  the 
great  Head  of  the  Church,  at  whose  sovereign  disposal  are  all  our 
affairs."  The  Classis,  then,  under  some  kind  of  inspiration  that  the 
set  time  had  come  for  the  Lord  to  A'isit  Zion,  and  for  the  armies  of 
Israel  to  move  forward,  earnestly  discussed  the  question  of  holding 
a  Centenary  Celebration  of  the  founding  of  the  Reformed  Church 
in  this  country.  The  result  was  an  overture  to  Synod  to  appoint 
such  a  celebration  for  the  year  1841,  "as  a  means  which  would  tend 
to  giA'e  character  and  prominence  to  the  Church,  and  add  much  in- 
terest to  all  her  operations."  It  was  a  wise  suggestion,  encouraging 
to  the  new  professor,  and,  as  we  shall  see,  one  which  led  to  useful 
results,  going  ftxr  be^'ond  anything  which  any  of  its  movers  had 
imagined.  It  was  the  feeble  beginning  of  a  great  and  good  work, 
which  from  its  start  carried  with  it  Dr.  Nevin's  strong  personalit}-. 
After  he  had  been  received  into  the  Church,  and  duly  inducted 
into  his  new  office,  noiselessly  and  unobtrusively  he  entered  upon 
its  duties,  so  that  probably  some  of  his  students  did  not  know 
what  to  make  of  him.  As  the  principal  professor  in  the  Seminary,  he 
had  full}'  sufficient  work  to  occup}^  all  his  time,  especially  if  he  was 
to  be  master  of  the  situation,  and  to  be  abreast  of  the  times.  For 
an 3^  one  of  slower  perceptions,  no  more  laboi"  of  any  kind  could 
have  been  performed;  but  he  soon  saw  that  if  the  enterprise  in 
which  he  had  embarked  was  to  succeed  at  all  and  not  result  in  dis- 
astrous fixilure,  his  services  were  needed  also  in  the  practical  work 
of  the  Church.  He  found  himself  surrounded  by  many  earnest 
ministers  and  elders,  wlio  were  praying  and  laboring  with  all  their 
energies  to  lu'ing  about  a  better  state  of  affairs,  to  awaken  the 

(126) 


ClIAP.  XIV]  AVRITES    FOR    THE    MESSENGER  127 

cliurrlies  to  :i  proper  seuse  of  their  responsibility  in  the  sight  of 
God,  and  to  induce  the  members  at  once  to  engage  in  building  up 
the  broken  down  walls  of  Zion.  For  many  dreary'  years  they  had 
thus  exerted  themselves,  but  ai)parently  without  anything  like  ade- 
quate results.  Some  of  the  congregations  were  partiallj-  awake, 
but  some  of  them  were  still  i)rofoundly  asleep. 

Dr.  XeA'in,  with  quick  insight  into  things,  soon  came  to  under- 
stand the  situation,  in  which  he  was  placed,  providentiall}-,  as  he 
belieA'ed.  Much  preparatory  work  was  needed  to  make  the  schools 
of  learning  what  they  ought  to  be,  which  in  his  mind  were  vitally 
connected  with  the  prosperit}'  of  a  large  communion  of  churches. 
Accordingl}'  he  fell  in  full}'  with  every  movement  that  tended  in 
any  wa^'  to  promote  the  internal  or  external  prosperity'  of  the 
Church  as  a  whole ;  and  for  this  kind  of  service  he  seemed  to  have 
been  specially  qualified.  He  had  been  himself  once  an  editor, 
wrote  with  great  facility,  and  he  soon  became  a  frequent  corres- 
pondent of  the  MeHHenger.  His  articles  were  alw'aj'S  to  the  point, 
that  is,  they  had  some  practical  or  useful  object  in  view,  and  the}' 
arrested  attention.  Usually  thev  were  long ;  and  although  the 
printers  tried  to  make  them  appear  shorter,  by  the  use  of  small 
type  and  crowding  the  lines  as  closely  together  as  possible,  3'et  for 
the  most  part  they  were  what  now-a-days  would  be  regarded  at 
once  as  long-winded.  They  were,  nevertheless,  read  with  interest 
by  the  ministry  and  the  lait}-.  The  latter  caught  their  drift,  at 
least,  and  were  sure  that  they  contained  valuable  thoughts — not 
mere  words. 

Under  the  impression,  probablv  that  what  the  German  Churches 
needed  most  was  more  spiritualit}',  he  commenced  a  series  of  articles 
in  the  Messenger  on  the  subject  of  "  Worldly-mindedness,"  which 
were  continued  from  June  to  August,  six  in  number,  and  all  long 
enough  to  be  read  and  digested  in  hot  w'eather  onl}-  by  the  interest 
they  inspired.  They  are  written  in  the  style  of  his  Puritan  educa- 
tion, solemn,  earnest,  abounding  in  refined  distinctions  and  valu- 
able hints  to  guard  against  self  decei)tion,  (piite  abreast  of  Dod- 
dridge, Edwards  and  other  casuistic  writers  of  the  Puritan  school, 
who  in  their  efforts  to  makeasimi)le  matter  still  plainer  sometimes 
make  it  more  obscure.  Respect  for  the  Sabbath  received  its  highest 
tension,  and  the  reader  is  sometimes  at  a  loss  to  know  what  kind 
of  works  of  necessity  would  be  allowed  on  that  day.  But  the 
articles  abound  with  striking  thoughts,  which  distinguish  clearly 
between  the  carnal  and  the  spiritual  mind  of  scripture.  The  world 
is  presented  in  its  pro^jer  antithesis  to  the   Kingdom  of  God,  faith 


128  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

to  sight,  and  the  higher  spiritual  nature  of  man  to  his  lower,  animal 
or  psychic  being. 

"  Our  connection  with  the  world,"  he  says,  "  is  through  the 
medium  of  our  bodily  nature.  This  grounds  itself  at  present  in 
the  outward  material  world  and  takes  hold  of  it  continually  by  in- 
numerable relations,  more  or  less  intimately  affecting  our  very 
existence  itself.  These  relations  give  rise  to  wants,  which  right- 
fully challenge  a  large  share  of  oiir  thoughts.  But  after  all,  they 
do  not  exhaust  by  any  means  the  proper  idea  of  our  existence. 
Rather,  I  should  say,  they  take  up  in  themselves  but  a  small  part 
of  this  idea. — The  relations  of  the  Spirit,  as  formed  for  holiness  and 
immortality,  are  unspeakably  more  important,  and  give  rise  to  in- 
terests of  a  far  higher  order  than  any  that  can  spring  from  the  other 
ground.  These  comprise  the  real  and  ultimate  intention  of  our 
existence,  and  ought  of  right  to  hold  the  first  place  in  our  thoughts. 
Whatever  may  be  due  to  the  present  world  as  such,  it  should  be 
considered  as  having  only  a  secondar}-  claim  upon  our  regard.  Our 
life  in  time  should  be  used  always  as  something  subordinate  in  all 
respects  to  our  higher  destination,  as  this  lies  in  the  constitution 
of  the  soul ;  the  scaffolding,  so  to  speak,  by  which  our  true  spiritual 
being  is  to  be  raised  and  brought  into  view ;  a  temporary,  tran- 
sient form  of  existence,  designed  onl}'  to  open  the  way  education- 
ally for  a  more  perfect  state,  in  which,  at  last,  it  finds  its  proper 
meaning  and  value.  This  right  estimate  of  outward  interests,  as 
compared  with  those  of  the  Spirit,  can  never  be  wanting,  where 
faith  is  in  vigorous  exercise.  But  so  far  as  men  are  found  destitute 
of  this  divine  principle,  the}' judge  and  act  in  a  different  way  alto- 
gether. They  mind  earthly  things ;  bestow  upon  them  their  main 
consideration  and  care;  and  have  no  heart  in  comparison  for  ob- 
jects of  a  higher  and  more  excellent  nature.  They  make  the  world 
their  portion." 

But  it  was  not  long  before  the  new  Professor  discovered  that  his 
pen  was  needed  to  assist  in  carrying  forward  the  more  immediate 
practical  operations  of  the  Church,  especially  in  giving  a  new  im- 
pulse to  its  schools  of  learning. — The  Rev.  Bernard  C.  Wolff,  pastor 
of  the  Reformed  congregation  at  Easton,  impressed  with  the  un- 
satisfactory financial  status  of  the  institutions  at  Mercersburg,  had 
obtained  permission  from  his  congregation  to  be  absent  for  a  part 
of  a  3'ear  in  order  to  labor  as  agent  for  their  better  endowment. 
He  had  already  been  some  time  in  the  field,  and  wished  to  secure 
$10,000  before  he  left  it.  He  saw  in  the  Centenary  Celebration  a 
means  by  which  this  as  well  as  many  other  useful  objects  might  be 


Chap.  XIV]  an  excursion  129 

secured,  and  ho  with  others  drew  attention  to  it  in  the  Mcxsenger. 
Quick  of  discernment  and  enthusiastic  b^-  nature  and  grace,  he 
hailed  it  as  an  auspicious  omen  in  the  ecclesiastical  skies.  Dr. 
Nevin  also  saw  in  it  the  germ  of  a  movement,  which,  if  properly 
cherished,  might  be  made  to  redound  in  an  eminent  degree  to  the 
growth  and  future  prosperity  of  the  Church.  Accordingl3-  when 
he  had  finished  his  essa3's  on  Worldly-mindedness,  he  began  to 
write  for  the  Messenger  on  the  Centenary  Celebration,  in  Avhich, 
without  any  restraint  as  regards  length,  he  showed  how  it  should 
be  conducted,  explained  its  benefits,  and  proposed  in  conclusion 
that  in  connection  with  it  the  Church  should  make  a  thank-ottering 
of  $100,000 ;  half  of  whicli  should  be  given  to  the  College,  one  fourth 
to  the  Seminary  and  the  other  fourth  to  beneficiary  education  or 
other  benevolent  objects.  Thus  he  and  others  excited  interest  in 
the  proposition  of  the  Marj'land  Classis,  so  that  b}'  the  time  the 
Synod  met  in  October  following,  the  subject  had  been  pretty  well 
ventilated,  and  the  delegates  when  they  came  together  were  pre- 
pared to  vote. 

By  the  close  of  the  Summer  Term  of  the  Seminary  in  September, 
1840,  the  new  professor  had  become  tolerably  well  acquainted  with 
the  English  portions  of  the  Church,  in  Mar3'land,  Virginia  and 
Central  Pennsylvania,  which  were  regarded  as  the  more  progress- 
ive and  intelligent.  But  he  had  seen  little  or  nothing  of  that  part 
of  it  which  lay  between  the  Delaware  and  Susquehanna,  which  was 
predominantly  German,  and  by  far  the  largest  in  membership. 
Some  of  those  who  could  not  read  or  understand  its  language  re- 
garded it  as  a  benighted  region,  not  f:ir  removed  from  Cimmerian 
darkness.  Only  one  of  the  ministers  from  that  section  of  the 
State  had  attended  the  meeting  of  the  Synod  at  Chambersburg  on 
account  of  distance  and  wintry  weather,  and  the  people  had  heard 
of  the  new  professor  for  the  most  part  only  by  vague  rumors.  It 
was  therefore  thought  desirable  that  he  should  visit  p]astern  Penn- 
sylvania and  place  himself  in  a  position  to  see  it  for  liimself.  The 
Rev.  Jacob  Mayer  had  frequently  gone  over  the  ground  and  can- 
vassed it  as  agent  for  the  College  and  Seminary,  and  he  offered  to 
take  him  along  in  his  carriage  on  one  of  these  trips.  Travelling 
thus  in  a  private  conveyance  from  Chambersburg  to  Harrisburg, 
and  from  thence  through  Reading  to  Easton,  with  one  who  Avas  fa- 
miliar with  the  ground,  he  enjoyed  better  opportunities  of  seeing 
the  country  than  in  any  other  way.  John  Adams  and  Martin  Van 
Buren,  two  Presidents,  once  passed  through  it  and  admired  it  very 
much  as  an  agricultural  region  and  were  surprised  at  its  progress 


130  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1S44  [DiV.  YIII 

and  improvement ;  and  at  a  later  period,  as  Dr.  TsTevin  travelled 
over  the  same  territory-,  he  saw  not  onl}'  its  highl}'  cnltivated 
farms,  its  large  barns,  its  herds  of  cattle,  but  also  its  school-houses 
and  its  numerous,  churches. 

Before  he  started  out  on  his  trip,  it  had  been  suggested  to  him 
that  he  might  be  asked  to  speak  or  preach  in  the  German  language 
during  his  tour,  and  that  he  should  prepare  himself  to  say  some- 
thing at  least  in  that  language.  He  accordingl}'  prepared  a  Ger- 
man sermon  and  carried  the  manuscript  with  him.  It  so  turned 
out  that  the  Rev.  Thomas  H.  Leinbach  requested  him  to  preach 
for  him  in  the  old  Tulpehocken  Church  in  Berks  County,  and  he 
complied  with  his  request.  Every  body  was  pleased.  The  con- 
gregation felt  themselves  complimented  by  a  discourse  in  their 
own  language  from  one  who  had  gone  to  the  trouble  of  mastering 
it  by  his  own  diligent  study.  No  body  smiled  at  wrong  or  imper- 
fect pronunciations,  because  the}'  were  in  the  house  of  the  Lord. 
The  German  clergymen  present  ma}'  have  done  so  the  next  daj"^ 
over  their  pipes  among  themseh'es.  The  report  of  this  discourse 
had  a  happy  effect  amongst  those  who  heard  of  it  in  East  Penn- 
sylvania. It  was,  however,  to  Dr.  Nevin,  an  effort  which  he  did 
not  repeat  afterwards. 

Speaking  of  the  countr}'  through  which  he  had  travelled,  in  a 
letter  published  afterwards  in  the  Weel'h/  Messenge/)'^  he  said:  "A 
large  part  of  the  country  was  new  to  me.  It  is  surely  one  of  the 
finest  in  the  world.  Where  shall  we  find  a  country  of  the  same  ex- 
tent that  offers  a  greater  show  of  loveliness  and  strength  externally 
considered  than  that  which  spreads  out  to  the  eye  of  the  traveller 
as  he  passes  from  Harrisburg  to  Reading,  and  afterwards  through 
the  counties  of  Ijehigh  and  Northampton,  till  he  finds  himself  on 
the  banks  of  the  Delaware. 

"  The  sight  of  so  many  fine  churches,"  he  goes  on  to  sa^-,  "  scat- 
tered over  this  whole  section  of  country,  is  highly  interesting  and 
animating.  These  alone  are  an  evidence  that  the  people  to  whom 
they  belong  are  favorabl}'  disposed  to  religion.  Under  proper  di- 
rection the  same  spirit  that  prompts  them  to  bestow  so  much  atten- 
tion on  their  places  of  worship  may  easily  be  brought  to  act  with 
corresponding  liberality  and  zeal  in  support  of  all  other  interests 
of  a  I'eligious  kind. 

"  There  are  man}-  things  to  be  lamented  in  the  state  of  our 
churches  in  East  Penns3-lvania,  but  it  is  my  full  persuasion  that 
this  section  of  our  German  Church  has  been  greatly  wronged  by 
judgments  taken  from  a  wrong  point  of  obser-s'ation  on  the  part  of 


ClIAr.   XIV]  AN    EXCURSION  131 

those  who  have  not  beeuwilliiig  to  make  themselves  fully  aeqiiaint- 
ed  with  its  modes  of  thinking.  The  da^-  for  suvh  pi-ejitch'ecs,  it  is 
to  l)e  hoped,  will  soon  i)ass  away." 

The  favorable  opinion  of  the  Pennsylvania  (Jermans,  as  thus  ex- 
pressed, was  no  doubt  strengthened  by  the  interest  manifested  in 
the  institutions  at  Mercersl)urg,  and  the  willingness  on  the  part  of 
the  people  everywhere  to  unite  in  the  celebration  of  the  proposed 
Centennial  of  the  founding  of  the  Reformed  Church  in  this  country 
during  the  following  3'ear.  At  that  time  the  subject  had  been 
broached  in  the  papers  of  the  Church  as  we  have  seen;  and  it  had 
begun  to  be  circulated  through  the  churches  that  it  was  proposed 
that  they  shoidd  unite  in  making  a  thank-otfering  of  $100,000  for 
religious  purposes,  including  the  College  and  Seminary.  Twenty 
or  thirty  years  previous  to  this,  such  a  proposition  as  tliis  would 
have  met  Avith  open  opposition.  But  during  this  excursion  Mr. 
Ma3-er,  without  any  special  effort  on  his  pai't,  met  with  five  persons, 
who  volunteered  to  give  $.500  towards  the  Centennial  eft'ort,  in  case 
it  should  begjvrried  out  by  the  churches,  and  others  expressed  their 
willingness  to  act  with  similar  liberality  in  the  future,  if  the  Synod 
should  recommend  the  measure.  The  proposition  to  raise  so  large 
an  amount  of  money  at  that  time  for  the  institutions  at  Piercers- 
burg,  which  some  had  thought  would  frighten  the  whole  Church, 
was  not  regarded  as  anything  formidable.  Many  of  the  laity 
thought  it  could  be  clone. 

This  overland  trip  ended  at  Easton,  on  the  banks  of  the  Delaware, 
where  the  party  were  entertained  by  the  two  pastors  alternatel}', 
the  Rev.  Bernard  C.  WoW,  pastor  of  the  English  portion  of  the  con- 
gregation and  the  Rev.  Thomas  Pomp,  a  venerable  patriarch  in  the 
Reformed  Israel,  now  verging  on  his  three  score  and  ten  years,  still 
active  in  serving  the  German  portion  in  town  and  country-.  The}' 
were  both  representative  men  in  their  day,  admirable  and  respect- 
al)le  each  in  his  own  wa}'.  The  one  embodied  in  himself  the  old  life 
of  the  Church  in  its  best  form ;  the  other,  the  new  in  its  progres- 
sive, historical  and  practical  character.  Both  were  much  interested 
in  the  institutions  at  Mercers])urg  and  warm  personal  friends  of 
l>r.  Pvauch.  Here  Dr.  Xevin  learned  something  that  was  useful  to 
him  in  his  woik  ;  and  he  was  a  good  listener  as  well  as  a  good  talker. 
In  Mr.  Pomp's  lil)rarv  he  found  some  valua1)le  literature  bearing  on 
the  Heidelberg  Catechism,  more  pnitieulaily  Van  Alpen's  Oe- 
srfn'rhfe  iind  Literatur  <h's  Ht'idcJJH'rifaclicn  Knfi'chinDtus,  which, 
with  other  works  of  like  character  bearing  on  the  same  topic,  he  was 
lookinir  for.     He  took  it  for  irranted  that  there  was  some  ueneral 


132  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  VIII 

animus  or  spirit,  pervading  the  German  Refornied  Church  as  some- 
thing distinct  from  the  Lutheran  and  other  evangelical  churches. 
This  he  found  in  its  genial  Catechism,  in  its  historical  surroundings, 
and,  after  careful  study  of  its  fifty-two  questions  and  answers, 
preaching  on  them  all  on  one  Lord's  Day  after  another,  he  was 
enabled  to  bring  out  in  clear  and  distinct  outlines  its  meaning  or 
sense  on  the  printed  page,  as  had  never  been  done  before  in  this 
country.  To  do  this  successfully  was  a  problem  that  was  not  easy 
to  solve.  The  Reformed  ministers  and  people  knew  what  it  was, 
but  were  somewhat  at  a  loss  to  express  it.  It  was  a  matter  of 
consciousness,  a  part  of  their  life,  rather  than  of  clear  definition. 
Hence  when  it  came  to  expression  in  the  writings  of  Dr.  Xevin,  it 
was  readily  recognized  in  all  of  its  famih'  features.  The  study  of 
the  Catechism,  pre-eminent  as  a  comprehensive  form  of  sound  words 
in  the  Evangelical  Church,  had  much  to  do  in  transforming  Dr.  Nevin 
from  a  somewhat  harsh  Presbyterian  divine  into  a  broader  German 
theologian,  of  the  Calvinistic-Melanchthonian  school,  so  far  as  his 
nature  would  permit  of  such  a  change. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  ReforniL'd  Synod  met  in  the  latter  part  of  October,  1840. 
at  Greencastle,  Pa.,  not  far  from  Mercersburg,  and  about  the 
same  distance  from  Cliambersbiirg,  where  the  editors  of  the  Cliiirch 
papers  and  most  of  the  Cluirch  treasurers  resided.  All  parts  of  the 
denomination  were  well  represented,  the  advisory  members,  of  whom 
Dr.  Xevin  was  one,  being  about  as  numerous  as  those  that  were 
regular  delegates.  Rev.  Uernard  C.  Woltf  was  chosen  to  preside. 
A  general  feeling  of  hopefulness  and  confidence  seemed  to  predom- 
inate, which  presented  a  strong  contrast  to  what  prevailed  in  some 
of  the  preceding  Synods,  esi)ecially  in  the  one  that  was  held  in 
Philadelphia  in  1839.  The  dark  clouds,  which  had  hung  over  the 
Church,  and  over  the  Seminary  in  particular,  had  in  a  measure 
passed  away,  and  better  times  seemed  to  be  looming  up  under  the 
blue  sk}-  of  hope.  The  action  of  the  Synod  at  Chambersburg  in  the 
election  of  a  new  theological  professor  was  heartily  approved.  The 
matter  of  holding  a  Centennial  Celebration  during  the  following 
j'ear  occupied  much  of  the  time  of  the  Svnod,  and  every  member 
seemed  anxious  to  give  it  as  wide  and  useful  a  range  as  possible. 
In  reliance  upon  Almighty  God,  the  year  1841,  therefore,  was  set 
apart  as  a  solemn  festival  of  thanksgiving,  prayer  and  praise ; 
sermons  and  historical  discourses  were  to  be  delivered ;  the  churches 
"were  to  bring  their  thank-offerings  to  the  Lord,  and  to  unite  in  rais- 
ing $100,000  at  least  for  its  struggling  schools  of  learning,  missions, 
beneficiary  education,  or  other  objects;  subscription  books  were  to 
be  opened  in  all  the  pastoral  charges,  containing  separate  columns  for 
each  specific  object ;  the  brethren  in  the  West  were  invited  to  unite 
in  the  celebration;  a  circular  was  to  be  addressed  to  the  reverend 
fathers  and  brethren  in  the  Reformed  Church  of  the  Fatherland  to 
assist  in  observing  the  first  Centenary  of  the  existence  of  the  Re- 
formed Church  in  America;  and  a  circular  or  address  was  to  be 
sent  to  all  the  Ministers,  Consistories,  and  members  of  the  German 
Reformed  Church  in  the  United  States,  with  Christian  greeting  with 
grace  and  peace  to  all,  in  the  name  of  Christ,  on  this  interesting 
and  important  subject.  This  latter  document,  prepared  by  the  Rev. 
Daniel  Zacharias,  and  read  to  a  full  Synod,  was  ver}-  able,  and  also 
eloquent.  It  i)resented  in  a  clear  and  forcible  manner  the  propriety 
of  such  a  movement, and  earnestly  urged  all  the  people  to  take  part 

(133)^ 


134  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.   VIII 

in  it.  If  set  forth  the  duty  of  gratitude  to  God  for  the  past;  the 
importance  of  a  better  acquaintance  with  the  history-,  doctrines  and 
usages  of  the  Cliurch;  the  necessity  of  going  forward  in  building 
up  the  various  institutions  of  the  Churcli,  literary,  theological,  and 
benevolent,  calling  for  $100,000,  at  least,  to  meet  the  demands  of 
the  times  ;  but  very  properly  holding  it  "  as  the  primary  object  of 
the  celebration,  to  arouse  the  entire  Church  from  Dan  to  Beersheba, 
to  awaken  an  increased  attention  to  vital  godliness,  and  to  raise  a 
more  elevated  standard  of  Christian  piet}'  and  responsibility  among 
us  as  a  people." 

This  message  went  down  from  the  Synod  to  the  congregations, 
and  was  everywhere  received  w^ith  attention  and  respect.  Subscrip- 
tion books  were  opened  in  paf^,oral  charges  generall}',  and  such 
simple  agencies  were  made  use  of  as  seemed  necessary  to  allow  the 
movement  to  have  free  course  and  spontaneous  action  among  the 
people.  The  remainder  of  the  year  was  thus  occupied,  in  earnest 
thought  and  reflection,  so  that  all  things  might  be  ready  for  active 
operation  at  the  opening  of  the  coming  year.  In  the  Weekly  Mes- 
senger for  the  8th  of  January,  we  according!}'  find  indications 
already  of  active  operations.  In  the  congregation  at  Easton  a  ser- 
vice had  been  held  in  the  German  and  English  languages,  and  after 
a  brief  address  b}-  Rev.  Mr.  Mayer,  the  agent  of  the  Seminary,  $1200 
had  been  subscribed  by  fourteen  individuals,  with  the  prospect  of 
a  large  increase,  as  others  should  make  their  larger  or  smaller  con- 
tributions. From  North  Carolina  the  Rev.  John  G.  Fritsche}' 
writes,  that  although  the  churches  in  his  Classis  were  for  the  most 
part  feeble,  j^et  he  expected  that  the  people  of  his  charge  would 
raise  at  least  one  thousand  dollars ;  and  the  Rev.  John  Casper  Bucher 
says,  that  his  Consistory  in  Middletown,  Md.,  had  pledged  them- 
selves for  $4', 000,  one-half  of  which  had  already  been  subscribed ; 
and  that  some  other  congregations  in  the  Classis  might  or  could  do 
more. 

At  Mercersburg  a  very  enthusiastic  meeting  had  been  held 
under  the  direction  of  the  Classis,  at  Avhich  quite  a  number  of  gen- 
erous contributions  were  made.  Dr.  Ranch  pledged  himself  for 
$500,  and  Professor  Budd  for  the  same  amount.  Others  in  the  con- 
gregation and  on  the  outside  subscribed  also  liberally.  The  ladies 
in  the  Presbyterian  congregation  had  nearly  raised  the  money  for  a 
scholarship  of  $500  in  Marshall  College;  on  the  Reformed  side,  the 
ladies  were  trying  to  do  the  same  thing ;  and  twenty  students  in  the 
Institutions  had  engaged  to  raise  $25  each  in  five  j'ears  to  complete 
a  scholarship  of  their  own.     Dr.  Nevin  gave  $1,000  for  himself  and 


Chap.  XV]  the  centennial  celebration  135 

famih',  which  was  probabh"  the  largest  amovint  contributed  during 
the  Centennry  year.  He  tliought  tlie  whole  sum  wouhl  not  fall  short 
of  $^,000,  and  was  confident  that  it  would  in  the  end  be  much  larger. 
Thus  the  festal  year  was  opened,  and  it  may  be  said  that  it  re- 
tained its  cliaracter  as  such  throughout.  It  was  formally  closed  on 
the  25th  of  December,  in  all  the  churches  as  a  general  Tlianlcsgiving 
Day,  on  whicli  devotional  services  M-ere  held  early  in  the  morning, 
and  a  suitable  sermon  preached  afterwards  at  11  o'clock  A.  M.  As 
some  of  the  congregations  were  prevented  by  circumstances  from 
taking  part  with  the  rest  in  the  celebration  during  the  year,  it  was 
extended  over  another  j'ear,  which  was  not  without  its  good  effects. 
Much  seriousness  and  earnestness  were  infused  into  this  movement 
throughout:  it  was  therefore  successful  and  spoke  for  itself.  Most 
probably  over  $100,000  were  subscribed  by  the  Reformed  people 
during  the  3'ear,  although  for  various  reasons  a  considerable  amount 
Avas  never  paid  in  as  is  usual  in  such  cases.  The  largest  portion 
w^as  given  for  scholarships  in  the  College,  but  everj^  public  interest 
in  the  Church  was  benefited,  including  her  two  weekly  papers, 
English  and  German,  which  took  a  new  start  and  increased  their 
circulation.  The  moA'ement  became  general  in  the  East,  where  all 
the  congregations  were  affected  by  it  more  or  less,  and  the  scattered 
congregations  in  the  West,  standing  in  no  connection  with  the 
mother  Synod  in  the  East,  felt  its  influence  also, blowing  as  a  health- 
ful breeze  over  the  mountains  from  the  homes  and  churches  in 
which  the  older  members  had  been  reared  in  their  ^-outh.  Xo  such 
an  uprising  in  the  Reformed  Church  had  ever  occurred  before. 
Under  all  the  circumstances  it  was  something  remarkable,  fully  jus- 
tifying the  good  opinions  of  the  GermaHS,  as  expressed  b^^  Dr. 
Xevin,  that  the  "  people  to  whom  so  mau}^  fine  churches,  and  barns 
also,  belonged  were  favorabl}^  disposed  to  religion ;  and  that  under 
proper  direction  the  same  spirit  that  prompted  them  to  bestow  so 
much  attention  on  their  places  of  worship  ma}^  easil}'  be  brought 
to  act  with  corresponding  liberality  and  zeal  in  support  of  all  other 
interests  of  a  religious  kind."  This  Centenary  Year  was  a  memora- 
ble one  in  the  history  of  the  Church,  was  in  fact  an  epoch,  and  the 
beginning  of  a  new  and  prosperous  period.  For  a  number  of  A'ears 
there  had  l)een  more  or  less  division,  doubt  and  uncertainty  in  the 
Church,  and  a  serious  want  of  confidence.  At  the  beginninii;  of  the 
year  1840  lowering  clouds  hung  over  the  Seminary  and  the  skies 
seemed  to  be  the  darkest.  By  the  end  of  the  next  year  confidence 
and  unity  had  been  restored,  and  never  before  had  the  future  ap- 
peared so  promising. 


136  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  VIII 

Under  these  circumstances  the  Centennial  j^ear  closed  amidst 
general  rejoicings  and  thanksgivings  in  the  churches,  on  which  oc- 
casion the  following  h^ann  was  sung,  prepared  for  the  occasion  by 
Mrs.  Lydia  Jane  Peirson,  the  sweet  singer  of  Tioga  County,  Pa., 
the  Authoress  of  the  "  Forest  Minstrel  "  and  "  Forest  Leaves  :" 

Thou  who  art  enthroned  in  Gloiy, 

Crowned  with  love  and  robed  in  Grace, 

Let  us  humbly  bow  before  Thee, 
Oif'ring  up  our  songs  of  praise. 

Mighty  God  and  gracious  Saviour  ! 

Spirit  of  enduring  grace, 
Come  in  thine  especial  favor 

With  Thy  Glory  fill  this  place. 

See  the  Star  whose  rising  splendour 

Heralded  a  Saviour's  birth. 
Now  in  its  meridian  grandeur, 

Smiles  upon  the  joj'ous  earth. 

Heart  and  hand  and  effort  blending 

In  its  radiance  now  we  meet ; 
And  our  mingled  prayers  ascending 

Seek  Thee  on  Th}^  mercy-seat. 

We  would  celebrate  the  changes, 

Which  a  Hundred  Years  have  made, 
Since  our  fathers — poor  and  strangers — 

Sought  the  Western  forest  shade. 

From  Helvetia's  vine  clad  mountains 

Came  a  little  friendless  band  ; 
By  the  rich  Ehine's  infant  fountains 

Others  left  their  fatherland. 

Thou  went  with  them  o'er  the  ocean 
To  those  wilds  where  freedom  stray'd, 

'Neath  her  bowers,  with  true  devotion, 
First  these  grateful  pilgrims  pray'd. 

Here  the  little  vine,  increasing, 

Spread  its  branches  green  and  fair  ; 
Now,  by  Thine  especial  blessing. 

See  how  wide  Thy  vineyards  are. 

Humble  are  the  gifts  we  offer, 

Bless  them  in  Thy  grace  divine ; 
Thou  wilt  not  despise  the  proffer, 

Thouffh  the  universe  is  Thine. 


Chap.  XV]  the  centennial  celebration  137 

Make  our  gifts  :i  rich  oblation, 
Many  a  niourninfj  heart  to  cheer; 
♦  While  the  light  of  Thy  salvation 

Yields  each  penitential  tear. 

Let  our  Institutions  flourish, 

Sending  forth  a  pious  band, 
With  the  words  of  life  to  nourish 

All  who  hunger  through  the  land. 

Zion  spreads  her  hands  before  Thee ; 

Come,  and  in  her  temples  reign. 
While  wc  give  all  praise  and  glory 

To  the  Triune  God. — Amen. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

BUT  just  as  the  Centennial  movement  had  been  started  under 
the  most  favorable  auspices,  and  the  Church  as  a  whole  had 
caught  a  new  inspiration,  the  destroying  angel  came  in.  Dr.  Ranch, 
upon  whom  so  much  was  built  and  from  whom  so  much  was  reason- 
abl}'  expected,  took  sick  and  died  at  his  post  at  Mercersburg,  on 
the  2nd  of  March,  1841.  It  was  a  severe  blow  to  the  friends  of  the 
Institutions  generally,  and  to  none  more  so  than  to  Dr.  Xevin.  Never 
before  did  the  ways  of  Providence  appear  to  all  concerned  more 
strange  and  mysterious  than  in  the  death  of  the  first  President  of 
Marshall  College.  In  the  fall  of  1840,  it  had  become  apparent  that 
his  physical  and  mental  energies  had  been  overtaxed,  and  tliat  his 
strength  was  ftxiling.  He,  however,  was  still  young  in  j-ears,  and  it 
was  difficult  to  believe  that  the  end  of  his  career  was  so  near  at 
hand.  But  as  he  was  about  to  begin  the  preparation  of  his  treatise 
on  Christian  Ethics  for  the  press,  he  was  confined  to  the  bed  from 
which  he  never  rose  again. — He  was  stricken  doAvn  just  at  a  time 
when  his  presence  in  the  College  seemed  to  be  most  needed,  and 
his  loss,  tragic  in  appearance,  seemed  to  all  alike  irreparable.  It 
was  a  sad  day  to  the  professors  and  students  when  the}'  came  to 
realize  the  fact  that  Dr.  Ranch,  the  amiable  Christian  gentleman, 
the  polished  scholar,  the  profound  philosopher  and  theologian,  and 
the  paternal  President  of  Marshall  College,  was  no  more.  A  similar 
feeling  of  profound  sorrow  pervaded  the  community  and  the  Church 
generally,  when  his  unexpected  death  was  announced  through  the 
public  papers.  His  funeral  was  largely  attended,  and  many  spoke 
with  tears  in  their  eyes  of  this  sad  visitation  of  divine  Providence. 
It  was  still  cheerless  winter,  and  the  skies  which  were  of  a  leaden 
hue  seemed  to  S3'mpathize  with  the  occasion,  and,  as  we  approached 
the  grave,  in  a  gentle  shower  of  rain  to  shed  down  their  own  drops 
of  grief  He  was  buried  on  the  College  ground,  in  the  midst  of  a 
grove  of  venerable  oaks,  where  the  winds,  during  summer  and  win- 
ter blowing  mournfully  through  the  trees,  seemed  to  sing  his  sad 
requiem. 

In  the  course  of  time  his  remains  were  removed  to  Lancaster, 
where  they  now  repose  in  the  college  plot  in  the  Lancaster  Ceme- 
tery. It  was  thought  that  their  most  appropriate  resting  place 
should  be  under  the  shadow  of  the  College  which  he  loved  so  well. 

(138) 


ClIAV.  XVI]  SKETCH    OF    DR.    RAUCH  139 

All  iipiiropiiate  inoiiunuMit  was  erected  to  his  memory  in  tlie  Col- 
lege cami)us  Ity  the  Alumni  of  the  College  and  other  admiring 
friends.  On  one  side  of  the  shaft  in  a  recess  he  is  represented  as 
sitting  in  his  study  with  his  books  around  him,  burning  the  mid- 
night oil,  still  studying  the  phenomena  of  mind,  with  a  Bible  before 
him.  On  the  other  side  is  a  hemisphere,  just  rising  out  of  chaos, 
representing  Europe  and  America  on  its  surface,  in  which  the  Old 
and  New  Worlds  are  united  in  one  and  the  same  view,  whicli  serves 
as  an  illustration  of  his  Anglo-German  philosophy. 

In  the  year  1881,  a  fellow  countryman,  a  youthful  studiosus  from 
Berlin,  meditating  at  his  "grave,  composed  his  funeral  dirge  from 
wliicli  wo  here  extract  a  few  of  the  introductory  verses  : 

Has  tuas  inferias  vates,  Frederice,  fidelis, 

Hjtc  tibi  pro  meritis  munera  solvo  tuis ; 
Quandoipiidem  viridi  nobis  te  sustulit  aev  o, 

Qua*  nihil  egregium  mors  sinit  esse  diu 
Flere  tuos  obitus  juljet  illud  amabile  quondam 

Nunc  interrupta'  ftedus  amicitia?. 
Namtpie  etiani  tumulis  suus  est  honor,  inque  sepultos 

Mens  pin  llebiiibus  testiflcanda  modis ; 
Et  mortem,  vitte  testem,  fiiiemque  laborum 

Laudibus  ornatam  convenit  esse  suis. 

Dr.  Ranch  died  literally  but  not  really,  for  he  has  continued  to 
live  in  the  affections  of  those  who  knew  him,  and  more  especially 
in  the  Institutions  to  whose  founding  he  had  devoted  the  best  en- 
ergies of  his  mind  and  heart,  and  in  which  the  intellectual  work  he 
inaugurated  continued  to  go  forward  as  before  under  his  inspiration. 
As  his  inrtuence  on  the  mind  of  Dr.  Nevin  was  considerable  in  the 
development,  more  particularly,  of  his  philosophical  views,  it  is 
proper  that  we  should  here  put  on  record  some  account  of  his  fel- 
low-l:il)orer,  on  whom  he  had  built  so  many  ex^x^ctations.  The  in- 
rtuence came  in  the  way  of  suggestion,  and  served  to  awaken  still 
more  his  riatonic  frame  of  mind. 

Dr.  Frederick  Augustus  Bauch  was  l)orn  at  Kirchbracht  in  Ilesse 
Darmstadt,  (Jermany,  July  27,  180G.  His  father  was  a  Reformed 
minister  in  the  Evangelical  Church,  with  which  he  fully  sympathized 
without  losing  his  Reformed  faith,  and  served  a  parish  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Frankfor-t-on-tlie-Main.  The  son  studied  successively  in 
the  Universities  of  >Iarburg,  Giessen  and  Heidelberg;  became  a 
lecturer  and  author,  and  was  on  the  eve  of  an  appointment  as  pro- 
fessor at  Heidelberg,  when  it  became  necessary  for  him  to  take  his 
rtight  to  America.     With  the  professors  and  students  of  the  (ier- 


140  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DlY.  YIII 

man  universities  generally,  he  was  in  sympathy  with  the  spirit  of 
free  institutions  awakened  in  the  Fatherland  after  the  Xapoleonic 
wars.  The  assassination  of  Kotzebue  by  Sand,  a  political  madman, 
in  1819,  aroused  the  suspicions  of  the  German  rulei's,  and  their  fears 
that  other  forms  of  government  might  take  the  place  of  their  own, 
which  could  no  longer  bear  the  test  of  enlightened  criticism.  As  a 
natural  result,  the  policy  of  repression  and  secret  espionage  became 
the  order  of  the  day,  especially  on  the  part  of  the  governments  that 
were  the  smallest  and  the  most  insignificant.  Many  of  the  students 
or  teachers  in  the  universities — cupidi  rerum  novarum — accord- 
ingly, were  compelled  to  take  their  flight  i^nd  seek  hospitable  homes 
in  the  United  States.  Among  the  most  distinguished  of  these  were 
Follen,  Lieber  and  Ranch.  The  last  Bientioned  was  known  to  be 
free  in  the  expression  of  liberal  sentiments,  and  as  he  was  supposed 
to  have  spoken  too  freely  on  the  subject  of  government  on  a  public 
occasion,  in  order  to  escape  imprisonment  or  some  other  public 
disgrace,  he  found  it  necessary  to  take  his  flight  to  America  in 
1831. — AVhat  was  a  loss  to  Grermany  by  such  banishments  was  much 
gain  to  our  own  country. 

In  1832  Dr.  Ranch  took  charge  of  the  High  School  of  the  Re- 
formed Church  at  York,  Pa.  In  1833  he  became  professor  of  Bib- 
lical Literature  in  the  Theological  Seminary  in  the  same  place;  and 
when  the  High  School  was  removed  to  Mercersburg  in  1835  and 
changed  into  Marshall  College  in  1836,  he  became  its  first  Presi- 
dent. He  was  eminent  as  a  linguist,  took  a  deep  interest  in  Natural 
History,  but  was  most  at  home  in  the  dift'erent  departments  of 
Philosophy  in  its  bearings  on  Christianity  and  the  Bible ;  and  this 
latter  became  to  him  more  and  more  a  specialty.  In  philosophy 
he  was  what  has  been  sometimes  called  an  idealistic  realist,  which 
he  regarded  as  the  outcome  of  philosophy  in  German^-,  France  and 
England. 

When  Dr.  Ranch  received  his  philosophical  training  in  German}-, 
the  S3'stem  of  Kant  was  already  waning;  Schelling,  Fichte  and 
Hegel  had  appeared  above  the  horizon  as  stars  of  surpassing  brill- 
ianc}-,  and  he  naturally  fell  in  with  the  reaction  against  Kant.  He, 
however,  had  faith  in  God,  in  Nature,  and  Man,  and  claimed  for 
the  human  reason  its  heaven-born  prerogatives  and  rights.  In  his 
lectures  and  writings  he  did  not  give  place  .by  subjection  for  an 
hour  to  agnosticism.  He  reverenced  Leibnitz  and  Kant  as  f:i,thers 
of  a  great  philosophic  movement  in  German}',  whose  sj-stems  had 
already  had  their  daj-,  had  been  useful  as  thej^  prepared  the  wa}' 
for  something  better,  and  therefore  were   instructive  still.     His 


ClIAI'.   XYI]  EULOOIUM    BY    1)K.    XEVIX  141 

teachers  beloniied  to  the  better  chiss  of  }IeLieli;iiis,  hut  it  is  easy 
to  see  from  his  rsychoh)jiT  that  lie  was  1»y  no  means  wedded  to 
the  dry  and  abstract  intellectiialism  of  Ileijeh  This  able  work 
shows  thi'oiighoiit  traces  of  Schelliiiii-,  Schubert  and  Stetfens  even 
more  perhaps  than  of  Hegel.  The  author  possessed  a  vivid  imagi- 
nation and  had  too  much  love  for  the  reality  of  things  to  live  in 
mere  abstractions  or  idealistic  clouds.  A  lover  and  admirer  of 
the  giants  in  German  philosophy-,  he  could  not  be  said  coriectly 
to  be  the  slave  of  any  particular  S3'stem. 

Dr.  Ranch's  philosophy,  which  in  substance  was  Avhat  in  the 
course  of  time  came  to  be  called  "  ^Fercersburg  Philosophy,"  was 
virtually  the  same  as  that  of  Carl  Daub,  one  of  his  theological 
teachers  at  Heidelberg,  who  had  mastered  all  the  S3'stems  of  phil- 
oso[)hy  as  they  rose  successively  around  him,  and  adopted  the 
good  and  the  true  in  all  of  them,  without  losing  his  faith  in  the 
liible  or  divine  things.  Tholuck  styles  him  "a  hierophant  in  the 
temple  of  knowledge,  who,  as  a  theologian  from  the  commencement 
of  his  activity  as  a  writer  in  the  si)here  of  divinity  to  the  end  of 
his  life,  ke})t  himself  perpetually  in  the  heights  of  the  i)hilosophic 
culture  of  his  time  throughout  all  its  epochs;  "  and  the  same  author 
describes  him,  according  to  Dr.  Xevin,  as  more  bold  and  daring  in 
this  respect  than  Schleiermacher,  who  contrived  to  steer  himself 
over  the  floods  with  which  he  was  surrounded,  in  the  bark  of  his 
youthful  longings,  to  the  shore,  where  the  form  of  the  Saviour  met 
him  again  in  the  light  of  childhood's  taith.  But  Daub,  in  the  spirit 
of  a  daring  Peter,  without  any  vessel,  threw  himself  into  the 
waves,  and  made  his  way  through  them,  upheld  by  his  Saviour's 
hand.  The  waters  only  served  to  wash  him  clean.  Rosenkranz 
describes  him  "as  a  genuine  Church  Father  of  Protestant  The- 
olog3%  than  whom  no  theologian  could  be  more  orthodox,  while  at 
the  same  time  no  one  could  be  more  rational." 

"Dr.  Ranch,"  says  Dr.  Nevin  in  his  Eulogium,  "believed  and  felt 
tiiat  Hegel's  philosophj^  had  wrought  a  reform  in  the  whole  world  of 
mind,  especially  in  the  way  of  rightly  defining  the  true  objects  and 
proi)er  bounds  of  the  different  sciences,  and  settling  the  general 
method  by  which  they  should  be  cultivated.  Under  this  view,  it 
seemed  to  him  certain  that  the  interests  of  truth  itself  were  identified 
to  no  small  extent  with  its  authority  and  influence.  In  these  cir- 
cumstances he  felt  himself  impelled  to  attempt  the  work  of  transfer- 
ring in  some  measure  into  the  literature  of  this  countrv,  not  iregel's 
l)hilosophy  as  such,  noi'  tlic  metaphysics  of  Germany  as  a  distinct 
an<l  separate  interest,  but  the   life  and    power  of  (Jennan   thinking 


142  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

generally,  under  its  more  recent  forms,  in  all  that  relates  to  the 
phenomenology  of  the  soul.  He  was  at  home  in  the  philosophy  of 
Great  Britain  as  well  as  in  that  of  his  own  countrj',  and  knew  ac- 
curately the  points  of  contact  and  divergenc}^  bj'  which  the  rela- 
tions of  the  two  systems  to  one  another,  generally  considered,  are 
characterized. 

"  He  knew  that  a  simple  transfer  of  German  thought  into  English 
forms  of  expression  was  not  what  the  interests  of  learning  required 
in  this  country ;  but  that  it  is  only  by  being  reproduced  in  new 
creations,  from  a  mind  transfused  with  their  inward  power  and  at 
the  same  time  at  home  in  the  American  element  of  thought,  that 
they  can  be  expected  to  become  truly  and  permanently  valuable. 
The  idea  of  such  a  reproduction  of  the  moral  wealth  of  Germany, 
under  forms  intelligible  and  safe,  in  the  sphere  of  our  American 
philosophy,  may  be  considered  perhaps  the  favorite  dream  of  Dr. 
Ranch's  life.  It  animated  him  in  his  work  as  a  teacher.  It  stimu- 
lated his  zeal  as  a  writer.  His  work  on  Psychology  was  only  the 
beginning  of  what  he  had  in  contemplation  to  attempt  in  this  way 
for  the  interests  of  literature.  In  his  own  jiidgment  much  more 
important  than  this  work  was  to  have  been  his  Christian  E tines ; 
and  to  make  the  conception  more  complete,  the  Moral  Philosophy 
was  to  be  succeeded  by  a  treatise  on  jEsthetics.  It  was  only  when 
all  should  be  brought  out,  that  he  expected  the  true  character  of 
the  i)rimar3'  work  to  be  fully  seen. 

"The  religioHS  views  of  Dr.  Ranch  may  be  characterized  as  having 
been  spiritual  as  well  as  sound.  His  orthodoxy  did  not  rest  in  the 
dead  letter,  neither  did  it  stop  where  the  fancied  superior  illumina- 
tions of  some  that  affect  to  despise  the  letter  is  found  to  stop,  in 
the  mere  speculative  faculty-  as  such.  This  he  regarded  as  the  es- 
sence of  neology ;  and  because  it  appeared  to  him  that  much  of  our 
theology  rested  upon  no  deeper  ground  than  this,  he  considered  it 
to  be  in  principle  unsafe,  needing  only  a  suitable  change  of  circum- 
stances, to  be  seen  vanishing  ultimately  into  thin  air.  Truth  with 
him  was  something  vastly  deeper,  which  could  be  appreciated  onh' 
by  entering  into  the  life  of  its  possessor.  Thus  was  the  invisible 
felt  to  be  real,  while  the  outward  and  sensilde  might  be  regarded 
but  as  the  shadow  projected  from  it  on  the  field  of  space.  Innumer- 
able analogies,  adumbrations  and  correspondencies,  not  obvious  to 
common  minds,  seemed  to  be  present  habitually  to  his  view,  bind- 
ing the  universe  into  one  sublime  whole,  the  earth  reflecting  the 
heavens  and  the  waves  of  eternity'  echoing  on  the  shores  of  time. 

"  There  was,  perhaps,  in  this  respect,  a  dash  of  mvsticism  in  his 


CiiAP.  XVI]  EUL(Min:M  hy  dr.  nevin  143 

constitution.  And  yet,  ijcfluips  not,  or  :it  least,  if  sufh  a  linl)it  be 
inystieisui,  it  may  l)e  a  question,  whether  it  be  after  all  so  bad  a 
thing  as  is  sometimes  inui<2:ined.  Our  philosophy  and  religion  in 
this  country  would  both  prol);ibly  gain  something  if  the}'  looked 
less  to  the  outward  and  more  to  the  inward.  Olshausgn  was  Dr. 
Kauclrs  favorite  connnentator  on  the  Scriptures,  and  he  is  counted 
commonly'  to  be  somewliat  mystical.  lUit  what  morally  healthy 
man  would  exchange  the  fresh  rotund  life,  with  which  he  is  here 
met,  for  the  cold,  clear,  skeleton-like  abstractions,  that  grin  \ipon 
him  from  a  different  sphere,  in  the  exposition  of  a  Grotius,  a  Rosen- 
mueller  or  a  ^facKnight?  We  are  too  apt  in  this  country  to  smile 
at  the  facility-  with  which  the  German  makes  his  escape  from  the 
world  of  the  five  senses  to  soar  with  transcendental  flight  beyond 
the  clouds,  or  hold  communion  with  'spirits  of  the  vasty  deep,' 
which  he  finds,  or  seems  to  find,,  shoreless  and  bottomless,  in  the 
centre  of  his  very  being.  The  contemplation  on  the  other  hand 
ma^'  well  be  pardoned,  while  he  smiles  in  return  at  our  excessive 
practicalit}',  and  blesses  himself  that  he  has  not  been  formed  to 
look  at  the  i)hysically  useful  as  the  measure  of  all  good,  and  to 
value  thought  only  as  it  can  be  made  objective  in  the  shape  of 
steam,  or  turniMl  into  some  merchantable  commodity  for  the  use 
of  the  market,  liut  it  may  be  doubted  whether  in  the  end  Jn'fi  mys- 
ticism be  not  something  full  as  near  to  the  habit  of  a  well  poised 
mind  as  our  own  more  practical  scepticism.  After  all,  that  is  a 
poor  existence  which  makes  man  superior  to  superstition  onl}-  by 
annihilating  to  his  consciousness  all  that  cannot  be  reached  by  his 
senses,  and  breaking  in  fact  the  link  that  should  hold  him  in  com- 
munion wuth  the  universe  of  spirit  to  which  he  belongs. 

"  Such  in  his  life  and  general  character  was  the  late  President  of 
Marshall  College.  To  some,  possibly,  this  eulog}-  may  sound  ex- 
travagant. There  are  those,  probablj',  who  will  find  it  hard  to  l)e 
persuaded  that  so  great  a  man  has  been  among  them,  without  their 
having  been  able  to  perceive  his  presence.  It  is  so  hard  for  us  to 
understand  and  estimate  properly-  living  worth  of  a  moral  or  intel- 
lectual sort,  when  it  is  brought  home  to  our  very  doors.  Seen  at  a 
great  distance,  in  some  other  literar}-  station,  Dr.  Ranch  might 
easily  have  been  honored  b}'  some  here  as  an  extraordinar}'  man,  to 
Avliom  he  has  been  all  along  near  at  hand  onl}'  of  the  most  moder- 
ate importance  under  any  view.  Had  he  lived  five  years  longer,  he 
would  have  lifted  the  village,  with  the  College,  into  the  view  of  the 
whole  land.  Marshall  College  has  sustained  an  immense  loss  in 
his  death.     For  the  German  Church,  indeed,  in  the  present  crisis 


144  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  VIII 

in  her  history,  it  has  seemed  to  many,  that  his  life  miglit  be  held 
to  be  indispensable.  At  this  point  precisely,  when  his  whole  exist- 
ence, which  had  passed  all  needfnl  preparatory  stages,  seemed 
ready  at  length  to  reach  its  proper  intention,  by  efflorescing  and 
yielding  its.  fnll  measure  of  fruit,  we  find  it  as  it  were  touched  at 
the  core  with  a  deadly  secret  blight.  The  light  is  extinguished  in 
sudden  darkness — as  it  was,  however,  with  all  his  wish  to  live,  he 
declared  himself  read}-  to  acquiesce  in  the  divine  will,  if  it  should 
lead  to  a  different  result. 

•'  In  view  of  a  dispensation  so  affecting,  our  feelings  find  no 
proper  relief,  except  in  the  consideration  that  earth's  changes  after 
all  do  not  come  and  go  by  chance.  In  the  midst  of  all  this  vanity 
and  mockery  of  human  hopes,  unerring  wisdom,  combined  with 
infinite  goodness,  presides  over  the  whole  m^'sterious  economy  of 
life.  That  which  it  is  diflficult  or  impossible  to  understand  now, 
shall  be  rendered  easy  of  comprehension  hereafter.  Thus  we  are 
taught  to  look  upwards  and  forwards  ;  to  cease  from  man  whose 
breath  is  in  his  nostrils,  and  to  make  the  Lord  only  our  confidence; 
and  to  do  finally  with  our  might  what  our  hands  find  to  do,  know- 
ing that  the  night  cometh  certainly,  and  that  it  may  come  very 
soon,  when  no  man  can  work." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

DR.  NEVIX  with  others  took  m  comprehensive  view  of  the 
objects  to  be  reached  in  the  Centennial  Celeljration.  He 
tli<)ii<iht  that  the  Reformed  Clinrcli  should  he  studied,  not  only  in 
its  history  during  the  preceding  century,  but  by  right  back  to  its 
origin  in  Switzerland  and  Germany,  It  was  onlj^  in  this  way  that, 
as  a  branch  of  the  body  of  Christ,  it  could  come  to  a  proper  feel- 
ing of  self-consciousness,  and  be  fully  qualified  to  act  its  appropri- 
ate part  in  the  future  histor}'  of  tliis  country.  Accordingly,  he 
commenced  a  series  of  articles  in  the  Weekly  3fe!<se)u/er  under  the 
general  caption  of  the  Hcuh'Iberg  Catechism,  which,  with  some  in- 
terruptions from  time  to  time,  extended  over  a  i)eriod  of  nearly 
two  years,  from  December,  1840, to  August,  1842.  In  all  there  were 
twenty-nine  numbers  or  chapters.  They  constituted  a  brief  bnt 
comprehensive  history  of  the  Reformed  Chnrcli,  including  that  of 
the  Catechism,  from  her  beginning  in  Switzerland,  her  progress  in 
German}'  and  Holland,  and  then  during  her  Centennial  period  in 
this  country.  Properly  speaking  she  could  not  have  her  origin 
either  in  one  or  another  of  these  countries.  Whilst  the  Reforma- 
tion maj'  be  regarded  as  an  entirely  new  life  in  the  history  of  Chris- 
tianit}',  it  stood  in  the  closest  vital  connection  with  the  same  his- 
tory as  it  unfolded  itself  century  after  centur}'  from  the  time  of 
the  Apostles.  In  the  beginning,  it  was  one  and  the  same  move- 
ment tow.'irds  a  higher, a  freer  and  more  evangelical  Church  ;  l)ut  it 
included  in  it  two  ditferent  ground  tendencies,  which,  Avitli  a  con- 
scions  underlying  sense  of  oneness,  nevertheless  parted  at  the 
very  outset,  coming  into  full  opposition,  and  in  the  end  resolved 
themselves  into  two  distinct  communions  or  confessions.  The  one 
gathered  around  Maitin  TiUther  :ind  Wittenberg ;  tlic  other  cnme 
to  its  expression  first  in  the  free  atmosphere  of  Switzcrhind  ;  but 
the  outburst  of  the  same  great  movement  in  different  lands  was  so 
nearly  simultaneous  in  France,  England,  Scotland,  Holland  nnd 
(Jermany,  that  it  would  be  unhistorical  to  claim  for  it  any  merely 
national  rise. 

A  considerable  number  of  the  articles,  nominally  on 'the  Cate- 
chism, consists  of  vivid  sketches  of  the  colossal  figuies  of  the  great 
Reformers  on  the  Reformed  side,  each  in  connection  with  iiis  own 
l>articular  work.     First  and  foremost    stands   Ulric   Zwinuli.   who 

(145) 


146  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1S44  [DiV.  YIII 

set  Switzerland  on  fire  witli  liis  fervid,  bnrnino;  eloqnence,  a,nd  liis 
zeal  for  the  Word  of  the  Lord.  He  -was  carried  from  the  field  of 
battle,  prohahly  before  he  had  arrived  at  the  matnrit}'  of  his  strength 
or  wisdom.  On  this  aeeonnt  his  view  of  the  Lord's  Snpper  came 
to  be  identified  snbseqnently  with  a  rationalistic  doctrine  called 
after  his  name,  bnt  which  was  derived  from  a  different  sonrce.  On 
this  point  Dr.  Xevin  did  not  do  full  justice  to  Zwingli  at  the  time, 
representing  him  as  not  having  a  proper  sense  of  the  mystery  of 
the  Saviour's  presence  in  the  Eucharist.  In  subsequent  years, 
after  a  more  thorough  examination  of  the  subject, he  corrected  this 
impression,  whic'i  he  had  received  from  old  books,  and,  with  Dr. 
Ebrard,  he  on  good  grounds  rescued  the  memory  of  Zwingli  from 
the  rationalistic  tendency  with  which  it  had  become  identified.  In 
other  respects,  through  a  number  of  long  essays,  in  masterly  style, 
he  describes  Zwingli,  the  Swiss  hero  of  faith,  as  rising  far  above 
the  men  of  his  day,  much  as  his  native  mountains  shoot  up  beyond 
the  surrounding  plains  of  Europe.  Comparing  him  with  Luther 
he  says : 

"We  may  allow  that  Luther, historically  considered,  forms  a  more 
important  link  than  Zwingli,  in  the  complicated  chain-work  of  the 
Reformation.  We  may  allow  that  as  an  organ  he  embodied  more 
full}^  than  the  other  the  idea  which  it  was  the  effort  of  the  age  to 
embody  in  this  great  revolution.  The  living  spirit  of  the  Reforma- 
tion individualized  itself  in  his  person  under  its  most  vital  and 
characteristic  form.  But  w^e  are  by  no  means  authorized  to  refer  it 
as  a  whole  to  his  authority  and  example.  On  the  contrar}-,  mighty 
forces  wrought  for  the  production  of  this  revolution,  which  stood 
in  no  connection  with  his  person.  The  Reformation  in  Switzerland 
in  its  origin  was  independent  of  the  Reformation  in  Saxony,  and  in 
a  certain  sense  anticipated  it  in  point  of  time. 

"  Nothing  can  be  clearer  than  the  fact,  that  Zwingli  was  brought 
sooner  than  Luther  to  perceive  the  rottenness  of  the  papacy  as  a 
S3'stem,  and  to  feel  the  necessity-  of  a  reformation,  that  should 
shake  it  to  the  centre.  As  early  as  1516  at  least,  his  testimony 
against  the  gross  abominations  of  [)opery  and  the  errors  of  the  age 
was  uttered  at  Einsiedlen,  loud  and  clear,  when  as  yet  all  was  com- 
paratively quiet  at  Wittenberg.  The  idea  of  a  general  Reforma- 
tion had  fixed  itself  early  in  his  thoughts  and  desires ;  and  the 
consciousness  of  being  himself  called  of  God  to  labor  for  this  ob- 
ject wrought,  as  it  w^ould  seem,  strongl}^  and  steadily  in  his  soul. 
Instead  of  following,  Zurich  went  before  Wittenberg. 

"  Luther,  indeed,  was  one  of  the  last  men  to  act  with  plan  or 


("IIAP.   XVII]  TIU:    IIKIPELBEIKi    CATECHISM  14T 

foresiglit  in  such  :i  case.  Tlio  Refonnatioii  with  him  was  anytliiiio- 
l)iit  a  luattt'T  of  caleuhitioii  or  systematic  arrangement.  In  thi- 
synii)licity  of  his  heart,  he  involved  himself  in  a  quarrel  with 
Rome,  without  dreamiHi;  (jf  the  consequences  to  which  it  would 
lead.  He  was  the  unconscious  oruan  of  a  spirit,  the  depth  of 
which  he  had  himself  no  power  to  fathom,  and  herein  precisely  lies 
his  highest  (lualitications  for  the  work  to  which  he  was  called. 
With  more  insight  into  his  own  position  there  would  have  been 
less  authority.  From  the  beginning  Zwingli  more  fully  undei'stood 
the  meaning  of  the  work  in  which  he  was  engaged.  This  may 
have  l)een  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  (jround  of  his  spiritual  activity 
was  not  of  the  deepest  kiiul.  But  be  that  as  it  nuiy,  the  result 
was  calculation  and  method,  and  l)usiness-like  action  from  the  first, 
which  caused  the  Reformation  in  Switzerland,  all  along,  to  l)e  a 
sejjarate  and  independent  work,  far  more  than  the  consequence  in 
any  sense  of  the  changes  which  were  taking  place  in  the  North."' 
In  these  sketches,  as  a  matter  of  course,  Luther  could  not  occupy 
much  space  or  aj)pear  in  prominent  outline  on  the  Reformed  side 
of  the  Reformation,  but  every  now  and  then  we  catch  glimpses  of 
his  truly  heroic  character.  He  did  not  a})prove  of  the  policy  of  hold- 
ing the  Conference  at  Marburg,  went  to  it  reluctantly,  oidy  at  tlic 
uigent  entreat}'  of  the  Landgrave,  Philip  of  Hessia,  and  when  he 
made  his  appearance  there  he  did  not,  in  all  respects,  appear  to  ad- 
vantage. He  probably  thought  so  himself  when  he  took  sick  at 
night  on  his  way  back  to  Saxony.  Some  indication  of  a  feeling  of 
this  kind  showed  itself  after  he  got  home  to  his  dear  wife,  Katrina, 
when  he  hurled  back  his  Parthian  arrow  at  the  Swiss  Reformers. 
"  The  Sacranu'utarians,"  he  says  when  he  stood  once  more  on  his  own 
soil  at  Wittenberg,  "boast  of  having  beaten  me  at  Marburg,  which 
is  after  tlicir  fashion.  For  they  are  not  only  liars,  but  deceit  and 
falsehood  itself,  as  both  Cailstadt  and  Zwingli  have  shown  in  deeds 
as  well  as  words."  Zwingli  by  the  side  of  his  wife,  Anna,  perhaps 
smile(l.liut  in  his  devotions  wejjt.  A})art  from  the  conciliatory  ar- 
ticles drawn  up  at  the  close  of  the  Conference,  showing  that  the 
Reformers  agreed  on  all  points  except  one,  the  Reformed  appeared 
to  the  best  advantage  to  outsiders  or  lookers  on.  and  they  probabl}- 
wcnt  home  with  the  better  conscience.  But  it  would  be  doing 
Lilt  Ik  rand  the  cause  of  truth  great  injustice  to  suppose  that  he  ex- 
iijliilcd  only  a  certain  native  dogged  stubbornness  on  this  great  oc- 
casion. He  believed  that  lie  had  a  momentous  truth  to  sn|)port,  in 
wlii(  h  he  was  right,  just  as  Zwingli  and  his  friends  firmly  believed 
they  were  right   from  their  stan<l-point.     Both  sides   adhered    too 


148  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1S4()-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

closel}-  to  the  letter  of  Scripture.  The  time  for  an  inward  recon- 
ciliation of  their  differences  had  not  yet  arrived.  The  age  must 
first  advance  in  culture,  and  the  Reformers  or  their  disciples  must 
fii'st  come  to  a  deeper  comprehension  of  the'Gospel  itself.  Luther, 
howeA'er,  notwithstanding  appearances,  was  trul}^  great  at  Marburg, 
and  this  T)r.  Nevin,  even  at  this  early  period,  did  not  fail  to  see. 

"Whatever  we  may  think,"  he  writes,  "of  the  false  position  in 
which  Luther  stood,  when  he  could  make  so  much  of  the  difference 
between  his  o))ponents  and  himself  in  this  case,  exaggerating  the 
point  in  debate  beyond  all  reason,  at  the  expense  of  all  charity  and 
peace;  still,  it  must  be  admitted,  that  under  another  aspect,  it  ex- 
hibits his  character,  in  a  point  of  view,  which  is  truly  sublime. 
What  a  triumph  of  principle,  (for  in  Luther  it  u'a8  principle),  over 
against  all  the  whisperings  of  expediency !  Not  even  to  save  the 
Reformation,  when  Pope  and  Emperor  are  binding  themselves  to- 
gether for  its  overthrow,  will  he  budge  one  inch  from  his  place,  at 
the  expense  of  conscience.  His  fhith  in  God  is  to  him  more  than 
the  whole  world  besides.  Let  prince  entreat  or  scold,  he  heeds  it 
not.  The  friendship  of  the  Landgrave  has  for  him  no  weight. 
Even  the  tears  of  Zwingli  cannot  make  him  move." 

Sometimes  in  unhappy  controversies  in  the  Church,  a  la^-man, 
like  a  certain  woman  in  Jewish  history,  with  her  piece  of  mill-stone, 
looms  up  and  shows  more  wisdom  as  well  as  a  better  appreciation 
of  the  necessities  of  the  occasion  than  the  clergy-  themselves.  So 
it  was  with  Philip  of  Hessia,  a  prince  and  a  statesman.  He  was 
filled  with  the  deepest  anxiety  for  the  ark  of  the  Lord  as  well  as 
for  the  peace  of  the  country,  and  he  did  what  he  could  to  promote 
the  unity  of  the  Church  in  the  Fatherland,  in  his  day  and  genera- 
tion. His  well-meant  effort  in  this  direction  was  only  partially 
successful  at  Marburg ;  but  it  was  a  step  in  advance,  which  was 
followed  three  centuries  afterwards  with  better  success. 

"It  seemed  to  him  that  there  was  no  good  reason  for  so  much 
heat,  between  those  who  had  split  on  this  dark  question  only, 
whilst  in  all  other  respects  their  A'iews  of  truth  were  essentially 
the  same.  His  own  large  and  noble  spirit  carried  him  high  above 
the  prejudices  with  which  he  was  surrounded,  and  to  his  clear  vision, 
at  the  same  time,  the  melancholy  consequences  to  which  the  strife 
might  be  expected  to  lead,  stood  clearly  revealed  from  the  begin- 
ning. Evangelical ^wot  Lutheran,  the  latter  a  designation  first  used 
in  the  way  of  reproach  by  the  enemies  of  the  Reformation,  was 
the  title  by  which  Philip  wished  the  entire  Protestant  communion 
to  be  distinguished.     In  view  of  the  imminent  danger  to  which  the 


CHAl'.   XVII]  THE    11EIDELI5ER({    CATECHISM  149 

whole  iiitciost  wiis  now  coinino:  to  be  exposed,  he  felt  th:it  almost 
eveiything-  depended  on  a  reconciliation  of  the  parties,  whom  this 
controversy  had  put  so  far  asunder,  and  whom  it  now  seemed  to  be 
driving-  still  further  from  one  another,  the  longer  it  lasted.  For 
never  had  it  been  prosecuted  with  so  great  bitterness  and  violence 
as  just  at  this  time,  when  the  external  relations  of  the  Church  were 
calling  so  loudly  for  harmony  and  peace.  It  occurred  to  Philip, 
therefore,  that  the  only  hope  of  ending  the  contest  would  be  in 
bringing  the  leaders  of  V)oth  parties  together  in  the  way  of  an 
an)ical)le  conference.  The  design  was  great  and  noble,  inasmuch 
as  it  contemplated  a  work  of  peace  and  love,  on  so  large  a  scale, 
in  the  face  of  so  many  ditticulties,  and  in  the  midst  of  conditions 
so  critical  for  the  honor  of  religion,  and  the  safetj'  of  the  entire 
Protestant  cause.    At  the  same  time,  however,  it  was  full  of  hazard." 

The  series  of  articles,  which  we  have  been  here  considering,  con- 
tain also  interesting  sketches  of  Leo,  BuUinger,  ¥arel  and  Calvin, 
in  their  historical  work,  followed  by  a  succinct  history'  of  the  for- 
mation of  the  Heidelberg  Catechism  in  the  Palatinate  by  Freder- 
ick, the  Pious,  in  1563,  its  spread  and  influence  in  German}',  Hol- 
land and  other  countries  of  Euroi)e  as  well  as  in  this  country.  As 
a  matter  of  right  the  colossal  figure  of  Calvin  rises  in  the  as- 
scendant  after  the  death  of  Zwingli,  and  his  influence  is  ever^'- 
where  felt  in  Reformed  countries.  The  articles  on  the  Sacrament- 
arian  controversy  are  of  much  value.  Under  its  first  form  this 
controA'ersy  had  iu  a  measure  passed  away,  but  in  Calvin's  time  it 
broke  out  with  new  violence,  ^et  with  ijetter  results.  Calvin  had 
signed  the  Augsburg  confession  as  explained  by  its  author,  and 
his  view  advancing  bcAond  that  of  Zwingli  did  not  differ  essenti- 
ally from  that  of  Melanchthon  himself.  At  this  early  day  Dr.  Xevin 
fully  endorsed  it  ex  aninio,  which  showed  that  he  had  brought  it 
with  him  from  the  Presbyterian  Church,  where  it  had  become,  in  a 
great  measure,  obsolete. 

The  articles  on  the  Catechism,  appearing  during  a  long  festal 
l)eriod  iu  the  Church,  produced  the  most  happy  impression.  Other 
correspondents  began  to  write  for  the  Messenger  on  kindred  sub- 
jects. Inferior  catechisms,  which  had  come  to  occupy  the  place  of 
the  Heidelberg,  in  the  instruction  of  the  youth  in  the  congregations, 
were  set  aside,  and  this  veneral)le  symbol  Avas  invested  with  an  au- 
tlioiity  and  respect  among  ministers  and  laity  in  the  German 
Church  which  it  had  never  enjoye<l  before.  During  all  this  time 
Dr.  Xevin  was  himself  a  learner  no  less  than  a  teacher  of  others. 
After  till-  deatii  of  Dr.  Uaiu'li  it  devolved  on  him  to  preach  almost 


150  AT    MERCERSBURO    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.   VIII 

exclusively  in  the  College  Chapel  on  Sunday  morning,  and  for  the 
sake  of  s^'stem  as  well  as  for  other  reasons,  he  adopted  it  as  a  rule 
to  base  his  discourses  on  one  or  more  questions  in  the  Catechism 
until  he  had  fairly  gone  over  the  entire  ground.  It  was  in  this  w\ay 
he  mastered  this  form  of  sound  words  in  its  historical  relations 
and  bearings,  as  well  as  in  regard  to  its  contents  and  inner  substance. 
The  particular  benefit  to  himself  consisted  in  his  finding  out  what 
was  the  genius  or  inner  spirit  of  the  Church  in  whose  service  he 
was  called  to  labor,  which  qualified  him  to  be  a  laborer  that  needed 
not  to  be  ashamed.  The  old  Puritan  Life,  in  which  he  had  been 
educated,  began  to  recede  in  proportion  as  he  penetrated  the  life 
of  the  German  Reformation. 

These  essays  on  the  Heidelberg  Catechism,  longer  than  most  long 
newspaper  articles,  but  full  of  substantial  food,  were  the  first  to  be 
looked  for  each  w^eek,  and  the  first  to  be  read.  Thus  they  adT'led 
ver}'  much  to  the  interest  and  value  of  the  paper.  When  they  were 
finished  they  were  repeatedly  called  for  in  book-form,  and  in  re- 
sponse to  this  request,  Dr.  Xevin  in  1847  published  his  "History 
and  Genius  of  the  Heidelberg  Catechism,"  pp.  162,  a  brief  but  a 
most  valuable  work — multum  in  parvo.  It  is  sometimes  supposed 
that  this  A'olume  is  simply  the  republication  of  the  essays,  but  this 
is  a  mistake.  The  former  contains  a  large  amount  of  valuable  mat- 
ter which  is  not  in  the  latter,  and  the  same  remark  is  true,  vice 
versa.  The  book  opens  with  the  formation  of  the  Catechism  in  the 
Palatinate,  Germany,  in  the  year  1563,  and  then  follows  its  histor}^ 
through  its  various  channels  down  to  its  appearance  in  this  country. 
The  articles  in  the  Messenger  contained  much  valuable  historical 
matter  pertaining  to  the  Reformation,  not  found  in  the  book  which 
grew  out  of  them.  It  would  have  been  well  if  the  two  could  have 
been  combined,  so  as  to  form  a  larger  and  more  comprehensive 
volume,  and  this  might  yet  be  done  with  profit. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  volume,  the  author,  after  much  fiuthful 
study  and  reflection, and  with  much  vigor  and  originality,  all  his  own, 
pi'oceeds  to  describe  the  theology  of  the  Catechism,  its  (ecumeni- 
cal character,  its  objectivity,  its  practical  spirit,  its  freedom  from 
Pelagianism,its  reserve  in  regard  to  high  Calvinism  on  the  subject 
of  the  decrees,  and  its  ideas  of  the  sacraments  and  good  works. 
It  was  a  Calvinistic  book,  Olevianus,  a  disciple  of  Calvin, being  one 
of  its  authors,  more  particularly  as  it  regards  the  Lord's  Supper, 
the  great  question  of  the  age ;  but  it  significantly  passed  over  the 
subject  of  the  decrees,  holding  fast  to  the  doctrine  of  divine  graec, 
which    underlies  the  metaphysical  theory  of  predestination.     In 


Chap.  XVII]  the  hkidki.bkrg  catechism  151 

tbis  respect  the  symbol  showed  no  special  leaning  towards  Calvin- 
ism ou  the  one  hand,  just  as  it  avoided  the  one-sidedness  of  Ar- 
minianism  on  the  other.  This  irenical  characteristic  it  received 
from  the  German  soil  out  of  which  it  grew  through  the  influence  of 
Melanchthon,  and  we  may  say  from  the  aversion  of  German  Chris- 
tianity to  the  one-sidedness  of  the  great  dogma,  which  subsequently 
became  more  cliaracteristic  of  Calvinism  than  its  A-iew  of  the 
Eucharist,  from  which  it  originally'  started  out. 

Having  settled  in  this  general  way  the  theology  of  the  Cate- 
chism, the  writer  in  the  last  cliapter  of  the  book  proceeds  to  give  a 
sketch  of  the  genius  which  pervades  its  teachings  and  becomes  con- 
crete in  the  religious  life  of  the  churches,  that  cling  to  it  as  their 
banner,  amidst  the  contact  of  the  ages.  As  the  Reformation 
formed  no  absolute  rupture  with  the  true  Christian  life  which  pre- 
ceded it,  but  was  rather  a  legitimate  continuation  and  growth  of  it 
under  a  higher  and  more  spiritual  form,  the  Church  of  the  Heidel- 
berg Catechism,  therefore,  was  not  a  plant  of  alien  growth  in  Ger- 
many, transplanted  from  a  foreign  soil.  The  Protestant  Church,  as  al- 
read^^  said,  included  in  it  from  the  beginning  two  diverging  tenden- 
cies, closely  related,  yet  necessarily  variant,  but  not  necessarily 
hostile,  except  when  allowed  to  assert  violently  their  exclusive 
claims.  It  was  believed  by  many  sucli  broad  and  liberal  men  as 
Melanchthon,  Calvin  and  others,  that  no  rupture  was  required  on 
this  account.  The  orthodoxy  of  the  Church,  they  supposed,  might 
with  safely  make  itself  so  wide  as  to  embrace  both  forms  of  think- 
ing, in  which  expectation,  however,  to  their  great  grief,  they  were 
doomed  in  the  end  to  be  disappointed. 

"  No  rebellion  "  says  Dr.  Nevin,  "  was  intended  ngainst  the  Augs- 
burg Confession  when  the  new  Catechism  appeared  in  the  Palatinate. 
In  the  form  in  which  it  had  been  expounded  and  defined  by  Me- 
lanchthon, its  author,  all  were  willing  to  own  its  authority.  The 
Heidelberg  Catechism  was  designed  to  interpret  rather  than  to 
contradict  the  Augsburg  Confession,  and  to  explain  the  sense  in 
which  it  was  held  in  the  Palatinate.  Frederick,  the  Third,  had 
signed  it  in  its  unaltered  forms  at  Naumburg,  A.  D..  15(51,  a  short 
time  before  the  Catechism  appeared  under  his  direction  and  foster- 
ing care,  to  Avhich  subscription  we  find  him  afterwards  appenling  as 
still  valid  in  1.500,  when  called  to  account  by  the  imperial  Diet  at 
Augsburg;  and  with  sucli  success,  too,  that  his  right  to  be  recog- 
nized as  a  member  politically  of  the  Protestant  confession  was 
formally  acknowledged  Ity  this  august  body.  Ursinus,  the  principal 
author  of  the  Catechism,  moreover  was  a  devoted  disc-iplc  of  Me- 


152  AT    MEROERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  VIII 

lanclithoii  liijiiself,  tlie  niithor  of  the  Augsburg  Confession,  to  which, 
in  its  Melanchthonian  sense,  he  also  stood  sworn  as  a  teacher  in. 
Breslau.  How  in  such  circumstances  could  the  Heidelberg  Cate- 
chism be  anything  else  than  simpl}'  German  Calvinistic  or  Semi- 
Lutheran  we  may  sa>' ,  in  its  theological  constitution  and  spirit! 
In  the  midst  of  all  this  close  correspondence  with  German  Lutheran- 
ism,  the  Palatinate  Catechism  has  alwa^-s  been  recognized  as  the 
general,  distinctive,  confessional  formulary  of  the  whole  Reformed 
Church  in  German3^  A  single  fact  which  reflects  great  light  on 
its  true  character  and  spirit. 

"  The  life  which  it  embodies  is  the  life  of  the  Reformed  Church 
in  German}'  in  the  period  of  the  Reformation,  where  religion  held 
a  vigorous  hold  on  the  hearts  of  men  as  a  divine  fact,  and  before 
the  rationalistic  tendenc}',  which  attached  itself  to  Protestantism, 
had  become  strong  enough  to  make  itself  felt  in  the  general  faith. 
The  Catechism  is  itself  a  strikingly  impressive  monument  of  the  in- 
wardness and  fulness  that  characterized  the  religious  life  at  the 
time  when  it  was  formed.  Whatever  we  ma}'  think  of  the  theo- 
logical controversies  with  which  the  spirits  of  men  were  so  actively 
inflamed  on  all  sides,  it  is  quite  plain  that  the  age  was  filled  with 
the  seriousness  of  a  divine  reality  in  the  objects  of  its  faith,  such 
as  we  often  miss  in  the  exhibitions  of  later  history.  The  Catechism 
is  no  cold  workmanship  merely  of  the  understanding.  It  is  full  of 
feeling  and  faith.  The  joj'ousness  of  a  fresh,  simple,  childlike  trust 
appears  bcautifull}^,  touchingly  interwoven  with  all  its  divinity. 
It  is  only  here  and  there  that  we  feel  in  its  pages  the  presence  of 
the  war  spirit  with  which  its  origin  was  on  all  sides  surrounded. 
As  a  whole  it  is  moderate,  gentle  and  soft;  an  image  we  may  sup- 
pose of  the  quiet  though  earnest  soul  of  Ursinus  himself.  Its 
position  is  affirmative  mainly  in  its  teachings,  rather  than  negative. 

"  Such  was  the  character  of  the  Protestant  faith  generally  in  the 
sixteenth  century.  It  did  not  stand  in  mere  contradiction  to  the 
•faith  of  Rome.  It  had  large  content  of  its  own,  an  inward  inde- 
pendent life,  which  it  felt  bound  to  assert ;  and  it  was  the  assertion 
of  this  life  only,  which  threw  it  necessarily'  into  the  attitude  of 
protest  against  the  errors  of  the  ancient  church.  In  all  this,  of 
course,  there  was  no  thought  of  breaking  off  all  historical  connec- 
tion with  the  life  of  the  Church  as  it  stood  before.  On  the  contrary, 
the  sense  of  the  objective,  the  historical,  the  catholic,  and  the  al- 
waj's  enduring  in  the  Church,  as  distinguished  from  the  wayward- 
ness of  mere  private  judgment  and  individual  will,  wrought  power- 
fully on  the  whole  theology  of  the  age.     The  grand  characteristic 


ClIAP.   XVII]  THE    HEIDELBERG    CATECHISM  153 

of  the  period  w,is  its  power  to  create,  rather  than  its  power  to  de- 
stroy-, unlike  the  genius  of  the  shallow  war  which  is  now  too  often 
waged  against  Rome,  from  the  stand-point  of  mere  rationalistic 
controversy  and  denial,  which  is  strong  in  its  affectation  of  pulling 
down,  but  impotent  as  water  itself  towards  all  purposes  of  liuild- 
ing  up.  The  sixteenth  century  was  not  simply  Protestant ;  it  was 
Catholic,  Reformed  Catholic,  at  the  same  time.  So  specially,  we 
may  say,  it  was  in  Germany,  the  cradle  properly  of  the  Reforma- 
tion life.  In  this  Catholic  Church  Spirit,  the  Heidelberg  Cate- 
chism largely-  participates.  In  no  other  Reformed  sjnibol  prob- 
ably are  the  great  constituents  of  the  true  and  proiJcr  character  of 
this  confession,  liberty  and  reverence  for  authority,  the  sense  of 
the  individual  and  the  sense  of  the  general,  more  fairly  and  hap- 
pily combined. 

"A  fine  illustration  of  the  catholic,  historical  feeling  of  the  Cate- 
chism, is  found  in  the  fact  that  so  large  a  part  of  its  instructions  are 
based  upon  the  Apostles'  Creed.  In  this,  it  is  true,  it  does  but 
show  itself  conforniiTlDle  to  the  general  spirit  of  Protestanism,  in 
the  age  in  which  it  was  produced.  Xo  catechism  could  be  consid- 
ered complete,  no  confession  sound,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  with- 
out a  formal  recognition  of  this  ancient  groundwork  of  Christian 
doctrine.  The  case,  we  all  know,  has  become  lamentably  so  in  our 
later  times. 

"The  church  feeling  of  the  Catechism  appears  again  in  the  high 
account  which  it  makes  of  the  Sacraments ;  here  also  in  full  har^ 
mony  with  the  general  Protestant  spirit  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
and  in  noticeable  contrast  with  much  at  least  of  the  Protestant 
spirit  of  the  present  day.  The  Sacraments  are  held  to  carry  with 
them  an  objective  force,  although  not,  of  course,  as  an  oy;(^s  oper- 
atiim.  Their  constitution  includes  grace  for  all  who  are  prepared 
to  turn  it  to  account.  Thus  Baptism  is  not  only  a  symbol  of  the 
washing  of  regeneration,  but  a  solemn  aiithentification  of  the  fact 
itself — the  proper  body  of  the  inward  soul — in  all  cases  where  the 
requisite  conditions  of  its  presence  are  at  hand.  So  too  the  Lord's 
Supper  is  the  actual  bearer  of  a  divine  life;  the  mediatorial  life  of 
the  Son  of  God,  designated  as  His  bod^^  and  blood;  with  which  he 
feeds  our  souls  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost  unto  everlasting 
salvation  (Qu.  75).  It  is  not  a  token  merely  of  our  interest  in  the 
atonement  of  Christ,  but  serves  actually  to  unite  us  more  and 
more  to  his  sacred  body  (Qu.  70),  thus  helping  forward  that  great 
mystery  by  which  we  are  to  become  fully  like  Him  at  last  in  the 
power  of  a  common  life." 
10 


154  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-18 U  [DiV.  Till 

Dr.  Nevin  in  all  his  discussions  respecting  the  Sacraments  ad- 
hered strictly  to  the  old  chnrch  view  of  their  true  nature,  which  is 
also  scriptural;  that  they  consist  of  two  things,  the  outward  and 
inward,  the  outward  sign  and  the  invisible  grace.  When  so  regard- 
ed there  ought  to  be  no  difficulty  in  admitting  their  power  and 
efficacy.  Regarded  simply  and  abstractly  as  outward  signs,  as 
water,  bread  or  wine,  however  appropriate  such  symbols  may  be, 
they  are  no  sacraments  at  all,  and  can  have  at  best  nothing  more 
than  a  moral  and  instructive  efficacy. 

"  In  full  harmony,"  the  author  goes  on  to  say,  "with  the  Catholic 
and  Satn-amental  character  of  the  Catechism,  as  already  represented, 
'  we  find  it  to  be  churchly  also  in  all  its  connections  and  associations ; 
and  this  to  an  extent  indeed,  which  it  is  not  easy  for  us  now,  in  the 
Puritan  atmosphere  with  which  we  are  surrounded,  fully  to  per- 
ceive and  admit.  Its  proper  historical  relations  in  this  view, 
'^  particularly  as  they  are  presented  to  us  in  the  German  Church,  are 
far  enough  removed  from  that  character  of  spiritualistic  baldness,  in 
which  too  many  imagine  the  perfection  of  Protestantism  to  consist 
at  the  present  time.  They  include  the  altar,  the  organ,  and  the 
gown ;  the  church  lessons,  and  a  church  year,  Avith  its  regular  cycle 
of  religious  festivals;  repetitions  of  the  Lord's  Pra3'er  and  the 
Creed;  liturgical  services;  an  entire  order  of  worship  in  short, 
which  to  the  nostrils  of  modern  Puritanism,  it  is  to  be  feared,  would 
carry  no  small  stench  of  popery  itself  throughout.  Think  of  the 
fact  however,  as  we  may,  there  it  stands ;  and  we  must  let  it  go  for 
what  it  is  worth.  It  shows  at  least  that  the  original  and  proper 
church  life  of  the  Heidelberg  Catechism  was  something  different 
from  modern  Puritanism;  and  that  Puritan  associations  and  modes 
of  thought  are  not  exactly  the  sphere,  in  all  probability,  in  which 
this  life  is  likely  to  be  either  rightly  understood  or  fully  turned  to 
account."' 

As  an  illustration  of  the  liturgical  worship  in  the  original  Re- 
formed Churches  of  Germany,  an  account  is  given  of  the  old  Lit- 
urgy of  the  Palatinate,  published  in  the  same  year  as  the  Cate- 
chism, in  1563,  with  rubrics  for  the  different  services  on  the  Lord's 
Day,  on  Holy  Days,  week  days,  and  days  for  humiliation  and 
praj'er,  etc.  The  Preparatory-  Service  was  especially  solemn.  All 
persons  intending  to  commune  were  required  to  come  forward  and 
take  their  place  around  the  altar,  where  they  were  admonished  to 
examine  themselves  and  to  repent  of  all  their  sins.  Then  with  the 
pastor  they  were  required  to  make  confession  of  their  repentance 
and  faith  aloud,  after  which  the  pastor  pronounced  a  formal  abso- 


CHAI'.   XVII]  THE    IIKIDELBERG    CATECHISM  155 

lution  or  declaration  of  pardon  upon  all  who  were  truly  penitent, 
with  the  judgment  of  God  against  all  such  as  remained  impenitent 
and  unbelieving.  The  Liturg}-  was  literally  adhered  to  in  the  Re- 
formed churches  in  Germany  until  rationalism  came  in  and  under- 
mined Catechism  and  Agenda,  with  man}-  other  things  that  were 
valualtle  and  precious  in  the  old  church  life.  When  Dr.  Xevin  thus 
referred  to  this  liturgy  he  could  learn  of  only  one  cop3'  in  exist- 
ence at  the  time  in  this  country,  and  he  doubtless  regarded  it  as  a 
valuable  discovery  when  it  came  to  him,  raked  ui)  for  him  out  of 
the  debris  of  the  past.  Various  reflections  passed  through  his 
mind  which  he  put  on  record  during  his  investigations. 

••One  thing  is  certain,"  he  writes,  "the  German  Church  is  not 
Puritan;  and  there  is  no  good  reason  why  it  should  now  succumb 
to  Puritan  forms  or  Puritan  modes  of  thought,  from  whatever  quar- 
ter they  maj'  be  presented.  She  had  a  life  of  her  owm,  once  at  least, 
which  it  is  still  important  that  she  should  understand  and  cherish 
with  becoming  self-respect,  if,  indeed,  she  have  an}'  vocation  to  fill 
at  all  as  a  separate  independent  church.  Xot  that  Puritanism  is  to 
be  blindly  hated  and  opposed.  We  owe  it  much,  which  we  are 
bound  to  acknowledge  with  gratitude  and  affection.  Nor  yet  either 
that  we  should  fall  back  blindly  to  the  past  as  it  lies  behind  us  in 
our  own  history.  All  sudden  outward  reforms  of  this  sort,  that 
rest  upon  no  interior  necessity  in  the  life  of  the  Church  itself,areto 
be  deprecated  as  likely  to  do  more  harm  than  good.  But  it  is  muchj 
that  we  should  be  able  to  understand  and  honor  the  worth  that  ac- 
tually belongs  to  our  own  life,  so  as  to  cherish  it  and  turn  it  to  ac- 
count accordingly-;  that  we  should  not  suffer  ourselves  to  be  over- 
whelmed by  foreign  influences,  but  be  watchful  rather  to  strengthen 
thft  things  that  remain,  and  go  forward  if  not  in  the  very  track,  yet 
st  o  i"  flit,'  general  sjjirit  and  genius  at  least  of  those  good  old  paths, 
in  which  our  ecclesiastical  fathers  delighted  to  walk  in  the  age  of 
the  Reformation. 

The  Lutheran  and  Reformed  Churches  in  this  country  from  the 
beginning  stood  in  close  and  intimate  relations;  to  a  large  extent 
worshipped  together  in  union  churches;  and  after  the  union  of  the 
two  bodies  in  Germany  made  several  ineffectual  attempts  to  form 
a  union  here  also.  Whatever  movements,  therefore,  of  interest  took 
place  in  the  one  made  a  reciprocal  impression  in  the  other, and  gen- 
erally with  beneficial  results.  The  churchly  position  assumed  by 
Dr.  Xevin  at  Mercersbnrg  at  once  arrested  attention,  and  met  with 
a  friendly  response  from  the  conservative  portions  of  the  Lutheran 
dciiDUiinatiou  iiciicralh-      Tlic  editor  of  the  Lullirran  Standard  pub- 


156  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

lislied  at  Columbus,  Ohio,  on  noticing  Dr.  Kevin's  History  and 
Genius  of  the  Heidelberg  Catechism,  when  it  made  its  appearance 
in  184T,  made  the  following  among  other  remarks: 

"  Sound  views  and  a  proper  church  spirit  pervade  this  interest- 
ing volume,  and  its  influence  must  be  most  salutary  upon  the  Ger- 
man Reformed  Church.  Whatever  may  be  said  against  its  distin- 
guished author,  from  a  certain  direction,  we  cheerfully  confess,  we 
sympathize  with  him  to  a  far  greater  extent,  in  reference  to  the  sys- 
tem of  the  Catechism  and  the  Sacraments,  than  with  his  opponents, 
even  though  they  be  found  in  our  own  Church.  Our  own  sister 
Church  has  great  cause  to  be  thankful  for  having  obtained  the  valu- 
able, distinguished  services  of  their  eminent  Professors,  Drs.  JS'evin 
and  Schaff.  The  happy  influence  of  their  labors  upon  her  whole 
communion  has  already  manifested  itself  in  various  ways.  Nor  can 
it  be  denied  that  this  influence  has  also  been  largely  felt  in  various 
parts  of  our  own  Church." 


/t 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

AS  we  have  seen,  Dr.  Nevin  was  conscious  of  a  dualism  in  his  re- 
-^^J^  ligious  experiences  from  the  time  he  left  Union  College  in 
1821, which  continued  to  harass  him  more  or  less  at  Princeton, and 
for  awhile  afterwards  also  at  Alleghen3\  The  old  Reformed  faith 
or  concei)tion  of  religion  graduall}'  grew  stronger  over  against  the 
Puritan  or  Methodistic  tendency'  of  the  day ;  but  it  had  not  fully 
asserted  itself  wdien  he  left  Pittsburgh  in  1840.  That  was  brought 
about  at  Mercersburg  more  full}-  in  the  years  1842-1843  in  a  very 
practical  way  in  the  discharge  of  his  official  duties.  The  new  order 
of  religious  life  brought  in  by  the  S3stem  of  revivals  had  ver}-  little 
respect  for  history-,  and  was  very  imperious  in  its  demands  ;  not 
always  content  to  live  in  peace  with  the  old  order,  but  quite  deter- 
mined at  times  to  ignore  it  altogether,  if  not  to  tear  it  up  by  the 
roots,  Avlienever  that  was  possible.  So  it  met  Dr.  Nevin  before  he 
scarcely-  had  time  to  begin  his  work  at  Mercersburg.  For  its  te- 
merity he  gave  it  a  stern  rebuft',  and  no  longer  disposed  to  compro- 
mise, he  defined  his  position,  from  which  he  never  afterwards 
swerved.     It  came  to  pass  on  this  wise. 

The  Reformed  congregation  in  the  village  was  accustomed  to 
worship  in  a  wretched  old  church  building;  had  to  be  sui)plied 
with  preaching  by  neighboring  pastors  ;  and  at  length  it  came  to 
depend  altogether  on  Dr.  Xevin  and  the  professors  for  its  supply 
of  spiritual  food.  This  condition  of  things  appeared  to  detract 
from  the  credit  of  the  Institution  in  the  minds  of  students  as  well 
as  of  strangers,  and  Dr.  Nevin  began  to  interest  himself  in  bring- 
ing about  a  diffei'ent  state  of  affairs,  one  that  would  be  more  in 
keei)ing  with  the  location  of  the  College  and  Seminarj'  of  the 
Church.  As  a  first  step  in  advance,  he  urged  the  brethren  to  secure 
a  pastor  who  should  come  and  live  among  the  people.  A  number 
of  candidates,  accordingly,  appeared  and  preached  acceptably,  l)ut 
no  one  seemed  to  arouse  sufficient  interest  to  secure  a  cordial  or 
sufficient  financial  support. 

At  length  the  Rev.  William  Ramsey,  of  Pliiladelphia,  a  returned 
missionary  from  Ciiina,  and  at  the  time  doing  the  work  of  an  evan- 
gelist in  his  own  way  in  dilferent  parts  of  the  country,  came  to 
Mercersburg  towards  the  close  of  the  year  1842,  as  a  candidate  for 
the  vacant  congregation.     Dr.  Nevin  had  known  him  as  a  student 

(157) 


158  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

at  Princeton  Seniinaiy,  and  had  recommended  him  to  the  Consist- 
ory, no  doubt  still  somewhat  in  his  dualistic  state  of  mind,  under 
some  kind  of  an  impression  that  the  dull  people  needed  some  re- 
yiy.ilistic  fire  to  bring  them  up  to  the  full  measure  of  dut}'  and 
responsibility'.  Mr.  Ramsey'  made  a  favorable  impression,  preached 
impressive  sermons,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he  felt  that  he  was 
master  of  the  situation  ;  and  as  he  thought  he  already  had  matters 
prett}'  much  his  own  way,  he  became  more  and  more  emotional. 
On  Sunday'  evening,  without  consulting  any  one,  in  particular,  ap- 
parently on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  with  a  densel}'  crowded  house 
before  him,  he  brought  out  the  "  Anxious  Bench,"  and  invited  all 
who  desired  the  pra3'ers  of  the  Church  to  present  themselves  before 
the  altar.  A  number  of  persons,  and  amongst  others  several  el- 
clerl}^  ladies,  who  had  always  adorned  their  Christian  profession, 
obej'ed  the  summons,  and  the  result  was  what  usually  takes  place 
on  such  occasions,  an  intense  excitement  and  more  or  less  confu- 
sion. The  preacher  was  evidently  now  in  his  element  and  showed 
that  he  knew  how  to  manage  a  modern  revival  or  religious  excite- 
ment. Dr.  Nevin,  on  the  other  hand,  sat  back  in  the  pulpit,  some- 
what amazed  at  the  sudden  change  that  seemed  to  have  taken  place 
in  this  sober  old  congregation,  with  a  flushed  countenance,  but 
quietly  contemplating  the  scene  below  him.  It  helped  to  furnish 
him  with  suitable  phrases  when  afterwards  he  graphically  described 
similar  but  still  wilder  scenes  in  his  Jract  on  the  Anxious  Benclij 
to  which  this  served  as  an  introduction. 

"  Excitement,"  he  says,  "  rules  the  hoiir.  No  room  is  found  either 
for  instruction  or  reflection.  A  sea  of  feeling,  blind  and  tempest- 
UOU.S,  rolls  in  on  all  sides. — The  anxious  then  are  encouraged  to 
weep  aloud,  cry  out  and  wring  their  hands.  Now  they  are  enveloped 
in  the  loud  tones  of  some  stimulating  spiritual  song.  Then  there 
is  prayer,  which  soon  becomes  as  loud,  commencing,  perhaps,  with 
a  single  voice,  but  flowing  quickh'  into  a  sea  of  tumultuating 
sounds,  from  which  no  sense  can  be  extracted  even  by  the  keenest 
ear.  The  mourners  besiege  the  altar,  pell-mell,  kneeling,  or  it  may 
be  floundering  flat  upon  the  floor,  and  all  joining  in  the  general 
noise.  Then  may  be  heard  the  voice  of  the  preacher,  shouting- 
some  commonplace  word  of  exhortation,  which  no  body  hears  or 
regards  ;  while  at  difi'erent  points,  vague,  crude  expostulations  and 
directions  are  poured  into  the  ears  of  the  struggling  suppliants  by 
'brethren,'  now  suddenl}^  transformed  into  spiritual  counsellors, 
who  might  be  at  a  loss  themselves,  at  an}'  other  time,  to  explain  a 
single  point  in  religion.     In  due  time,  one  after  another  is  broiujhf 


ClIAI'.  XVIII]      THE    ANXIOUS   BENCH   CONTROVERSY  159 

throay/i  ;  and  thus  new  forms  of"  disorder,  shouting,  chipping  and 
so  on,  are  l)rought  into  phiy.  In  tliis  way,  the  interest  of  the  oc- 
casion, such  as  it  is,  may  be  kept  u^)  till  a  late  hour.  But  who  will 
pretend  to  say,  that  inf^lriLclion  has  heen  regarded  or  intended,  as  • 
a  lending  part  of  the  process."  The  writer  had  confronted  scenes 
like  these  in  his  previous  experience,  and  now  one  of  them  con- 
fronted him  in  his  own  church.  In  this  instance  he  was  supplied 
witli  food  for  reflection,  and  a  motive  for  some  necessary  form  of 
future  action. 

After  the  meeting  had  in  a  measure  run  its  course.  Dr.  Xevin, 
who  had  apparentl}'  been  overlooked  up  to  this  time,  was  called  on 
to  say  something,  which  he  did  \\\  his  usual  thoughtful  and  solemn 
way.  Speaking  of  the  nature  of  true  religion,  he  told  his  hearers 
not  to  imagine  that  coming  to  the  altar  in  this  public  way  was  the 
same  as  penitence  and  faith  in  Christ,  which  alone  could  give  peace 
and  rest  to  the  soul.  He  pointed  out  the  distinction  that  should 
be  made  between  the  tAvo  things,  and  warned  them  earnestly 
against  all  self-deception.  He  assured  them  that  no  amount  of 
bodily  exercise  would  profit  them  aught,  not  even  if  they  should 
creep  about  from  one  corner  of  the  church  to  the  other  until  their 
knees  were  sore  and  bleeding.  The  remarks  were  proper,  and  very 
judicious  at  this  stage  of  the  proceedings,  although  they  changed 
the  tone  of  the  meeting  considerably — very  much  for  the  better — 
and  the  people  went  home  with  a  sense  of  the  solemnity  of  religion; 
but  Mi\  Ramse3^,as  he  afterwards  remarked,  did  not  think  they  were 
altogether  suitable  to  the  occasion. 

The  people,  however,  were  aroused,  and  proceeded  immediately 
to  elect  hira  as  their  pastor,  for  the  reason,  among  others,  that  they 
could  raise  more  money  for  his  support  than  for  that  of  an}'  one 
else.  Dr.  Xevin,  even  up  to  this  point,  was  rather  in  favor  of  the 
choice  when  he  saw  the  new  interest  awakened  in  the  drowsy  old 
congregation ;  but  he  occupied  a  responsible  position  in  the  Church, 
and  thought  there  ought  to  be  a  distinct  understanding  before  the 
matter  in  hand  should  proceed  any  further.  He  looked  at  the  bear- 
ings of  this  ncAV  movement  on  the  Institutions  at  Mercersburg,  and 
the  impression  it  was  likely  to  make  on  the  Church  at  large.  Ac- 
cordingly, he  wrote  a  letter  to  his  friend  Mr.  Ramse}-,  after  he  had 
left,  informing  him  that  he  was  anxious  he  should  acee})t  the  call 
tendered  him,  but  candidly  telling  him  that  it  would  l)e  necessary, 
if  he  came  to  Mercersburg,  to  dispense  with  his  new  measuies  and 
a(loi)t  the  catechetical  system  in  vogue  in  the  Reformed  (Miurch, 
elso  lie  could  not  work  together  hai-moniouslv   with   liim,  and  he 


IGO  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  VIII 

would  be  obliged  to  stand  in  his  Avay.  This  brought  on  a  crisis, 
and  the  pastor-elect  misapprehending  the  letter,  or  not  seeing  the 
relation  of  things  out  of  which  it  sprung,  at  once  wrote  to  the  Con- 
sistory, declining  the  call,  and  assigning  Dr.  JsTevin's  letter  as  the 
reason  for  his  non-acceptance.  It  was  b}^  far  one  of  the  longest 
letters  that  we  have  ever  read,  a  diatribe  as  pungent  as  the  writer 
could  make  it,  in  which  he  belabors  his  old  friend  and  fellow  student 
at  Princeton  without  gloves,  as  he  no  doubt  supposed.  It  had  in 
it  the  appearance  of  a  large  amount  of  sanctimonious  piet^',  but  it 
also  contained  a  considerable  amount  of  bitterness;  and  was  evi- 
dently intended  to  produce  an  effect.  The  mistake  which  the  good 
man  made  was  that  he  did  not  allow  himself  to  see  that  he  was  here 
dealing  with  an  old  historical  Church  and  not  with  one  of  his  own 
new  school  order. 

The  letter  was  read  by  all  who  wished  to  see  it,  and  some  enjoyed 
it  not  a  little,  just  as  they  would  a  volley  of  artillery  thrown  into 
the  camp  of  an  enemy.  But  most  persons  were  sad  about  it.  The 
high  wrought  expectations  that  the  church  would  at  once  become 
the  largest  in  the  town  nnder  the  leadership  of  such  a  minister  from 
Philadelphia  were  dashed  to  the  ground,  and  now  what  was  to  be 
done?  Dr.  Nevin  instinctively  comprehended  the  gravity  of  the 
situation.  He  had  at  length  taken  a  decided  stand  in  favor  of  the 
old  Reformed  faith,  of  which  he  had  learned  something  in  his  youth, 
over  against  that  which  he  had  brought  with  him  from  Union 
College.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  that  the  former  should  rule  the 
latter,  and  not  the  reverse.  As  usual  he  was  pressed  into  position 
b}^  the  force  of  circumstances,  or  to  speak  more  reverently,  by  the 
guiding  hand  of  Providence.  The  good  people  of  the  congregation 
gradually  became  reconciled  to  the  loss  of  their  idol,  and  not  a  few 
outsiders  began  to  admire  the  Doctor's  heroism  and  pluck  in  stand- 
ing up  single-handed  and  alone  against  what  seemed  to  them  at  the 
time  a  perfect  tornado  of  feeling.  'Squire  Cook,  a  thoughtful  elder, 
remarked  that  as  Dr.  Nevin  was  at  the  head  of  the  Church,  he  no 
doubt  could  see  farther  than  the  members,  and  that  in  the  end  all 
would  come  out  right.  His  opinion  prevailed,  and  the  congrega- 
tion did  not  go  to  pieces  as  some  had  predicted.  The  Union  Col- 
lege phrensy,  however,  had  come  down  by  this  time  into  some  of 
the  staid  churchly  congregations  in  Pennsylvania,  and  a  consider- 
able portion  of  the  students  at  Mercersburg  were  more  or  less  ad- 
dicted to  it.  Here  it  was  a  more  serious  matter  than  in  the  con- 
gregation, and  Dr.  Xevin  saw  at  once  that,  for  sanitary  reasons  at 
least,  the  atmosphere  of  the  College  and  Seminary  must  be  disin- 


Chap.  XVIII]    tiik  anxious  bench  controversy  161 

lected  without  delay.  As  he  was  lecturing  on  Pastoral  Theology 
at  the  time,  he  took  occasion  to  deliver  several  lectures  on  the  s^'s- 
tem  of  New  Measures,  to  which  the  students  had  just  received  a 
full  introduction.  They  were  quite  as  outspoken  as  the  letter  to 
Mr.  Ramsey,  and  a  great  deal  more  forcible.  The  effect  was  all 
that  could  be  desired.  The  effervescence  among  the  theologians,  in 
particular,  subsided, and  the  pious  students  generally  came  to  'Squire 
Cook's  conclusion,  already  referred  to,  and  were  quite  willing  to 
hope  for  the  best. 

But  the  Professor  at  once  saw  that  vague  rumors  of  the  stand 
which  he  had  here  taken  would  soon  get  out  into  tlie  Church,  and 
that  it  Avas  quite  likely  to  be  misunderstood  or  misrepresented. 
Accordingly  he  concluded  to  enlarge  his  lectures,  and  in  the  spring 
of  1843  published  them  in  ])amphlet  form  under  the  title.  The 
Anxious  Bench— A  Tract  for  the  Times.  Pp.14!).  Tekel.  Daniel, 
5:  27.  As  he  said,  it  was  due  to  the  Church  that  he  should  define 
his  position  so  that  all  concerned  might  know  exactly  where  he 
stood;  also  to  himself  that  he  might  know  where  he  himself  stood, 
and  whether  he  would  be  sustained  in  his  position,  be  free  to  con- 
tinue in  his  work,  or  whether  it  would  not  be  better  to  retire  from 
it  before  proceeding  any  further. — The  small  volume  had  at  once 
an  extensive  circulation  in  both  of  the  German  Churches,  and  in  a 
brief  period  of  time  a  second  edition  was  called  for. 

The  Tract  for  the  Times  was  prepared  with  great  care  and  cir- 
cumspection, so  as  not  to  be  misunderstood  or  be  capable  of  mis- 
construction. At  the  present  day  it  is  surprising  that  such  ex- 
treme caution  had  to  be  exercised  in  order  that  the  book  might  be 
understood  and  appreciated.  It  Avas  simply  a  plea  for  religion, 
pure  and  undefiled,  as  opjjosed  to  a  spurious  religious  experience, 
based  on  mere  natural  feeling,  ai'oused  during  a  period  of  religious 
excitement.  It  treated,  however,  of  sacred  things,  and  here  more 
than  anyAvhere  else,  it  became  necessary  to  distinguish  cleni-ly  be- 
tAveen  Avhat  Avas  a  genuine  and  Avhat  was  a  spurious  coin.  The  title 
itself  was  intended  to  i)revent  niisconcei)tion  of  its  contents:  it 
Avas  not  named  a  treatise  on  Ncav  Measures,  for  many  persons  un- 
derstood by  such  measures  the  introduction  into  the  churelies  of 
pra^-er  meetings,  Sunday-schools,  protracted  meetings,  missionary 
Avork,  and  other  things  of  like  character.  Neither  Avas  the  term 
employed  merely  to  express  a  single  thing  Avith  its  foolish  extra a'- 
agances,  but  was  made  to  stand  as  the  type  and  representative  of 
an  entire  system  of  rel-gious  activity,  Avhich,  at  tlie  time,  Avas  tech- 
nically  denominated   the  Ncav  Measure  system   of   revivals,  Avith 


162  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  VIII 

which  most  readers  were  familiar.  The  particular  here  was  put 
for  the  general,  very  properly,  because  it  belonged  to  a  system,  not 
in  name  simplj^  but  in  its  life  and  spirit. 

The  system  did  not  belong  to  a  genuine  religious  revival,  but 
was  rather  its  abuse.  In  the  proper  sense  of  the  term  the  Church 
is  continually  seeking  to  be  revived, is  or  ought  to  be  revived  every 
Sabbath,  and  if  there  are  seasons  when  a  special  refreshing  comes 
down  from  the  Lord  upon  the  congregation,  so  much  the  better; 
but  that  is  something  vastly  dift'erent  from  the  system  that  gets  up 
"the  Anxious  Bench,  revival  machinery,  solemn  tricks  for  the  sake 
of  effect,  decision  displa^^s  at  the  bidding  of  the  preacher,  genu- 
flections and  prostrations  in  the  aisle  or  around  the  altar, noise  and 
disorder,  extravagance  and  rant,  mechanical  conversions,  justifica- 
tion by  feeling  rather  than  by  faith, and  encouragement  to  all  kinds 
of  fanatical  impressions." 

Tlie  Anxious  Bench  was  written  not  as  a  diatribe  against  the 
Methodists,  but  more  particularly  for  the  defence  and  benefit  of  the 
German  Churches,  which  were  awaking  from  their  spiritual  slum- 
ber and  passing  through  a  crisis  in  their  history.  No  field  could 
be  regarded  as  more  interesting.  A  vast  moral  change  was  going- 
forward  upon  it,  involving  consequences  that  no  man  could  proper- 
ly calculate.  From  various  causes  a  new  feeling  here  was  eveiy- 
where  at  work  on  the  subject  of  religion.  As  usual  the  old  struggled 
to  maintain  itself  in  opposition  to  the  new,  and  a  strong  tendency 
to  become  one-sided  was  created  on  both  sides.  The  general  mind 
unhappily  had  not  been  furnished  thus  far  with  proper  protection 
and  guidance  in  the  way  of  full  religious  teaching,  and  the  result 
was'that  in  tliese critical  circumstances, it  had  become  exposed, more 
or  less,  at  almost  every  point,  to  those  wild  fanatical  influences, 
which  in  this  country  are  sure  to  come  in  like  a  desolating  flood, 
wherever  they  can  find  room  in  order  to  gain  possession  of  the  en- 
tire field  if  possible,  on  the  principle  that  the  "old  organizations 
are  corrupt  and  ought  to  be  destroyed."  In  these  circumstances, 
it  was  not  always  easy  for  the  friends  of  eai'nest  piety,  in  the  regu- 
lar historical  churches,  to  abide  by  the  ancient  landmarks  of  truth 
and  order.  The  temptation  was  to  fall  in,  at  least  to  some  extent, 
with  the  tide  of  fanaticism,  as  the  only  way  of  making  war  success- 
fully on  the  dead  formality  that  stared  them  in  the  face  in  one  di- 
rection, and  the  only  way  of  countei'acting  the  proselj^ting  zeal  of 
noisy  sects  in  the  other. 

"  This  and  other  considerations,"  said  Dr.  Nevin  in  the  first 
chapter  of  the  Anxious  Bench,  "  have  had  the  effect  of  opening  the 


Chap.  XVIII]     the  anxiol-.s  bench  controversy  1G3 

wav  for  tlic  use  of  the  New  ^Measures  to  some  extent  in  the  German 
Eefornu'd  Church,  but  much  more  so  in  the  Lutheran.  It  is  well 
known  that  a  lar<;e  division  of  this  last  mentioned  denomination 
has  identified  itself  openly  and  zealously  with  the  system  both  in 
doctrine  and  jjractice.  The  Lufheran  Observer^  which  has  a  Avide 
circulation  and  great  influence,  has  lent  all  its  authority  to  recom- 
mend and  support  the  Anxious  Bench  with  its  accompaniments, 
taking  every  occasion  to  speak  in  its  favor  and  making  continually 
the  most  of  its  results.  Thus  ministers  and  people  have  been  ex- 
tensively committed  in  its  favor,  so  that  with  many  the  use  of  the 
Anxious  Bench,  and  a  zeal  for  evangelical  godliness,  are  considered 
to  be  very  much  the  same  thing.  It  might  seem,  indeed,  as  though 
all  the  interests  of  religion,  in  the  case  of  the  German  eounnunity, 
were  to  the  view  of  a  large  class  suspended  on  the  triumphant  prog- 
ress of  the  new  system.  With  them  it  is  emphatically  the  great 
power  of  God,  which  may  be  expected  to  turn  and  overturn  until 
old  things  shall  fairly  i)ass  away  and  all  things  shall   become  new. 

''And  it  must  ])e  acknowledged  that  the  system  bids  fair  at  present 
to  go  on  cou(piering  and  to  conquer,  in  its  own  style,  within  the 
limits  at  least  of  this  widely  extended  and  venerable  denomination. 
It  seems  to  l)ear  down,  more  and  more,  all  opposition.  It  has  be- 
come an  interest  too  strong  to  be  resisted  or  controlled.  What  are 
to  l^e  its  ultimate  issues  and  results,  time  only  can  reveal. — 'And 
let  me  tell  you,  sir,'  writes  a  correspondent  in  the  Lufheran  Ob- 
server^ Nov.  n,  1843,  'whatever  Professor  Xevin  may  have  written, 
in  the  abstraction  of  his  study,  I  am  nevertheless  strongly  con- 
vinced, as  a  pastor,  that  the  so-called  Anxious  Bench  is  the  lever 
of  Archimedes,  which,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  can  raise  our  Ger- 
man Churches  to  that  degree  of  respectability  in  the  religious 
world  which  they  ought  to  enjo3\ — 'And  again,  'such  measures  are 
usually  inseparable  from  great  revivals,  and  if  the  great  luminaries 
in  the  Church  set  themselves  up  against  them  they  must  l)e  content 
to  al)ide  the  conse([uences.  By  the  judicious  use  of  such  measures 
tlie  miUcuium  must  be  accelerated  and  introduced.' 

"No  one,"  says  Dr.  Nevin,  "  reflecting,  therefore,  on  the  actual 
state  of  things  at  this  time  in  the  field  occui)ied  by  the  (Jerman 
churches,  can  fail  lo  perceive  that  there  is  full  occasion  for  calling 
attention  to  the  sul)ject  which  it  is  here  i)roposed  to  consider.  An 
inciuiry  into  the  merits  of  the  Anxious  Bencli,  and  the  system  to 
which  it  belongs,  is  not  only  reasonable  and  fit  in  the  circumstances 
but  loudly  called  for  on  every  side.  It  is  no  small  question  that  is 
involved  in  the  case.     The  bearing  of  it  upon  the  interests  of  re- 


16-1  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  VIII 

ligion  in  the  German  churches  is  of  fundamental  and  vital  import- 
ance. A  crisis  has  evidently  been  reached  in  their  history,  and 
one  of  the  most  serious  points  involved  in  it  is  precisely  the  ques- 
tion of  New  Measures.  Let  this  system  prevail  and  rule  with  per- 
manent sway,  and  the  result  of  the  religious  movement,  which  is 
now  in  progress,  will  be  something  widely  ditferent  from  what  it 
would  have  been  under  other  auspices.  The  old  regular  organiza- 
tions, if  they  continue  to  exist  at  all,  will  not  be  the  same  churches. 
In  time  to  come  their  entire  history  and  complexion  will  l)e  shaped 
l)y  the  course  of  things  with  regard  to  this  point.  Under  this  view, 
therefore,  the  march  of  New  Measures  at  the  present  time  may  well 
challenge  our  anxious  and  solemn  regard.  It  is  an  interest  of  no 
common  magnitude,  portentous  in  its  aspects  and  pregnant  with 
consequences  of  vast  account.  The  system  is  moving  forward  in 
full  strength,  and  putting  forth  its  pretensions  in  the  boldest  style 
on  all  sides.  Surely  we  have  a  right,  and  in  such  a  case  we  may 
feel  it  a  dutj-,  to  institute  an  examination  into  its  merits. 

"We  may  indeed  congratulate  ourselves  that  we  have  suffered  as 
yet  comparatively  so  little  from  fanatical  excesses  in  our  own  de- 
nomination. Still,  linked  together  as  the  German  Churches  are 
throughout  the  land,  we  have  reason  to  be  jealous  here  of  influ- 
ences, that  must  in  the  nature  of  the  case  act  upon  us  from  with- 
out. In  such  circumstances  there  is  occasion,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  room  for  consideration.  It  might  answer  little  purpose  to 
interpose  remonstrance  or  inquiry,  if  the  rage  for  New  Measures 
were  fairly  let  loose  as  a  sweeping  wind  within  our  borders.  It 
were  idle  to  bespeak  attention  from  the  rolling  whirlwind.  But 
with  the  whirlwind  in  full  view,  we  may  be  exhorted  reasonably  to 
consider  and  stand  back  from  its  destructive  path.  We  are  still 
free  to  reject  or  embrace  the  new  order  of  things,  as  the  interests 
of  the  Church,  on  calm  reflection,  may  l)e  found  to  require.  In 
circumstances  precisely  such  as  these,  it  may  be  counted  in  all  re- 
spects proper  to  subject  the  system  to  a  serious  examination. 

"It  is  sometimes  imagined  that  no  room  must  be  allowed  for 
criticism,  where  the  object  proposed  is  to  rescue  souls  from  hell. 
To  stand  upon  points  of  order,  in  such  a  case,  is  to  clog  the  chariot 
wheels  of  salvation.  Meanwhile  the  disastrous  consequences  of 
false  excitement  in  the  name  of  religion  are  entirely  overlooked. 
No  acco^unt  is  made,  comparatively,  of  the  danger  of  bringing  both 
the  truth  and  the  power  of  God  into  discredit,  by  countenancing 
pretensions  to  the  name  of  a  revival,  where  the  thing  itself  is  not 
present.     The  danger  itself  is  by  no  means  imaginary.     Spurious 


Chap.  XVlll]     the  anxiois  uknch  conthoveksy  lOo 

excitements  are  natural  and  common.  .Gross  irregnlarity  and  ex- 
travagance are  actually  at  Avork,  in  connection  with  snch  excite- 
ments, on  all  sides.  The  whole  interest  of  revivals  is  endangered 
by  the  assumption  impudentl}'  put  forward,  that  these  revolting 
excesses  belong  to  the  system.  False  and  ruinous  views  of  relig- 
ion are  widely  disseminated.  Thousands  of  souls  are  thus  de- 
ceived, and  A'ast  obstructions  thrown  in  the  way  of  true  godliness. 
But  of  all  this  no  account  is  made  by  those  who  are  so  sensitiveh' 
jealous  of  danger  on  the  other  side.  The  only  alternative  they 
seem  to  see  is  Action  or  No  Action.  But  the  ditt'erence  between 
right  action  and  ivrong  action,  we  would  think,  is  full  as  import- 
ant, to  say  the  least,  as  the  difference  between  action  and  no  action — 
no  matter  what  irregularities  are  attached  to  it,  so  long  as  it  stands 
before  us  in  the  I10I3'  garb  of  a  revival,  it  is  counted  unsafe  to  call 
it  to  account.  The  maxim.  Prove  all  things,  must  be  discarded,  as 
well  as  the  caution.  Believe  not  every  sjn7-it.  Most  certainly  in 
such  circumstances  caution  does  become  us  all.  We  should  trem- 
ble to  touch  the  Ark  of  God  with  unhallowed  hands;  but  it  were 
to  be  wished,  that  this  might  be  seriously  laid  to  heart  b}^  the 
champions  of  the  Anxious  Bench  themselves,  as  well  as  by  others. 

"The  fact  that  a  crisis  is  come  in  the  histor}-  of  the  German 
Churches,  and  that  they  are  awaking  to  the  consciousness  of  a 
new  life  with  regard  to  religion,  onl}'  makes  it  the  moi'e  important 
that  this  subject  should  not  be  suffered  to  rest  in  vague  confusion. 
It  is  a  popish  maxim,  by  which  ignorance  is  made  to  be  the  mother 
of  devotion.  We  sa^-  rather,  Let  there  be  light.  The  cause  of 
the  Reformation  was  more  endangered  by  its  own  caricature  than 
by  all  the  opposition  of  Rome.  Luther  saved  it,  not  by  truckling 
comjjromise,  but  by  l)oldly  facing  and  unmasking  the  false  spirit, 
so  that  all  the  world  might  see  that  Lutheran  Christianity  was  one 
thing  and  wild  Phrj'gian  Montanism,  with  its  pretended  inspira- 
tion, another.  Let  things  that  are  wrong  be  called  b}'  their  right 
names  and  be  separated  from  the  things  that  are  right." 

After  having  made  what  were  supposed  to  be  all  the  necessary 
introductory  and  explanatory  remarks,  the  author  of  the  Tract  for 
the  Times  goes  on  in  some  four  or  five  chapters  to  examine  and  re- 
fute the  claims  of  the  Anxious  Bench  system  in  crisp  language  and 
vigorous  logic.  He  shows  that  its  popularit}-  or  its  seeming  suc- 
cess does  not  give  it  any  valid  authority ;  that  it  requires  no  spir- 
itual power  to  give  it  effect;  that  its  reliance  on  forms  or  measures 
I)etrays  inward  weakness  as  well  as  the  spirit  of  quacker}-;  that  it 
is  only  a  substitute  for  true  strength;  that  where  held  in  honor  it 


1G6  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DlV.  YIII 

gives  ample  space  for  novices  and  quacks;  tliat  it  creates  a  false  is- 
sue for  the  conscience  ;  unsettles  true  seriousness;  usurps  the  place 
of  the  ci'oss;  leads  to  disorder;  connects  itself  with  a  vulgar  and 
irreverent  st_yle  of  religion ;  is  unfavorable  to  deep,  earnest  piet^^; 
and  that  it  results  in  wide-spread  lasting  spiritual  mischief  What 
is  said  in  its  favor — that  it  brings  the  sinner  to  a  decision,  that  it 
invoh'es  a  committal,  strengthens  his  purpose,  gives  him  a  peniten- 
tial discipline,  opens  the  way  for  instruction  or  prayer — have  very 
little  force,  as  these  desirable  results  can  be  reached  in  a  better  and 
more  orderlj^  way.  The  Romish  Church  has  always  delighted  in 
arrangements  and  services  animated  by  the  same  false  spirit.  In 
her  penitential  system  all  pains  have  been  taken  to  produce  effects 
hj  means  of  outward  postures  and  dress,  till  in  the  end,  amid  the 
solemn  mummery,  no  room  has  been  left  for  genuine  penitence  at 
all.  Yet  not  a  single  ceremony  was  ever  introduced  into  its  system 
that  did  not  seem  to  be  recommended  by  some  sound  religious 
reason  at  the  time. 

"  Simeon,  the  Stylite,  distinguished  himself  in  the  fifth  century 
b}-  taking  his  station  on  the  top  of  a  pillar,  for  the  glor}'  of  God  and 
the  benefit  of  his  own  soul.  This  whimsical  discipline  he  continued 
to  observe  for  forty-seven  years.  Meanwhile  he  became  an  object  of 
wide-spread  veneration.  Vast  crowds  came  from  a  distance  to  gaze 
npon  him  and  hear  him  preach.  The  measure  took  with  the  people 
wonderfully.  Thousands  of  heathen  were  converted  and  baptized 
by  his  hand.  Among  these,  it  may  be  charitably  trusted,  there 
were  some  whose  conversion  was  inward  aiid  solid.  God  may  have 
made  use  of  Simeon's  pillar — sixty  feet  high — to  bring  them  to 
Himself.  The  seal  of  His  approbation  might,  therefore,  seem  to 
have  rested  upon  it  to  an  extraordinary  extent.  No  wonder  the 
device  became  popular.  The  quackery  of  the  Pillar  took  possession 
of  the  Eastern  world  and  stood  for  a  century,  a  monument  of  the 
folly  that  gave  it  birth.  We  laugh  at  it  now;  and  yet  it  seemed  a 
good  thing  in  its  time,  and  carried  a  weight  of  popularity  with  it, 
such  as  no  new  measure  can  boast  of  in  our  day.  Monkery  was  to 
man}^,  in  fact,  the  means  of  conversion  and  salvation ;  and  to  this  day 
an  argument  might  be  framed  in  its  favor,  under  this  view,  no  less 
plausible,  to  say  the  least,  than  an}-  that  can  be  presented  for  the 
use  of  the  Anxious  Bench. 

"  But  is  not  Methodism  Christianity  ?  And  is  it  not  better  that 
the  German  Churches  should  rise  in  this  form,  than  not  rise  at  all  ? 
Most  certainly  so,  I  reply,  if  that  be  its  only  alternative.  But 
that  is  not  the  alternative.     Their  resurrection  may  just  as  well 


ClIAP.  XVIII]      THE    ANXIOUS    IJENCII    CONTHOVERSY  167 

tuke  place  in  tlie  type  of  their  own  true,  original,  glorious  life,  as 
it  is  still  to  l)e  found  enshrined  in  their  symbolical  books.  And, 
whatever  there  may  be  that  is  good  in  Methodism,  this  life  of  the 
Reformation  I  aflirm  to  be  immeasurably  more  excellent  and  sound. 
Wesley  was  a  small  man  as  compared  with  Melanchthon.  Olshau- 
sen,  with  all  his  mysticism,  is  a  commentator  of  the  inmost  sanc- 
tuary in  comparison  .with  Adam  Clark.  If  the  original  distinctive 
life  of  the  Churches  of  the  Reformation  be  not  the  object  to  be 
reached  after,  in  the  efforts  that  are  made  to  build  up  the  interests 
of  German  Christianity  in  this  country,  then  it  were  better  to  say 
so  openly  and  plainly.  Why  keep  up  the  walls  of  denominational 
partition  in  such  a  case,  with  no  distinctive  spiritual  being  to  up- 
hold or  protect.  A  sect  without  a  soul  has  no  right  to  live.  Zeal 
for  a  separate  denominational  name  that  utters  no  separate  idea  is 
the  very  essence  of  sectarian  bigotry  and  schism.  It  could  not 
well  be  otherwise."  This  new  system  addressed  mainly  the  lower 
nature  of  man,  or  what  the  Scripture  calls  the  psychic  or  natural 
man,  in  distinction  from  the  pneumatic  or  spiritual  part  of  his  be- 
ing. The  former,  largely  animal  in  character,  was  intended  by  the 
Creator  to  be  for  the  most  part  the  medium  of  his  intercourse  with 
the  world  of  nature  ;  the  latter  to  bring  him  into  communion  with 
God  and  divine  things. 

"Error  and  heresy,  I  repeat  it,"  says  Dr.  Nevin,  referring  to 
this  psychic  religion,  "are  involved  in  the  S3-stem  itself,  and  can- 
not fail,  sooner  or  later,  where  it  is  encouraged,  to  evolve  themselves 
in  most  disastrous  results.  A  low  Pelagianizing  theory  of  religion 
runs  through  it  from  beginning  to  end.  The  fact  of  sin  is  ac- 
knowledged, but  not  in  its  true  extent.  The  idea  of  a  new  spiritual 
creation  is  admitted,  but  not  in  its  proper  radical  and  comprehen- 
sive form.  The  ground  of  the  sinner's  salvation  is  made  to  be  at 
last  in  his  own  separate  person.  The  deep  import  of  the  declara- 
tion, '  That  which  is  born  of  the  flesh  is  flesh,'  is  not  fully  appre- 
hended ;  and  it  is  vainly  imagined  accordingl}',  that  the  flesh  as 
such  may  be  so  stimulated  and  exalted  notwithstanding,  as  to 
prove  the  mother  of  that  spiritual  nature,  which  we  are  solemnly 
assured  can  be  born  only  of  the  Spirit.  Hence  all  stress  is  laid 
ujjon  the  energy  of  the  individual  will,  the  self-will  of  the  flesh,  for 
the  accomplishment  of  the  great  change  in  which  regeneration  is 
supi)osed  to  exist. 

"The  case  is  not  remedied  at  all  by  the  consideration,  that  due 
account  is  made  at  the  same  time  professedly  of  God's  Spirit,  as 
indispensable  in  the  work  of  conversion.     The  heresy  lies  involved 


168  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

in  the  system.  This  is  so  constructed  as  naturally  and  in  due 
course  of  time  inevitably  to  engender  false  views  of  religion. 
Sometimes  the  mere  purpose  to  serve  God,  in  the  same  form  with  a 
resolution  to  sign  a  temperance  pledge,  is  considered  to  be  the 
ground  of  regeneration.  At  other  times  it  is  made  to  stand  in  a 
certain  state  of  feeling,  supposed  to  be  of  supernatural  origin,  but 
apprehended,  nevertheless,  mechanicall}^,  as  the  result  of  a  spiritual 
process  which  begins  and  ends  with  the  sinner  himself.  The  expe- 
rience of  the  supposed  supernatural,  in  this  case,  stands  in  the 
same  relation  to  the  actual  power  of  the  new  birth,  that  magic 
bears  to  the  true  idea  of  a  miracle.  Religion  does  not  get  the  sin- 
ner, but  it  is  the  sinner  who  'gets  religion.'  Justification  is  taken 
in  fact  by  feeling,  not  by  fiiith ;  and  in  this  way  falls  back  as  fully 
into  the  sphere  of  self-righteousness  as  though  it  were  expected 
from  works  under  any  other  form.  In  both  the  views  which  have 
been  mentioned,  as  grounded  either  in  a  change  of  purpose  or  a 
change  of  feeling,  religion  is  found  to  be  in  the  end  the  product 
properly  of  the  sinner  himself  It  is  wholly  subjective  and  there- 
fore visionary,  and  false.  The  theory  we  have  been  contemplating 
then,  as  included  practically  in  the  system  of  New  Measures,  is  a 
great  and  terrible  heresy,  which  is  calculated  to  deceive  and  destroy 
a  vast  multitude  of  souls. 

"The  proper  fruits  of  Pelagianism  follow  the  system  invariably, 
in  proportion  exactly  to  the  extent  in  which  it  may  be  suffered  in 
any  case  to  prevail.  With  regard  to  this  point  a  most  ample  field 
for  instruction  is  presented  in  the  history  of  the  great  religious 
movement  over  which  Mr.  Finney  presided  some  years  ago,  in  cer- 
tain parts  of  this  country.  Years  of  faithful  pastoral  service  on  the 
part  of  a  different  class  of  ministers,  working  in  a  wholly  different 
style,  have  hardly  yet  sufficed  to  restore  to  something  like  spiritual 
fruitfulness  and  beauty  the  field  in  Northern  New  York,  over  which 
the  system  then  passed,  as  a  wasting  fire  in  the  fulness  of  its 
strength. 

"In  many  places,  a  morbid  thirst  for  excitement  may  be  said  to 
exhaust  the  M^hole  interest  that  is  felt  in  religion.  The  worst  er- 
rors stand  in  close  juxtaposition  with  the  most  bold  pretensions  to 
the  highest  order  of  Christian  experience.  All  might  seem  to  be- 
gin in  the  Spirit,  and  j^et  all  is  perpetually  ending  in  the  Flesh. 
The  system,  properl^^  speaking,  is  not  new.  The  same  theory  of 
religion  has,  in  all  ages,  led  su1)stantiall3'  to  the  same  style  of  ac- 
tion, and  this  has  l)een  followed  by  substantially  the  same  bad  re- 
sults.    No  religious  communit}-  can  grow  and  prosper  in  a  solid 


Chap.  XA'III]     the  anxious  bench  controversy  109 

way,  wlierc  this  false  tlieory  of  reliij-ion  is  allowed  to  have  anj- 
considerahle  authority  ;  because  it  Avill  always  stand  in  the  way  of 
those  (leei)er  and  nujre  silent  forms  of  action,  hy  which  alone  it  is 
possilile  for  this  end  to  be  accomplished."'' 

After  the  Tract  had  thus  by  a  thorough  analysis  demonstrated 
the  iiiw:ird  weakness  of  the  Anxious  Bench  system,  it  goes  on  in 
a  final  chiipter  to  point  out  in  the  way  of  contrast  something  older, 
better  and  more  enduring.  This  it  finds  in  what,  for  the  sake  of 
symplicity,  it  calls  the  s^^em  of  the  Catechism.  It  then  lays  aside 
its  negative,  or  polemic  character,  and  becomes  positive  in  its  views, 
without  which  all  its  reasoning  would  have  been  w^orse  than  vain. 
To  i)ull  down  is  not  the  most  difheult  work,  even  in  religion,  but 
to  Ituild  up  on  a  better  foundation  calls  for  more  wisdom  and 
strength.     Hie  labor,  hoc  opus  est. 

"The  theory  of  religion,"  says  the  author,  "in  which  the  Cate- 
chism stands  is  vastly  more  deep  and  comprehensive  and,  of  course, 
vastly  more  earnest  also  than  that  which  lies  at  the  foundation  of 
the  other  system.  This  latter  we  have  seen  to  be  characteristicall3' 
Pelagian,  with  narrow  views  of  the  nature  of  sin,  and  confused  ap- 
prehensions of  the  difference  l)etween  the  flesh  and  the  spirit;  in- 
volving in  the  end  the  gross  and  radical  error  that  conversion  is  to 
be  considered,  in  one  shape  or  another,  the  product  of  the  sinner's 
own  will,  and  not  truly  and  strictly  a  new  creation  in  Jesus  Christ 
by  the  power  of  God.  This  is  an  old  error  which  has  often  put  on 
the  fairest  ajjpearances,  seeming  even  to  go  beyond  the  general  life 
of  the  Church  in  the  measure  of  its  zeal  and  spirituality.  But  now 
in  opposition  to  all  this,  the  true  theory  of  religion  carries  us  con- 
tinually beyond  the  individual  to  the  view  of  a  far  deeper  and  more 
general  form  of  existence,  in  which  his  particular  life  is  represented 
as  standing.  Thus  sin  is  not  simpl}-  the  offspring  of  a  particular 
will,  putting  itself  forth  in  the  form  of  actual  transgression;  but  a 
wrong  habit  of  humanity  itself,  a  general  and  universal  force, 
which  includes  and  rules  the  entire  existence  of  the  individual  man 
from  the  start.  This  point  is  well  maintained  by  Dr.  Sartorius, 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  Lutheran  divines  of  the  present  age. 
Sin  as  a  disease  is  organic,  rooted  in  the  race,  and  cannot  be  over- 
come in  any  case  by  a  force  less  deep  and  general  than  itself.  As 
well  might  we  look  for  the  acorn  to  forsake  in  its  growth  the  type 
of  its  proper  species,  and  to  i)ut  forth  the  form  of  a  mountain  ash 
or  stately  elm.  So  decf)  and  Iii-oad  is  the  ruin  from  Avhich  man 
is  to  be  delivered. 

"And  here  again  the  same  depth  and  breadth  of  view  is  [n-e- 
11 


ItO  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  '\'III 

sented  to  us  also  in  the  Christian  salvation  itself.  Man  is  the  sub- 
ject of  it,  but  not  the  author  of  it,  in  any  sense.  His  nature  is 
restorable,  but  it  can  never  restore  itself.  The  restoration,  there- 
fore, to  be  real,  must  begin  beyond  the  individual.  In  this  case,  as 
in  the  other,  the  general  must  go  before  the  particular,  and  support 
it  as  its  proper  ground.  Thus  humanity,  fallen  in  Adam,  is  made 
to  undergo  a  resurrection  in  Christ,  and  so  restored  flows  over  or- 
ganicall}',  as  in  the  other  case,  to  all  in  whom  its  life  appears.  The 
sinner  is  saved  then  b}'  an  inward  living  union  with  Christ,  as  real 
as  the  bond  b}-  which  he  had  been  joined  in  the  first  instance  to 
Adam.  This  union  is  reached  and  maintained,  through  the  medium 
of  the  Church,  hj  the  power  of  the  Hol}^  Ghost.  It  constitutes  a 
new  life,  the  ground  of  which  is  not  in  the  particular  subject  of  it 
at  all,  but  in  Christ,  the  organic  root  of  the  Church.  The  partic- 
ular subject  lives,  not  properly  speaking  in  the  acts  of  his  own 
will,  separately  considered,  but  in  the  power  of  a  vast  generic  life, 
that  lies  wholly  be^'ond  his  will,  and  has  now  begun  to  manifest 
itself  through  him,  as  the  law  and  type  of  his  will  itself,  as  well  as 
of  his  whole  being.  As  born  of  the  Spirit,  he  is  himself  spiritual, 
and  capable  of  true  righteousness.  Thus  his  salvation  begins,  and 
thus  it  is  carried  forward,  till  it  becomes  complete  in  the  resur- 
rection of  the  great  day.  From  first  to  last,  it  is  a  power  which 
he  does  not  so  much  apprehend  as  he  is  apprehended  by  it,  com- 
prehended in  it,  and  carried  along  with  it,  as  something  infinitely 
more  deep  and  lasting  than  himself. 

"  Great  purposes  and  great  efforts  exist  only  when  the  sense  of 
the  general  overpowers  the  sense  of  the  particular,  and  the  last  is 
constrained  to  become  tributary  to  the  tendencies  and  purposes  of 
the  first.  There  may  be  a  great  show  of  strength  where  the  man 
acts  simply  from  and  for  himself;  noise,  agitation,  passion,  reach- 
ing even  to  violence;  but  it  will  be  only  a  display  of  imbecility 
when  all  is  done.  The  will  acting  in  this  wa}-  is  very  weakness  it- 
self, and  all  the  blustering  and  violence  it  may  put  on  serves  Init  to 
expose  the  deficiency  of  strength  that  prevails  within.  To  acquire, 
in  any  case,  true  force,  it  must  fall  back  on  a  poAver  more  general 
than  itself.  And  so  it  is  found  that  in  the  sphere  of  religion  par- 
ticularly, the  Pelagian  theory,  whether  in  thought  or  action,  is 
always  more  impotent  for  practical  purposes  than  that  to  which  it 
■stands  opposed.  The  action,  which  is  produced,  may  be  noisy,  fit- 
ful, violent,  but  it  can  never  carry  with  it  the  depth,  the  force,  the 
fulness  that  are  found  to  characterize  the  life  of  the  soul,  when  set 
in   motion   by  the    other   view.     Relio-ion   in  this    form    becomes 


Chap.  XYIII]     thk  anxious  bench  coxtroversy  171 

strictly  a  life  of  God  in  the  soul.  So  fiir  :is  this  life  prevails  it  is 
tranquil,  profound,  and  free.  It  overcomes  the  world;  "not  by 
miglit  and  b\'  power,'"  the  unequal,  restless,  fitful  and  spasmodic 
efforts  of  the  flesh,  but  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord. 

"  Botli  the  ruin  of  man  and  his  recovery  rest  on  a  general 
ground,  whicli  is  beyond  himself  as  an  individual.  If  saA-ed  at  all, 
he  is  to  be  saved  b}-  the  force  of  a  spiritual  constitution,  established 
by  God  for  the  purpose,  the  provisions  of  which  go  far  beyond  the 
resources  of  his  own  will,  and  are  expected  to  reach  him  not  so 
much  through  the  measure  of  his  particular  life,  as  by  the  medium 
of  a  new  general  life  with  which  he  is  to  be  filled  and  anininted 
from  without.  This  spiritual  constitution  is  brought  to  bear  upon 
him  in  the  Church,  by  means  and  agencies  which  God  has  ap- 
pointed, and  clothed  with  power  expressly  for  this  end.  Hence 
wdiere  the  S3'stem  of  the  Catechism  prevails,  great  account  is  made 
of  the  Church  and  all  reliance  placed  upon  the  means  of  grace 
comprehended  in  its  constitution,  as  all  sufficient  under  God  for 
the  accomplishment  of  its  own  purposes.  These  are  felt  to  be 
something  more  than  mere  devices  of  human  ingenuity  and  are 
honored  and  diligently-  used  accordingly  as  the  wisdom  of  God, 
and  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation.  Due  regard  is  had  to  the 
idea  of  the  Church  as  something  more  than  a  bare  abstraction,  the 
conception  of  an  aggregate  of  parts  mechanicall}-  brought  together. 
It  is  apprehended  rather  as  an  organic  life,  springing  perpetually 
from  the  same  ground,  and  identical  with  itself  at  every  part.  In 
this  view,  the  Church  is  trul}-  the  mother  of  all  her  children.  They 
do  not  imi)art  life  to  her,  but  she  imparts  life  to  them.  Christ 
lives  in  the  Church  and  through  the  Church  in  its  particular  mem- 
bers;  just  as  Adam  lives  in  the  human  race  generally  considered, 
and  through  the  race  in  every  individual  man.  This  view  of  the 
relation  of  the  Church  to  the  salvation  of  the  individual  exerts  an 
important  iiitluenee,  in  the  case  before  us,  on  the  whole  system  of 
action  by  which  it  is  sought  to  reach  this  object. 

"Where  it  i)revails  a  serious  interest  will  be  taken  in  the  ease  of 
children,  as  proper  subjects  for  the  Christian  salvation,  from  the 
earliest  age.  Infants,  born  in  the  Church,  are  regarded  and  treated 
as  members  of  it  from  the  beginning,  and  this  privilege  is  felt  to 
be  something  more  tliaii  nn  empty  show.  Children  growing  up  in 
the  bosom  of  the  Chur<li,  under  the  f:iithful  application  of  the 
means  of  grace,  siioiiM  he  (piickened  into  spiritual  life  in  a  com- 
paratively quiet  way,  and  spring  up  numerously  'as  willows  b}- 
the  water  couises.'  to  adorn   the  r'lirisfinn   profession,  without    be- 


il2  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  VIII 

ing  able  at  all  to  trace  the  process  by  which  the  glorious  change 
has  been  effected. 

"Otherwise,  as  a  matter  of  course,  baptism  becomes  a  barren 
sign,  and  the  children  of  the  Church  are  left  to  grow  up  like  the 
children  of  the  world,  under  most  heartless  and  disastrous  general 
neglect.  Only  where  the  system  of  the  Catechism  is  in  honor  and 
vigorous  force,  do  we  ever  find  a  properly  earnest  and  comprehen- 
sive regard  exhibited  for  the  salvation  of  the  young ;  a  regard  that 
operates  not  partially  and  occasionally  only,  but  follows  its  subject 
with  all-compassing  interest,  like  the  air  and  light  of  heaven,  from 
the  first  breath  of  infancy  onwards  ;  a  regard  that  cannot  be  satis- 
fied in  their  behalf  with  the  spasmodic  experience  of  the  Anxious 
Bench,  but  travails  in  birth  for  them  continually,  until  Christ  be 
formed  in  their  hearts  the  hope  of  glory. 

"Thus  due  regard  is  had  to  the  f am  Hi/ ^  the  domestic  institution, 
as  a  vital  and  fundamental  fixct,  in  the  general  organization  of  the 
Church  ;  and  all  proper  pains  are  taken  to  promote  religion  in  fiim- 
ilies,as  the  indispensable  condition  of  its  prosperity  under  all  other 
forms.  Parents  are  engaged  to  pray  for  their  children,  and  to 
watch  over  them,  with  true  spiritual  solicitude,  continually  endeav- 
oring to  draw  them  to  the  Church.  With  such  feelings,  they  will 
have,  of  course,  a  family  altar,  and  daily  sacrifice  of  pra3^er  and 
praise  in  the  midst  of  their  house.  The}'  will  be  careful,  too,  to 
instil  into  the  minds  of  their  children  the  great  truths  of  religion, 
'in  the  house,  and  by  the  way.'  Catechetical  instruction,  in  pai'- 
ticular,  will  be  faithfully  employed  from  the  beginning.  And  to 
crown  all,  the  power  of  a  pious  and  holy  example  will  be  sought, 
as  necessary'  to  impart  life  to  all  other  forms  of  influence.  All 
this  belongs  properly  to  the  system  of  the  Catechism. 

"  In  close  connection  with  this  domestic  training,  the  ministra- 
tions of  the  Church  come  in,  under  a  more  public  form,  to  carrj- 
forward  the  same  work.  She  feels  herself  bound  to  watch  over  the 
children  born  in  her  bosom,  and  to  follow  them  with  counsel,  in- 
struction and  prayer,  from  one  3'ear  always  on  to  another.  They 
are  recjuired  to  attend  upon  the  services  of  the  sanctuar}^  Espe- 
cially, the  process  of  catechetical  instruction  is  employed  with 
constanc}^  and  patience,  to  cast,  if  possible,  both  the  understand- 
ing and  the  heart  into  the  mould  of  evangelical  doctrine. 

"  The  regular  administration  of  the  Word  and  Sacraments  forms, 
of  course,  an  essential  part  of  the  same  sj'stem.  The  ordinances 
of  the  sanctuary,  being  of  divine  institution,  are  regarded  as  chan- 
nels of  a  })ower  higher  than  themselves  ;  and  are  administered  ac- 


Chap.  XVIII]     thk  anxious  bench  controversy  173 

eordingly  "witli  such  earnestness  nnd  diligence  as  bespeak  a  proper 
confidence  in  their  virtue,  under  this  view. 

"And  then  to  crown  all  a  UruKj  ministry  is  needed  to  l>uild  up 
the  interests  of  Cliristianity  in  a  firm  and  sure- way  ;  a  ministry 
apt  to  teach;  sermons  full  of  unction  and  light;  zeal  for  the  inter- 
ests of  holiness ;  catechetical  training ;  due  attention  to  order  and 
discipline;  and  patient  perseverance  in  the  details  of  the  ministerial 
work.  And  then  the  system  includes  the  wide  range  of  the  proper 
pastoral  work,  as  distinguished  from  the  pulpit.  The  faithful  min- 
ister is  found  preaching  the  Gospel  like  Paul  from  house  to  house, 
as  well  as  in  a  more  public  way  ;  visiting  the  families  that  are  un- 
der his  care,  expressh^  for  this  purpose;  conversing  with  the  old 
and  the  young  on  the  great  subject  of  personal  religion;  mingling 
with  the  poor  in  their  humble  dwellings  as  well  as  with  those  in 
better  circumstances;  ministering  the  instructions  of  religion,  or 
its  consolations  at  the  bed  of  the  sick  or  dying;  and  in  one  word, 
laying  himself  out  in  continual  labors  of  love  towards  all,  as  the 
servant  of  all  for  Jesus'  sake.  In  these  circumstances,  the  holiness 
of  his  own  life  particularly  becomes  an  agency  powerful  l)eyond 
all  others,  to  recommend  and  enforce  the  Gospel  he  is  called  to 
preach.  His  very  presence  will  carry  with  it  the  weight  of  an  im- 
pressive testimony  in  f\ivor  of  the  truth. 

"These  are  the  agencies  by  which  alone  the  Kingdom  of  God 
ma}'  be  expected  to  go  steadily'  forward.  When  these  are  emplovcd 
there  will  be  revivals;  but  they  will  be  only  as  it  were  the  natural 
fruit  of  the  general  culture  going  before,  without  that  spasmodic, 
meteoric  character,  which  too  often  distinguishes  excitements  under 
this  name;  while  the  life  of  religion  will  show  itself  abidingly  at 
w'ork  in  the  reigning  temper  of  the  Church  at  all  other  times. 
Happy  the  congregation  that  ma}-  be  placed  under  such  spiritual 
auspices!  Happy  for  our  German  Zion,  if  such  might  be  the  sys- 
tem that  should  pi'CA'ail  to  the  exclusion  of  ever}-  other  within  her 
borders.  We  may  style  it,  for  the  sake  of  distinction,  the  system 
of  the  Catechism.  God  is  not  so  much  in  the  whirlwind,  earthquake 
and  tempest,  as  in  the  still  small  voice  of  the  falling  dew  or  grow- 
ing grass.'' 

The  i)nin|)liU't  of  fifty-six  i)ages  immediately  excited  attention. 
In  the  circumstances,  when  religious  excitements  ran  high,  it  was 
a  very  bold  thing  for  the  author,  a  professor  of  theology,  to  rebuke 
tlu'Hi.  It  exposed  him  to  the  danger  of  l»eing classed  with  "certain 
lewd  fvUows  of  the  baser  sort,"  who  were  o[)posed  to  all  kinds  of 
religion.     It  was  for  him  at  first  an  experiment  of  a  more  or  less 


174  AT   MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DlV.  YIII 

doubtful  character,  aud  for  a  time  at  least  he  was  anxious  to  know 
the  result.  His  mind,  however,  was  not  left  ver^^  long  in  suspense. 
Prominent  lawmen,  as  well  as  ministers  from  all  parts  of  the  Church, 
wrote  to  him  in  commendation  of  the  position  he  had  assumed. 
Among  these  were  some  from  whom  an  approval  was  more  or  less 
doubtful,  as  tlie}^  had  apparentl}'  committed  themselves  to  the  sjs- 
tem  of  new  measures.  The  3Iessenger,  the  organ  of  the  Church, 
up  to  this  time  not  ver}-  decided  one  way  or  the  other,  came  out  in 
an  editorial  from  Rev.  S.  R.  Fisher  endorsing  the  Tract  and  its  doc- 
trines. The  conservative  religious  press  generally  did  the  same 
thing.  The  Christian  Intelligencer,  Dutch  Reformed,  said  "the 
pamphlet  is  the  production  of  a  master  mind,  well  informed  and 
well  balanced  and  we  hope  it  will  have  a  wide  circulation;"  aud  the 
Presbyte7'ian,  ''that  Dr.  Nevin  had  in  a  thorough,  sober  and  forci- 
ble measure  expressed  the  new  measure  system  of  religion."  The 
Princeton  Review  noticed  the  Tract  in  highly  commendatory- terras, 
and  concurred  in  the  argument  against  the  Anxious  Bench  which 
by  a  false  zeal  had  been  "erected  into  a  third  sacrament." 

In  other  directions,  however,  as  was  expected,  the  Tract  excited 
an  intense  opposition,  ending  in  a  long  and  angry  controversy. 
Religious  excitements,  or  the  so-called  revivals,  were  the  order  of 
the  day  in  man}^  communities,  to  which  there  had  been  little  or  no 
hinderance;  but  now  a  voice  from  Mercersburg,  firm  and  decided, 
spoke  out  that  their  aggressive  spirit  should  go  no  farther,  so  far  at 
least  as  the  German  Churches  were  concerned,  if  it  could  possibly 
be  prevented.  It  was  not  long  before  the  issue  was  understood, 
and  there  was  no  lack  of  combatants  rushing  into  the  field.  Mr. 
Finney  had  a  few  disciples  in  the  Reformed  Church,  of  whom  the 
Rev.  Jacob  Helfenstein  was  the  most  ardent.  He  felt  it  incumbent 
on  himself  to  give  his  testimony,  in  a  number  of  articles,  against  a 
publication  which  he  considered  as  inimical  to  vital  godliness.  He 
admitted  what  he  called  the  abuses  of  the  revival  system,  but  de- 
fended the  system  itself  as  the  work  of  God.  Dr.  Nevin  consid- 
ered both  as  one  and  the  same  thing,  and  that  was  the  difference 
between  him  and  his  opponent  in  this  controversy.  Over  a  system 
that  left  out  the  sacramental  and  churchly  elements  of  Christianity, 
he  believed  that  he  was  authorized  to  write  the  word  "Tekel." 

The  Reformed  Synod  of  Ohio,  where  new  measures  were  in 
vogue,  recommended  to  its  ministers  to  read  with  candor  the  little 
book  from  the  East,  but  one  of  its  members,  less  noble  than  his 
brethren,  became  recalcitrant,  and  vowed  that  he  would  not  "touch 
the  wicked  little  thing  with  a  ten-foot  pole."    In  some  other  places 


Chap.  XVTII]     the  anxious  bench  controversy  115 

in  tlic  Cluiicli,  siinilnr  uauglity  speeches  were  made  l)y  emotional 
Christians  aoainst  the  "godless  professor,'' who  was  represented  as 
opposing  the  progress  of  true  religion.  Yarious  surrounding  bod- 
ies, predominantly  Methodistical,  among  whom  the  Anxious  Bench 
had  beconu'  more  or  less  a  means  of  grace,  thought  they  were  at- 
tacked as  denominations — a  palpable  mistake — and  that  it  was  their 
duty  to  repel  this  assault  upon  vital  Christianity.  Their  replies 
were  amusing  and  interesting  as  specimens  of  natural  simplicity. 

The  Tract  made  an  immediate  and  wide-spread  sensation  in  the 
Lutheran  Church,  fully  as  much  so  as  in  the  Reformed.  There 
the  two  parties,  the  old  and  the  new  schools,  were  gathering  to- 
gether into  two  different  camps,  and  their  relations  to  each  other 
were  strained.  The  former,  holding  fast  to  the  traditions  of  their 
grand  old  Cliurch,  were,  in  a  measure,  helpless  and  somewhat 
drowsy,  if  not  asleep,  like  their  Reformed  brethren  in  like  cir- 
cumstances. The  voice  from  Mercersburg  came  upon  them  like  a 
thunder-clai).  but  it  was  just  what  they  wished  to  hear.  Some  of 
their  clergy  were  quite  outspoken  and  encouraged  their  people  to 
read  the  Anxious  Bench,  which  they  were  in  f:ict  very  willing  to  do. 
It  was  a  subject  in  wliicli  they  were  interested  and  wished  for  informa- 
tion. When  they  were  told  that  the  writer,  Dr.  Nevin,  had  come 
from  the  Presbyterian  Church,  which  the}'  supposed  had  a  hand  in 
starting  the  so-called  new  measures,  their  wonder  was  only  in- 
creased. Never  l)efore  were  the  Lutherans  of  this  wing  more 
friendly  to  the  Reformed.  It  was  an  illustration  of  the  deep  unity 
subsisting,  in  fact,  between  the  two  denominations,  in  consequence 
of  which  no  vital  movement  could  take  place  in  the  one  without  af- 
fecting the  other. 

This  portion  of  tVter^utheran  Church  had  an  opportunity  to  ex- 
press itself  in  thcdiffglish  language  through  the  Lutheran  Standard^ 
published  in  the  West,  at  Columbus,  Ohio.  Its  first  editor,  Eman- 
uel (Jreenwalt,  had  travelled  on  horse-back  to  Ohio  from  Maryland 
as  :i  lici'iitiatc  in  1881,  and  labored  nu)re  or  less  as  a  missionary 
mil  il  1  s;;(;.  w  h^u  he  was  regularly  ordained.  In  1842,  while  serving 
uunu'ious  congregations,  hc^  was  elected  editor  of  the  Standard. 
AltlH)U;iili  surrounded  by  the  wildest  fanaticism  in  the  congregations, 
Ih'  i-ontinued  steadfast  in  the  moderate, conservative  Lutheran  faith 
whi<'h  ill'  had  brought  with  him  from  the  East.  As  an  editor  he  was 
decided  in  his  utterances,  and  when  the  Anxious  Bench  controversy 
broke  out  at  Mercersburg,  he  sustained  Dr.  Nevin,  extracted  largely 
from  his  i)amphlet  for  the  benefit  of  his  readers,  and  atlirmed  that 
"  the  [)ul)lication  was  timel}',  long  and  loudly  called  for."    His  paper 


ITG  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  VIII 

manifested  a  truly  Christian  spirit,  and  was  read  with  interest  both 
in  the  East  and  the  West.  Subsequently  Dr.  Greenwalt  became 
highly  useful  in  his  own  denomination,  wrote  a  number  of  edifying 
books,  and  served  in  various  responsible  positions  until  his  death 
in  188.5,  universally  esteemed  and  honored.  He  was  among  the 
first  to  call  forth  a  reaction  against  the  revival  system  in  favor  of 
conservative  Lutheranism,  and  was  a  prince  in  the  Lutheran  Israel 
of  this  countr}',  to  a  much  larger  extent  than  he  in  his  humble  es- 
timate of  himself  and  services  had  probably  imagined.  Of  him  it 
may  be  truthfully  said  that  his  works  do  follow  him. 

In  the  other  branch  of  the  sister  Church,  which  was  waking  up 
and  putting  off  dull  sloth  as  fast  as  it  could  in  the  diligent  use  of 
what  was  apparently  a  new  means  of  grace,  the  Mercersburg  pro- 
test was  well  received  and  regarded  as  opportune  b}^  many.  The 
system,  they  said,  had  been  useful  in  various  wa^'s,  but  it  had  had 
its  day,  and  ought  now  to  be  given  up  for  something  better.  They 
were  getting  tired  of  it.  A  larger  numl^er,  perhaps,  only  halted 
and  began  to  think.  There  were,  however,  likewise  many  others 
who  had  faith  in  it  and  thought  it  ought  to  be  upheld  as  the  mighty 
power  of  God.  Dr.  Benjamin  Kurtz,  editor  of  the  Lutheran  Ob- 
sercer  at  Baltimore,  one  of  the  most  prominent  organizers  of  the 
new  order  in  the  Lutheran  Church,  sometimes  called  its  eorypheus, 
instinctively  felt  that  his  own  position  was  compromised,  and  so 
he  went  to  work  to  fight  for  it.  He  wrote  many  articles  in  reply  to 
Dr.  Nevin's  book,  and  kept  toiling  at  his  up-hill  work  from  week  to 
week  until  his  readers  probably  became  tired  of  reading  his  papers. 
His  original  idea  was  to  publish  them  in  book-form,  but  the}'  were 
never  called  for  as  far  as  we  know.  They  would  have  probably 
made  a  larger  book  than  the  one  he  attemptti^-  -^  refute.  Dr.  Nevin 
had  said  something  about  women  and  young^^yersons  who  were 
most  liable  to  be  carried  along  in  a  religious  excitement,  in  reph'^ 
to  which  Dr.  Kurtz  replied  that  "  females  and  persons  who  were 
quite  3'oung  have  souls  to  be  saved,  as  well  as  men  and  persons  who 
are  advanced  in  years;  nay,  mere  boys  and  girls  have  an  eternal  in- 
terest pending;"  and  then  turning  on  his  opponent  he  asks  him 
"whether  hj^sterical  girls  have  not  souls  to  be  saved."  To  this  Dr. 
Nevin  replied  that  "  after  due  reflection  it  seems  necessary  to  answer 
this  searching  interrogatory  in  the  afflrmative.''^ 

The  Eev.  Reuben  Weiser,  one  of  Dr.  Kurtz's  warm  admirers,  at 
the  time,  engaged  in  reviA^als  in  the  mountain  districts  of  Bedford 
Co.,  Pa.,  and  full  of  the  revival  spirit,  published  a  somewhat  breezy 
pamphlet  on  the  Mourners'  Bench,  in  replv  to  the  Anxious  Bench. 


Chap.  XYIII]     thk  anxiois  BExcir  coxthovp^u.sy  177 

In  his  zeal  he  denounced  the  Meii-eisluirg  professor  as  well  as  his 
book,  beeause,  as  he  ailirmed,  he  was  interfering  with  (iod's  own 
work  on  earth.  He  used  some  of  the  terms  applied  to  the  piTSf- 
cutors  of  the  A])ostle  Panl  at  Thessaloniea,  wduch  need  not  here 
be  repeated.  Dr.  Nevin  noticctl  him  in  a  humorous  way,  st^ding 
him  the  "Mountain  blast,"  as  he  came  up  next  in  order  among  his 
assailants.  At  that  time  he  was  young  and  inexperienced,  but  he 
lived  to  grow  wiser  as  age  advanced.  A  few  3ears  ago  he  came 
out  in  the  Lxtheran  Ohserce?-,  in  an  admirable  article,  reviewing 
the  past,  and  to  the  surprise  of  evervl)ody  took  back  his  offensive 
language  towards  l)r.  Xevin,  and  allii'mcd  that  ho  was  then  con- 
vinced that  he  was  right  in  i)ublishing  such  a  work  as  he  did  at  the 
time.  Dr.  AVeiser  was  earnest  and  sincere  in  his  convictions,  and 
rendered  himself  useful  to  his  church  in  his  day  and  generation. 
Not  long  after  h's  noble  and  candid  letter  in  the  ()I»<errer,  he 
rested  from  his  labors  on  earth,  and  fell  asleep  in  the  Lord.  Others 
of  his  brethren  showed  equal  candor,  acknowledged  their  error  and 
thanked  Dr.  XeA'in  for  having  written  the  Tract  for  the  Times,  as 
something  called  for  in  its  day. 

Dr.  Xevin  waited  until  he  had  received  six  replies,  five  of  them 
from  different  denominations,  and  then  answered  them  all  in  a  sin- 
gle article  in  the  Messenger,  commencing  with  the  famous  quota- 
tion from  Yirgil : 

Veiiti,  rc/uf  (Kjininc  facfo, 
Qua  data  porta,  ruunf  et  terras  turbine  per/h/nf. 

His  notices  of  each  one  were  short,  crispy,  humorous,  and  good- 
natured,  and  produced  a  roar  of  laughter  throughout  the  churches. 
The  vindication  was  followed  by  several  other  more  lengtliy  articles 
of  a  defensive  character,  in  Avhich  the  wi'iter,  in  his  usual  trenchant 
stylo  showed  the  difference  between  "a  true  and  bastard  revival." 
This  practically  ended  the  controversy.  The  object  arrived  nt  in 
the  pul)lication  of  the  Anxious  Bench  was  secured.  The  system 
of  revivals  prevalent  at  the  time,  with  the  theory  underlying  them, 
was  weighed  and  found  wanting  in  the  churches  of  German  origin. 
The  Catechetical  system  was  rehabilitated,  the  Mercersburg  pro- 
fessor was  sustained,  and  he  was  allowed  full  freedom  to  labor  in 
building  up  true  historic  Christianity  in  harmony  with  its  spirit 
and  life.  The  controversy  was  attended  with  benefits  in  m:iny  di- 
rections. Its  influence  on  the  Lutheran  branch  of  tiie  (Jernian 
Church  Avas  in  many  respects  salutary;  in  theReformed.it  was  the 
turning  point  in  its  theological  and  religious  lif(>.  from  which  fol- 
lowed its  subsequent  churchly  tendeuc-y  and  many  other  useful  re- 
sults— as  a  healthv  historical  reaction. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

TT  was  cnstomary  for  the  Goethean  Literary  Society  of  Marshall 
-L  College  to  celebrate  the  anniversary  of  the  birth-day  of  Goethe, 
on  the  19th  of  Angnst,  on  which  occasion  some  one,  generally  a  pro- 
fessor, was  secured  to  pronounce  a  suitable  discourse.  Dr.  Ranch  had 
thus  delivered  a  very  elaborate  eulogy  on  Goethe  and  his  command- 
ing genius,  which  unhappily  has  never  appeared  in  print.  In  the 
year  1842  it  devolved  on  Dr.  ^^Tevin  to  deliver  the  usual  address, 
when  he  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  to  call  the  attention  of 
the  students  to  the  great  and  noble  language  which  Goethe  spoke, 
of  which  his  writings  were  at  the  same  time  the  mirror  and  the 
brightest  ornament.  Its  characteristic  merits  and  its  claims  upon 
the  regard  of  American  students  constituted  the  theme  of  the  dis- 
course. By  this  time  the  speaker  had  fully  mastered  the  language 
himself,  and  was  well  qualified  to  introduce  it  to  others.  His 
thoughts  on  the  subject  are  still  as  worthy  of  attention  as  when 
they  were  expressed  in  his  own  vigorous  language,  and  we  there- 
fore furnish  the  reader  the  entire  address,  which  is,  in  part  at  least, 
a  philosophical  essay,  omitting  the  introduction. 

To  deal  with  the  subject  properly,  we  must  attempt  in  the  first 
place  to  give  some  account  of  the  nature  of  language  in  general, 
with  the  view  of  showing  on  what  grounds  and  under  what  views  it 
deserves  to  be  made  in  any  case  an  object  of  study.  Only  in  this 
way  can  we  reasonably  expect  to  come  to  any  satisfactory  result,  in 
trying  to  estimate  the  comparative  worth  of  the  German,  or  any 
other  particular  language,  to  which  our  attention  may  be  turned. 
Yast  ignorance  and  error  prevail  very  generally  on  this  subject. 
To  Germany  in  particular,  above  all  other  lands,  is  the  world  indebt- 
ed, in  modern  times,  for  even  a  partial  insight  into  the  great  and 
stupendous  mystery  which  is  here  brought  into  view.  No  field  of 
inquiry  perhaps  has  yielded  more  beautiful  or  splendid  results. 

Language  stands  in  the  most  intimate  and  vital  connection  with 
thought.  There  is  no  room  for  the  supposition  of  the  latter,  in  the 
case  of  the  human  mind,  apart  from  the  presence  of  the  former.  We 
cannot  with  any  propriety  speak  of  either,  as  older  than  the  other. 
When  the  question  is  debated,  whether  language  be  of  human  or 
divine  origin,  a  wrong  view  of  the  case,  as  it  regards  this  point,  is 

(HS) 


Chap.  XIX]  tiif  (iKKM.VN  language  1T9 

eommonly  taken  on  lioth  sides.     Those  who  suppose  it  to  have  heeii 
invented  by  man,  and  those  who  refer  it  to  supernatural  coniniuui- 
eation.  have  seemed  generally  to  agree  in  thinking  that  the  mind 
might  Le  developed,  to  some  eonsiderable  extent,  before  the  use  of 
language  was  enjoyed.     In  the  first  case,  reason  has  been  regarded 
as  designing  and  contriving  an  artificial  scheme  for  its  own  accom- 
modation ;  while  according  to  the  other  hypothesis,  the  convenience 
is  supposed  to  have  been  provided   for  it  by   special   inspiration, 
answerable  to  the  demands  of  the  case.     Under  both  views,  the  re- 
lation between  speech  and  thought  is  taken  to  be  merely  external. 
The  use  of  language,  it  is  assumed,  is  simply  to  serve  as  a  medium  for 
the  communication  of  thought.     In  its  whole  nature,  accordingly, 
it  is  made  to  api)ear  comparatively  mechanical  and  dead  ;  as  though 
the  proper  life  of  the  mind  were  something  difl^'erent  altogether, 
Avhich  has  come  only  by  arbitrary  conventional  usage  among  men 
to  be  represented  in  this  way.     Uut  every  such  conception  of  the 
case  is  superficial  and  false.     Language  is  no  invention  of  man. 
Neither  is  it  on  the  other  hand  an  instrument,  with  which  he  has 
been  furnished,  ready  made,  from  God.     It  is  the  natural,  necessary 
product  of  his  own  spiritual  nature.     It  is  a  constituent  part  of  the 
life  of  the  soul  itself.     This  cannot  be  developed  without  manifest- 
ing itself  under  this  form.     As  the  germ,  in  a  lower  sphere  of  ex- 
istence, throws  forth  stem  and  leaves,  in  the  mere  process  of  growth, 
so  the  rational  nature  of  man  expands  itself  from  the  beginning  in  the 
form  of  thought  and  speech.     Where  the  one  has  begun  to  appear, 
there  the  other  must  show  itself  at  the  same  time.     To  talk  of  con- 
trivance, calculation  or  conventional  understanding,  as  concerned 
in  the  i)roduction  of  language,  is  just  as  absurd  as  it  would  be  to 
talk  of  any  thing  of  the  sort  as  concerned  in  the  production  of 
thf)ught  itself.     The  body  is  not  more  strictly  united  in  one  life 
with  the  soul,  than  language  is  with  the  exercise  of  reason.     The 
two  forms  of  life  are  in  their  ground  indeed  identical.     To  think,  is 
to  speak.     Language  is  necessary,  not  simply  for  the  communica- 
liou  of  tliought,  but  for  its  existence  also  and  development.     Ideas 
must  become  concrete,  in  the  form  of  T\:ords,  to  be  distinctly  dis- 
cerned, and  i)ermanently  retained  by  the  mind,  from  whose  depths 
the^-  sjjring.     The  Avorkings  of  the  soul  continue  altogether  chaotic, 
till  language  comes  in  to  give  shape  to  its  creations;  and  order  and 
light  within  it  keep  pace  afterwards  exactly  with  the  power  of  using 
words.     The  internal  and  the  external,  in  the  case,  go  liand  in  hand 
together. 

Undi-r  this  view  then,  lanunaue,  like  all  life,  is  organic.     It  is  not 


180  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    lSlO-1844  [DiV.   YIII 

made  up  of  a  (ireat  multitude  of  parts,  brouji'lit  mechanically  to- 
gether in  an  external  way.  It  cA'olves  itself,  as  a  whole,  from  its 
own  living  ground  in  the  soul,  deriving  both  form  and  substance 
from  the  creative  force  which  it  carries  in  its  own  nature.  Its 
principle  is  in  itself,  and  not  in  any  thing  out  of  itself.  Like  the 
growth  of  the  plant,  like  the  development  of  the  animal  from  the 
piincfum  salieus  upwards  and  outwards  to  mature  life,  it  is  strictly 
and  altogether  an  organic  production.  It  is  indeed  the  evolution 
of  the  life  of  the  mind  itself,  the  form  in  which  it  becomes  concrete. 
By  means  of  language,  thought  makes  its  escape  from  the  germ,  in 
which  it  would  otherwise  continue  to  sleep  as  a  mere  possibility, 
and  emerges  into  the  sphere  of  reality.  Language  is  thought  itself 
corporealized  and  made  external,  and  it  must  be  penetrated  of 
course  with  the  same  organic  life  in  all  its  parts. 

The  different  languages  then  that  exist  in  the  world  are  the  types 
of  so  many  different  conformations  of  mind,  into  which  the  general 
life  of  the  human  race  has  come  to  be  cast.  If  it  be  asked,  why 
there  should  lie  so  many  languages  instead  of  one,  if  the  growth  of 
speech  be  thus  organic  and  necessary;  we  have  only  to  ask  again 
in  repl^^,  why  the  mind  itself,  as  it  spreads  itself  out  in  countless 
ramifications,  is  found  existing  under  so  many  phases,  as  various 
as  the  forms  of  speech  which  have  come  into  use.  The  origin  of 
language,  and  its  meaning  universally,  must  be  sought  in  the  nisus 
or  effort  of  the  soul  to  develop  itself  in  a  way  suitable  to  its  own 
nature.  But  this  nisus,  modified  and  controlled  by  the  diversified 
educational  influences  which  have  wrought  upon  mind  in  different 
circumstances,  has  never  yet  accomplished  more  than  an  approx- 
imation, under  various  forms,  towards  the  resolution  of  its  own 
problem.  As  in  the  world  of  nature  no  individual  form  fully  ex- 
presses the  idea  of  the  species  to  which  it  belongs,  so  here  no 
language  can  be  regarded  as  a  full,  perfectly  symmetrical,  and  abso- 
lutely transparent,  corporification  of  the  true  inward  life  of  thought; 
although  that  is  the  ideal  which  it  has  heen  proposed  in  every  case 
to  realize.  The  several  languages  of  the  world  are  the  results,  we 
may  say,  of  so  many  distinct  efforts  on  the  part  of  the  soul,  to 
evolve  in  an  adequate  way  its  own  life,  conditioned  and  determined 
by  the  circumstances  in  which  it  has  been  variously  placed.  Each 
one  accordingly  is  the  standing  type  of  the  mental  conformation, 
out  of  which  it  originally  took  its  rise;  and  in  this  form,  it  rules 
and  controls  also  the  life  of  thought  itself.  Language  once  estab- 
lished becomes  the  necessary  channel  of  thinking  for  the  peojile  to 
whom  it  belongs.     Vast  differences  may  characterize  the  mental  life 


ClIAI".   XIX]  THE    HERMAN    EAN(iUAC!E  181 

of  a  nation,  parti}' constitutional  and  partly  the  result  of  education. 
The  range  of  thought  in  one  case  may  be  immensel}-  more  free  and 
large  than  it  is  in  another.  And  so  in  different  ages,  the  same 
nation  may  present  widely  different  aspects  of  cultivation.  The 
sphere  of  its  thinking  ma}'  be  eontinuall}'  growing  more  wide,  so 
that  no  comparison  shall  seem  to  hold  between  the  poverty  of  its 
conceptions  in  one  age  and  their  overflowing  fulness  in  another. 
Still  under  all  these  differences,  we  say,  the  life  of  the  nation  carries 
upon  it  its  own  distinctive  form,  represented  and  at  the  same  time 
determined  by  the  language  in  which  it  is  accustomed  to  think  and 
speak.  'Iliis  is  the  mould  in  which  thought  is  cast,  from  generation 
to  generation.  The  identity  of  an  organism  does  not  depend  on  its 
external  volume.  The  twig  may  grow  to  be  a  giant  oak,  and  yet 
its  life  will  be  the  same.  So  a  language  may  admit  indefinite  ex- 
pansion, and  with  its  expansion  mind  may  spread  itself  out  with 
corresponding  volume;  but  in  the  end  the  language  carries  the  same 
type,  and  embraces  the  same  conformation  of  thought.  It  is  expan- 
sion in  a  certain,  kind,  and  according  to  a  certain  organic  law. 
Thought  continues  free  and  creative,  but  not  absolutely :  it  must 
act  in  the  direction  of  the  general  life  to  which  it  belongs.  Thus  the 
language  of  every  people  is  at  once  the  creature  and  the  creator  of 
its  specific  intellectual  and  moral  life. 

Thus  we  are  pre[)ared  to  estimate,  in  a  general  way,  the  import- 
ance of  the  study  of  languages.  The  grounds  on  which  this  is  made 
to  rest  frequently  by  its  advocates  are  such  as  may  be  considered 
treasonable  to  the  cause  they  are  adduced  to  sui)port.  Language, 
is  the  life  of  the  soid,  externallv  considered.  To  study  a  lano-uase 
tlien,  is  to  study  the  soul  itself,  under  one  of  the  manifold  forms  in 
Avhich  it  is  found  struggling  to  bring  its  secret  nature  Into  light. 
No  subject,  rightly  ai)prehended,  can  be  less  mechanical  and  dead; 
no  study  better  adapted  to  form  and  improve  the  mind, 'in  an  edu- 
cational way.  Such  study  is  not  a  mere  work  of  memory,  employed 
in  treasuring  up  words  and  rules  ;  it  is  a  constant  exerciSe  in  think- 
ing, and  in  no  other  way  can  the  same  discipline,  under  'this  view, 
be  as  well  secured.  To  master  the  language  of  a  people  is  at  the 
same  time  to  enter  their  spirit,  and  to  become  acquainted  with  their 
character,  as  it  never  can  be  understood  without  this  by, any  other 
form  of  observation.  The  history  of  a  nation,  its  customs  and  in- 
stitutions, become  fairly  intelligible,  only  when  we  are  enabled  to 
api)r()acli  them  through  the  medium  of  its  own  tongue.  In  making 
oursi'lvcs  familiar  witli  the  language  of  a  nation,  we  penetrate  as  it 
were  into  the  inmost  recesses  of  its  life.     Whatever  knowledge  we 


182  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

may  seem  to  have  of  it  without  this,  must  be  considered  superficial 
and  more  or  less  visionary.  We  cannot  understand  the  mind  which 
a  language  embodies  simply  b^'  report.  It  is  not  enough  to  be  told, 
in  our  own  tongue,  what  men  of  a  different  speech  have  thought, 
and  spoken  and  done.  All  that  can  give  us  only  dead  representa- 
tions of  their  life,  which  to  become  animated  again  for  us  at  all,  are 
made  to  borrow  a  new  spirit  from  ourselves,  and  so  to  appear  under 
a  complexion  and  expression  fareign  altogether  from  their  original 
nature.  B3'  being  forced  simply  to  pass  over  to  our  sphere  of  think- 
ing, the  life  of  a  foreign  people  is  in  fact  cast  into  a  new  mould  and 
clothed  with  a  new  form.  To  understand  it  fairly,  we  must  forsake 
our  own  sphere  and  pass  over  ourselves  into  the  foreign  world,  in 
which  it  has  its  true  and  proper  home.  We  must  commune  with  it, 
in  its  own  language.  There  it  meets  us  in  its  actual  concrete  shape. 
There  it  has  its  own  complexion  and  expression.  There  it  becomes 
intelligible.  And  now  its  literature,  history,  legislation,  science 
and  social  life,  begin  to  appear  in  their  true  light  also.  The  key  by 
which  their  secret  significance  is  finall^^  brought  into  view  is  the 
spirit  of  the  nation  corporealized  in  its  language. 

Every  new  language,  then,  which  the  student  masters  widens  the 
region  of  his  soul,  and  renders  his  inward  life,  intellectually  con- 
sidered, more  large  and  free.  The  man  who  has  never  been  from 
home  is  apt  to  make  his  own  particular  existence  the  measure  of 
the  absolute  and  the  universal.  Restricted  to  one  single  stand-point 
of  observation,  and  pent  up  in  the  narrow  sphere  of  his  individual 
history,  he  is  accustomed  to  think  of  all  that  lies  beyond  as  bar- 
barous and  wrong,  exactly  in  the  proportion  in  which  it  may  varj' 
from  his  own  experience.  Travelling  is  well  suitedto  overcome  the 
force  of  this  narrow  habit.  Reading  generally,  where  it  is  wisely 
conducted,  ma}-  be  made  happily  to  serve  the  same  purpose.  By 
quitting  his  own  position,  and  entering  into  contact  with  other 
forms  of  life,  remote  either  in  space  or  in  time,  the  man  who  thus 
goes  abroad  finds  the  sphei'e  of  his  existence  made  more  wide  and 
free.  So  in  the  case  before  us.  To  enter  a  new  language,  is  to 
burst  the  barriers  which  have  previously  circumscribed  the  life  of 
the  soul.  It  is  indeed  the  same  life  which  animates  the  human 
nature,  wherever  it  is  to  be  found.  But  it  is  the  same  life  under 
various  aspects,  and  turning  different  sides  of  its  manifold  gen- 
erality to  the  view  of  the  beholder.  Every  language  presents  it 
under  a  phase,  which  is  peculiarly-  its  own.  As  we  enter  other  lan- 
guages, we  make  ourselves  at  home  to  the  same  extent  in  foreign 
systems  of  thought.     The  idea  of  mind  in  its  generality  is  brought 


CllAI'.  XIX]  THE    UEnMAX    LANGUAGE  183 

home  to  our  consciousness.  The  piirticular  is  no  h^noer  mistaken 
for  the  universal.  Our  existence  is,  as  it  were,  multiplied,  and 
made  to  have  more  than  a  single- side.  Without  this,  avc  arc  not 
prepared  to  estimate  properly  foreign  modes  of  being,  intellectual 
or  moral.  There  is  ahva^-s  indeed  a  measure  of  presumption  in- 
volved in  our  conduct,  where  we  undertake  to  pronounce  an  abso- 
lute judgment  on  the  character  of  a  people,  or  upon  their  mental 
constitution,  without  having  first  entered  the  sphere  of  their  actual 
life,  in  some  measure  at  least,  l)v  making  ourselves  acquainted  with 
their  language. 

We  may  see  finally,  from  the  view  now  presented  of  the  general 
nature  of  language,  on  what  ground  we  are  authorized  to  attril)ute 
to  some  languages  an  instrinsic  superiority  over  others.  The  end 
contemplated  in  speech  is  in  all  cases  one  and  the  same.  It  springs 
universally  from  the  nisus  of  the  roul,  to  evolve  itself  in  a  concrete 
form.  Under  the  action  of  this  deep  mysterious  force,  thought  and 
language  burst  forth  simultaneoush-,  like  the  vegetal)le  sprout 
breaking  from  its  germ,  and  form  thenceforward  an  inseparable  life. 
The  problem  to  be  solved  in  the  case,  when  languages  had  their 
origin,  was  the  production  of  a  living  form  that  should  fully  reveal, 
with  adequate  and  exactly  commensurate  expression,  the  organic 
idea  of  the  mind  itself.  The  various  languages  that  appear  are  the 
result  of  so  many  different  efibrts  made  to  realize  this  end.  All  of 
course  cannot  be  equally  perfect  The^'  are  different,  as  being  more 
or  less  successful  approaches  to  the  ideal,  which  it  has  been  the 
object  of  all  to  reach.  They  excel  in  the  degree,  in  which  the}-  are 
internally  fitted  to  forward  a  free,  full,  sj-mmetrical  growth  of  the 
spirit,  in  its  most  general  form.  A  perfect  language  would  be  like 
a  garment  of  light,  unfolding  with  clear  transjjarency  the  life  it  was 
formed  to  invest  and  rei)resent.  Among  existing  languages,  some 
approximate  to  this  perfection  much  more  nearl}'  than  others,  and 
are  entitled  to  respect  and  admiration  accordingly.  It  is  not  the 
amount  of  its  literature  then  simph' — although  this  may  reasonably 
be  taken  as  a  separate  consideration  to  recommend  the  study  of  it — 
that  forms  the  distinctive  worth  of  a  particular  language.  Xor  is 
this  determined  by  the  mere  cultivation,  with  which  it  may  have 
been  refined  and  enriched  in  its  own  nature,  under  any  view.  A 
language  may  be  comparatively  poor  in  words  at  a  given  time,  and 
yet  vastly  superior  in  its  constitution  to  another,  whose  words  are 
like  the  leaves  of  the  forest.  The  perfection  of  an  organic  produc- 
tion must  never  be  measured  by  its  volume.  Cultivation  in  the 
case  of  a  language  cannot  change  its  organic  nature,  cannot  trans- 


184  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

fund  it  into  a  new  and  different  type.  It  may  grow  and  become 
continually  more  rich  in  words;  but  as  a  garment  for  the  soul,  it 
must  remain  always  substantiall}-  the  same.  Thus  a  rude  barbarous 
people  may  have  a  language,  which  shall  instrinsically  surpass  that 
of  the  most  polished ;  and  all  that  may  be  wanted  to  make  the 
superiority  clear  to  all,  would  be  in  such  a  case  that  it  should  be 
organically  extended  to  such  volume,  as  to  make  it  parallel  with 
the  other  in  point  of  cultivation.  The  main  difference  between  lan- 
guages lies  in  their  intrinsic  character,  without  regard  to  culture, 
and  forms  a  part  of  their  original  inalienable  constitution. 

I  proceed  now  to  consider  directly,  as  proposed  in  the  beginning, 
the  grounds  on  which  I  conceive  the  German  language  in  particular 
to  be  entitled  to  respect  as  an  object  of  stud}',  especially  in  our  cir- 
cumstances. The  views,  which  have  been  given  of  the  nature  of 
language  in  general,  will  not  be  without  their  use,  it  is  trusted,  in 
assisting  us  to  come  to  an  intelligent  judgment  on  this  subject.  It 
will  not  be  expected,  however,  that  I  should  attempt  to  determine 
the  precise  value  of  the  German  language,  intrinsically  considered, 
as  compared  with  other  languages,  ancient  or  modern,  according  to 
the  theoretic  principles  which  have  now  been  stated.  I  entertain 
no  such  presumptuous  thought;  and  will  not  consider  it  necessary, 
therefore,  to  confine  myself  to  views,  carrjing  in  any  measure  the 
form  of  a  regular  practical  application  of  the  theory.  My  object  is 
simply  to  recommend  the  German  language  to  your  respect,  by  anj^ 
considerations  that  may  seem  to  be  pertinent  to  the  purpose — 
satisfied  if  the  remarks  thus  far  made  on  the  subject  of  language  in 
general  may  onl}-  assist,  under  any  point  of  view,  directly  or  indi- 
rectly, in  leading  to  a  correct  estimate  of  the  case. 

The  physician,  Goropias^  maintained  that  the  German  language 
was  spoken  b^-  our  first  parents  in  the  Garden  of  Eden.  Without 
challenging  for  it  this  high  and  venerable  antiquity,  we  ma}-  be 
allowed  to  refer  to  its  origin  and  history,  under  a  different  view,  as 
a  primary  ground  of  distinction  in  its  favor.  It  differs  from  all  the 
other  cultivated  languages  of  modern  Europe,  in  being,  to  borrow 
a  term  from  itself,  "eine  Ursprache,''  a  primitive  language,  and  not 
one  of  mixed  origin  and  constitution.  It  is  not  meant  by  this,  that 
it  has  had  its  source  strictly  in  itself,  as  it  now  exists.  Recent  in- 
vestigations have  shown  quite  clearl}-  that  it  sprang  originally,  as 
did  also  the  Latin,  Greek  and  Persian,  from  the  oriental  Sanskrit. 
But  however  it  maj^  have  started,  it  carries  in  its  nature  all  the  dis- 
tinctive properties  of  a  primitive  tongue.  It  is  the  original  Teu- 
tonic language,  as  it  was  brought  with  the  race  who  spoke  it  from 


ClIAP.   XIX]  THE    HERMAN    LANGUAGE  185 

Asia  to  Euroi)C.  The  general  language  was  not  thus  preserved 
by  all  the  tribes  of  Teutonic  origin.  It-  maintained  its  ground 
only  among  the  Germans,  strictly  so  called.  They  kept  themselves 
permanently  to  the  same  soil,  and  held  fast  to  the  language  of  their 
fathers.  In  other  cases,  the  stock  assumed  a  new  complexion  by 
mingling  with  other  races,  and  fell  at  the  same  time  into  new  forms 
of  language.  The  languages  of  modern  Eui'ope,  generally,  are  mixed 
in  their  composition.  The  Italian,  Spanish  and  French  are  made 
up  to  a  great  extent  of  material  supplied  from  the  Latin.  The 
English  is  the  old  Saxon,  filled  out  with  forms  from  the  Latin, 
Greek  and  French.  These  languages  do  not  indeed  cease  to  be 
organic,  b}-  being  thus  mixed.  Each  of  them  has  still  its  own  soul, 
throwing  forth  its  distinctive  life  in  all  the  parts  of  which  it  is  com- 
posed. The  mixture  by  which  it  grows  is  not  in  the  way  of  out- 
ward accretion  simply.  The  foreign  material  is  taken  up  into  the 
system,  so  as  to  form  with  it  one  life.  But  the  growth  of  a  lan- 
guage, in  such  circumstances,  must  be  more  or  less  stunted  and 
cramped ;  like  the  growth  of  a  ti'ee,  planted  in  some  uncongenial 
soil  or  excluded  from  the  open  light  of  heaven.  The  development 
cannot  be  free,  full  and  harmonious ;  and  it  will  be  characterized  by 
some  want  of  sj^mmetry  and  compact  strength,  answerable  to  the 
extent  in  which  the  union  of  heterogeneous  elements  may  prevail. 
From  this  defect  the  German  is  entirely  clear.  Its  life  is  all  its 
own.  Like  the  free  and  hardy  race,  whose  spirit  it  is  made  to 
mirror,  it  has  in  all  ages  refused  to  bend  its  neck  to  a  foreign  yoke. 
In  this  respect  it  is  as  primitive  and  original  as  the  Greek,  which  it 
resembles  in  all  points  more  than  any  other  modern  tongue. 

It  might  however  be  thus  primitive  in  its  constitution,  and  yet 
have  no  great  claims  upon  our  respect.  It  might  be  in  point  of 
development  rude  and  circumscribed,  like  the  language  of  one  of 
our  own  Indian  tribes,  which  nobody  Init  a  missionary  or  a  trader 
is  concerned  to  study.  But  this  is  not  the  case.  Tlie  German  lan- 
guage did  not  indeed  perfect  itself  so  rapidly  as  the  mixed  tongues 
with  which  it  has  just  been  compared.  Their  form  in  tliis  respect 
was  perhai)S  favorable,  within  certain  limits,  to  their  progress. 
Their  life  appeared  more  on  the  surface,  and  was  on  this  account 
more  easily  matured.  In  due  time,  however,  the  German  came  up 
with  them,  in  the  career  of  cultivation.  As  a  language  it  may  be 
said  now  to  have  reached  a  ripe  and  full  development.  It  has  Hung 
its  branches  far  and  wide,  and  covered  itself  with  innumerable  leaves 
and  blossoms.  It  has,  through  various  fortunes,  fairly  reached  at 
last  its  Augustan  age;  and,  whether  the  breadth,  or  depth  or  in- 
12 


186  ■  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  VIII 

trinsic  wealth  of  its  literature  be  regarded,  it  may  justly  challenge 
comparison,  to  say  the  least,  with  any  of  the  tongues  in  which  the 
civilization  of  modern  Europe  is  accustomed  to  speak. 

As  a  primitive  language,  the  German  is  remarkabl}'  full  and  rich 
in  point  of  matter.  It  has  been  sometimes  indeed  stigmatized  as 
poor  under  this  view  by  the  admirers  of  the  French  tongue.  But 
no  judgment  could  well  be  more  wide  of  the  mark.  While  the 
French  is  said  to  contain  about  28,000  words,  it  has  been  reckoned 
that  there  are  in  the  German  not  less  than  80,000.  One  writer 
carries  the  computation  six  times  as  high,  and  places  it  at  half  a 
million;  which  may  be  allowed  to  be  sufficiently  extravagrant. 
The  truth  is,  however,  it  is  not  easy  to  say  where  a  computation  of 
this  kind  should  stop,  in  the  case  uf  the  German  tongue.  The 
modifications  of  meaning  which  words  are  made  to  assume  by  in- 
flection, position,  combination,  and  production,  cannot  easily  be 
specified.  The  language  may  be  said  to  be,  in  this  respect  indeed, 
capable  of  an  indefinite  extension.  No  limits  can  be  placed  upon 
its  growth.  It  can  never  be  said  of  it  that  it  has  become  perfect ; 
for  that  would  imply  fixed  boundaries  and  borders,  bej^ond  which 
its  life  could  not  pass.  We  can  only  say  of  it  that  it  is  perfentible. 
Its  life  is  formed  for  constant  expansion  and  refuses  to  be  circum- 
scribed by  any  bounds. 

As  it  regards  radical  or  stem-words,  the  German  falls  far  behind 
the  French.  This  might  seem,  at  first  view,  to  conflict  with  the  gen- 
eral representations  now  given  of  its  fulness  and  wealth.  It  is  how- 
ever in  fact  in  full  coiTespondence  with  it.  The  German  language 
has  few  roots,  because  it  is  original  and  self-produced.  Its  ground 
is  wholly  within  itself.  The  French,  on  the  other  hand,  has  appro- 
priated a  large  amount  of  foreign  material.  This  has  no  root  or 
ground  in  the  language  itself,  and  being  separated  from  its  original 
foundation,  is  made  to  bear  of  course  an  independent  form.  Hence 
a  multitude  of  words  stand  as  roots,  simply  because  they  do  not 
spring  from  the  life  of  the  language  itself.  They  are  of  foreign 
growth,  and  become  stem-words  only  by  having  been  torn  away 
from  their  natural  connections,  and  forced  into  a  system  to  which 
genealogically  they  do  not  belong.  The  multitude  of  its  radical  or 
primary  forms,  in  the  case  of  the  French,  as  compared  with  the  sum 
total  of  the  language,  is  a  striking  argument  of  its  poverty. 

And  here  it  may  be  remarked,  at  the  same  time  by  the  way,  that 
the  French  must  ever  be  for  the  reason  now  presented  also  a  diffi- 
cult language  to  learn,  for  those  who  have  not  been  accustomed  to 
speak  it  from  childhood.     A  different  opinion,  I  am  aware,  is  gen- 


Chap.  XTX]  the  German  language  187 

erally  entertained  with  regard  to  this  point.  Boarding  school 
misses,  and  fasliionable  yonng  gentlemen  with  the  most  common 
breadth  of  brain,  can  be  tanght  to  jabber  something  that  sounds 
like  it,  in  the  course  of  a  few  months.  But  so  can  an  active  parrot 
master  phrases  too,  with  quite  imposing  success,  and  be  only  a 
parrot  Avhen  all  is  done.  Such  mechanical  exploits  involve  no 
knowledge.  Where  a  large  portion  of  the  words  of  a  language  are 
primary,  having  no  internal  aflinity,  and  no  common  ground,  wide 
room  is  given  for  uncertain  and  fluctuating  phases  of  sense.  A 
great  deal  must  be  perfectl}'  arbitrary,  and  liable  to  constant 
change.  Only  the  most  intimate  familiarit}'  with  the  actual  usus 
loquendi,  in  those  circumstances,  can  be  sufficient  to  reduce  the 
Protean  system  to  a  clear  representation  for  the  mind.  The  French 
language,  accordingly,  is  seldom  mastered  by  foreigners,  so  as  to 
make  them  tolerable  in  the  use  of  it  to  those  who  speak  it  as  their 
native  tongue.  The  German,  on  the  other  hand,  with  its  boundless 
sea  of  words,  is  b}'  no  means  so  difficult  to  master.  Its  roots  are 
not  numerous.  Its  forms  of  deriAation  and  composition  are  fixed. 
Words  are  kept  in  their  place,  b^-  the  force  of  the  common  life, 
which  bj'  innumerable  ramifications  binds  them  together  as  one 
great  whole.  Let  onl}'  the  life  of  the  language  be  penetrated,  and 
it  becomes  a  comparatively  easy  thing  to  follow  it  afterwards  in  its 
organic  development,  no  matter  how  far  it  may  be  extended. 

The  German  owes  its  wealth  of  words  to  the  capacit}'  for  expan- 
sion, y^-hich  it  carries  in  its  own  nature.  This  imfolds  itself  mainly 
in  two  forms,  boundless  composition  and  endless  derivation.  Words 
of  all  sorts  can  be  joined  together,  with  the  most  perfect  ease,  so  as 
to  give  new  terms,  in  which  two  different  thoughts  are  made  to  meet 
in  a  third.  Almost  every  word,  by  prefixes  and  suffixes  of  invari- 
able force,  can  be  made  to  shoot  out  into  a  whole  tree  of  derivatives, 
by  which  its  meaniug  is  modified  in  all  conceivable  wa^-s.  The 
Greek  is  uncommonl}^  rich  in  this  power  of  self-enlargement.  No 
language  of  antiquity  had  the  same  expansibility,  and  no  language 
accordingly  was  so  free  or  so  full.  The  only  modern  tongue  that 
may  be  compared  with  it.  under  this  view,  is  the  German.  This 
ma}'  well  be  considered  a  proud  distinction.  So  far  as  derivation 
is  concerned,  the  German  is  supposed  to  leave  even  the  Greek  be- 
hind. To  estimate  proi)erly  its  whole  advantage  as  it  regards  in- 
trinsic fruitfulness,  Let  it  be  compared  again  with  the  so-called  court 
language  of  Europe.  The  French  has  almost  no  expansibility.  It 
may  be  said  to  press  already,  at  every  point,  on  its  established 
limits.     It  cannot  compound  with  an\'  sort  of  freedom.     Many  of 


188  AT    MERCEKSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DlY.  YIII 

its  stem-words  are  perfectl}'  barren,  while  the  rest  of  them  are  pro- 
ductive only  to  a  small  extent.  No  fixed  and  universal  analogies 
rule  the  process  of  derivation,  as  far  as  it  is  allowed  to  proceed. 
All  is  arbitrarj',  irregular,  cold  and  stifle.  The  superiorit}- of  the 
German  is  like  that  of  the  giant  forest  oak  over  some  slim  poplar, 
shooting  upwards  from  a  cit_y  pavement. 

"  Our  language,"  sa3'-s  Franz  Horn,  "is  one  of  free  origin,  spring- 
ing directly  out  of  our  nature.  It  is  firmly  settled  in  its  root, 
which  is  immovable  as  necessity  itself;  but  its  blossoms  and  fruits 
are  eternally  manifold  and  eternally  young.  Our  language  is  rich; 
not  like  a  well  stored  cabinet  of  artificial  curiosities,  but  rich  as  the 
spiritual  nature  of  man  himself,  and  like  this  susceptible  of  indefi- 
nite improvement.  It  cannot,  in  the  way  of  languages  of  unfree 
constitution,  be  materially  ended,  and  rounded  in,  as  a  finished 
system;  but  throws  itself  open  still,  with  ever  new  life,  to  the 
service  of  true  genius,  wherever  utterance  is  required  for  new 
thoughts  and  feelings."  The  French,  on  the  contrary,  he  tells  us, 
boasts  of  being  shut  up  and  completed,  and  it  is  made  a  great  point, 
since  the  age  of  Louis  XI Y,  to  maintain  its  boundaries  inviolate; 
so  that  writers  of  spirit  have  to  complain  that  they  cannot  sa^"  what 
they  would,- by  reason  of  the  restraints  of  the  language. 

To  make  full  account,  however,  of  the  wealth  of  the  German  lan- 
guage, we  must  consider  the  inward  character  of  the  materials  in 
which  this  wealth  consists.  It  has  been  already  intimated,  that  it 
is  emphaticall}'  a  living  language.  All  languages  necessarilj' 
embody  life;  but  some  have  a  great  deal  more  of  it  than  others. 
The  vitality  of  some  is  sickl}-  and  weak,  while  that  of  others  is 
characterized  b}'  energy  and  strength.  The  French  may  be  taken 
here  again  as  a  specimen  of  comparative  imperfection.  The  mate- 
rials of  which  it  is  formed  have  been  brought  from  vaiious  quarters, 
and  for  want  of  a  full  internal  assimilation  with  the  common  ground 
on  which  they  are  made  to  rest,  hang  more  or  less  loosely  together, 
and  are  in  the  same  proportion  devoid  of  spirit.  The  language  ac- 
cordingly, while  it  admits  the  finest  polish  on  the  surface,  is  artifi- 
cial and  cold.  In  broad  contrast  with  it,  the  German  stands  before 
Its  full  of  life.  It  is  the  direct  primitive  expression  of  the  living 
mind  it  has  been  made  to  embody.  From  its  ground  upAvards, 
through  all  successive  stages  of  development,  it  has  been  one  and 
the  same  organic  force,  materializing  itself  and  clothing  itself  with 
form,  with  free  spontaneous  growth.  Everj'  foreign  elemeut  has 
been  steadily  repelled.  All  is  the  result  strictly  and  exclusivel}-  of 
self-evolution.     The  whole  is  pervaded  with  the  force  of  a  single 


Chap.  XIX]  the  ger.man  language  189 

life,  e([ually  active  at  every  i)()int.  A  large  proportion  of  the 
priniar}-  words  are  clearly  onoiuatopoetic;  all  are  true  transcripts 
of  the  meaning  they  represent.  From  these  the  entire  growtli 
springs  organically,  by  necessary  and  universal  analogies  included 
in  the  general  life.  No  part  is  sei)arate  and  dead.  The  entire 
s^'stem  teems  with  vitality.  The  breathing  freshness  of  nature  is 
felt  throughout  the  whole. 

In  the  French  language,  an  unnatural  divorce  has  been  effected, 
between  the  npper  and  lower  regions  of  thought.  They  are  not 
bound  together  b}-  the  presence  of  a  common  life.  The  language 
of  literature  and  polite  society  does  not  grow  forth  from  that  which 
fills  the  mouths  of  the  common  people.  It  forms  a  caste  within 
itself.  A  multitude  of  perfectly  honest  words,  in  free  use  among 
the  people,  it  is  not  permitted  to  touch,  for  fear  of  defilement, 
simi)ly  because  the}'  are  thus  current.  In  return,  to  the  people  it 
is  alwavs  itself  more  or  less  unintelligible,  besides  being  made  to 
suffer  very  seriously  in  point  of  ease  and  freedom.  In  the  German 
no  such  separation  holds.  The  language  of  the  school  and  the 
court,  only  in  a  more  cultivated  form,  is  the  language  of  the  most 
common  walks  of  life.  No  honest  word  is  frowned  out  of  good  com- 
pany, simply  because  it  is  in  nse  among  the  rabble.  Thus  an  active 
communion  is  continually  maintained  IjctAve^n  the  literature  and 
the  general  sjiirit  of  the  nation.  The  first  proceeds  directly  from 
the  second,  and  draws  fresh  life  from  it  perpetually,  as  the  leaves 
and  blossoms  of  the  tree  from  the  limbs,  by  which  they  communi- 
cate with  the  trunk.  Hence  the  language  of  the  educated  class  is 
intelligible  to  "those  who  have  no  education.  Ea'ch  new  words,  for 
the  most  part,  present  no  difficult}'.  The  manner  of  their  formation 
reveals  their  sense. 

The  constitution  of  the  German  gives  it  unusual  depth  and  /"orrf. 
Only  where  the  language  is  the  living  product  of  life,  in  all  its 
parts,  can  it  l)e  possessed  of  these  qualities.  The  French  has  no 
depth  and  no  force.  It  plays  perpetually,  with  light  and  graceful 
movement,  on  the  surface  of  the  soul.  In  mere  mechanical  precis- 
ion, it  may  not  be  easily  excelled,  but  for  representing  the  deep 
forces  of  the  sjjirit,  it  is  to  a  great  extent  destitute  of  power.  Not 
so  the  Gerniiin.  Here  every  word  is  instinct  with  the  general  life. 
It  is  felt,  not  as  an  abstraction  or  isolated  sign,  but  as  a  living 
element  in  the  midst  of  living  relations.  The  process,  by  which 
mind  has  risen  from  lower  to  higher  forms  of  thought,  is  still  pre- 
served in  the  language  itself.  Words  represent  the  inward  consti- 
tution of  thoughts. 


190  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    lS-iO-1844  [DiV.  YlII 

How  much  is  gained  by  this  for  inwardness  and  strength  ma}- 
appear,  if  we  consider  to  what  extent  a  nervous  style  is  promoted, 
in  the  Engiisli  language,  by  the  use  of  Saxon  words  in  preference 
to  such  as  are  of  foreign  origin.  Such  words  root  themselves 
directly  in  the  general  life  of  the  language,  and  are  felt  accordinglj' 
in  their  living  force  as  commensurate  with  the  inmost  nature  of  the 
things  the^'  are  made  to  represent.  In  proportion  as  tliese  prevail 
in  tlie  style  of  a  writer,  it  will  be  pure  and  full  strong;  while  high 
sounding  periods,  made  up  of  terms  from  the  Latin,  after  the  man- 
ner of  Johnson,  will  be  found  in  comparison  watery  and  weak. 
Much  of  the  force  of  our  English  translation  of  the  Bible  lies  in  its 
l^redominant  use  of  words  of  Saxon  growth.  To  change  its  style 
in  this  respect,  would  be  to  .despoil  it  in  a  great  measure  of  its 
glory.  Of  this  any  one  can  be  satisfied,  who  will  take  the  trouble 
to  substitute  almost  any  where  terms  derived  from  the  Latin  for 
the  Saxon  forms  of  the  text.  The  Latin  may  sound  larger,  but  it 
will  mean  less,  and  can  ncA'er  have  the  same  life. 

It  is  a  great  advantage,  in  the  case  of  the  English,  as  compared 
for  instance  with  the  Italian  or  the  French,  that  it  includes  in  its 
composition  so  large  a  body  of  this  home  material.  Here  mainh' 
we  have  the  source  of  its  freshness  and  strength.  But  the  advant- 
age which  belongs  to  the  German,  in  the  same  view,  is  vastly  greater. 
Here  all  is  home  growth  and  home  manufacture.  Roots,  combina- 
tions and  derived  forms,  are  all  alike  the  product  of  the  same  soil. 
Words  are  transparent  with  the  life  they  enshrine.  Thoughts  move 
and  speak  in  the  sounds,  by  which  they  are  rendered  concrete. 
They  are  felt  from  their  innermost  ground  outwards, and  upwards. 
The  whole  language  is  a  stream  of  living  water,  perpetually  spring- 
ing, free,  vigorovis  and  fresh,  from  the  same  deep  birth-place  in  the 
bowels  of  the  earth.  No  modern  tongue  can  compare  with  it  in 
this  respect. 

As  the  German  is  deep,  so  it  is  uncommonly /Vee  and  Jiexible. 
The  French,  with  all  its  flippancy  of  movement,  can  boast  of  no 
such  freedom.  Its  liberty  at  best  is  like  the  aptness  of  a  dancing 
master,  in  making  bows  and  showing  off  postures.  In  the  A-ery 
nature  of  the  language,  it  must  alwaj^s  be  spiritually  stiff  and 
starched.  Full  evidence  of  this  is  presented  in  the  fact,  that  it  is 
acknowledged  to  be  so  difficult  to  make  translations  into  the  French 
from  other  languages.  This  is  the  true  test  of  freedom.  French 
translations  are  generally  loose  paraphrastic  versions,  in  which  the 
spirit  of  the  original  is  in  a  great  measure  sacrificed  entirely.  Vol- 
taire went  so  for  indeed  as  to  say,  that  Avhatever  could  not  be  trans- 


ClIAP.  XIX]  THE   GERMAN    LANGUAGE  191 

lated  into  French  mnst  be  pronounced  destitute  of  literary  merit — 
nudcing  his  own  hmguage  the  absolute  measure  of  good  taste  for 
the  whole  world ;  and  it  has  been  quite  fashionable  in  France,  ac- 
cordingly, to  undervalue  in  particular  the  classic  monuments  of  the 
Grecian  mind,  as  refusing  to  suit  themselves  to  the  Procrustean 
judgment  of  the  "Grand  Nation."  All  this  is  abundantly  self-com- 
placent. The  woi'ld,  however,  is  not  likely  soon  to  succumb  to  the 
maxim,  that  the  capabilities  of  the  French  tongue  form  the  ne  plus 
ultra  of  spiritual  progress  for  the  human  mind.  On  the  contrary, 
that  Homer  and  Plato  should  become  so  insipid  when  they  are  made 
to  utter  themselves  in  French,  will  be  taken  rather  as  goocl  proof 
that  the  language  itself  is  superficial  and  jejune.  Tried  by  the  same 
general  test,  the  German  will  be  found  as  free  as  its  Gallic  rival  is 
mechanical  and  stitf.  Xo  tongue  can  well  be  more  supi)le,  more 
ready  to  yield  to  the  plastic  force  of  thought,  under  whatever  form 
it  may  be  required  to  give  it  body  and  living  motion.  It  has  all 
the  si)iritu;il  llc.\il)ility  of  the  ancient  Greek.  Hence  it  admits 
translations  from  all  other  languages,  with  extraordinary  freedom. 
To  translate  French  into  German  creates  not  the  slightest  difficulty; 
but  to  translate  German  into  French  is  often  utterly  impossible; 
such  want  of  commensurability  is  there  between  the  two  tongues, 
the  one  being  so  much  more  universal  than  the  other.  The  ancient 
classics,  Latin  and  Greek,  are  made  to  speak  in  German,  as  in  no 
tongue  besides  but  their  own.  Xot  only  are  their  thoughts  trans- 
lated, but  their  form  and  coloring  are  retained  with  the  most 
graphic  fidelity.  Toss,  in  his  translations  of  Hesiod^  and  Homer 
from  the  Greek,  and  of  Horace  and  Yirgil  from  the  Latin,  carries 
this  fidelity  so  far,  as  to  give  his  originals  verse  for  verse,  with  full 
transcript  of  measure,  movement  and  complexion,  from  beginning 
to  end.  Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  wisdom  of  such  a  method, 
we  may  well  admire  the  resources  of  the  language  which  could  at 
nil  allow  its  use.  It  were  a  perfectly  wild  design,  to  attempt  a 
similar  work  in  any  other  modern  tongue.  Xo  people  have  such 
translations  as  the  Germans. 

The  flexibility  of  the  language  is  strikingly  illustrated  again,  in 
the  freedcnn  with  which  every  original  writer  causes  it  to  take  the 
particular  conformation  of  his  own  mind.  In  all  languages,  dif- 
ferent writers  make  use  to  some  extent  of  different  styles.  15ut  in 
the  German,  this  liberty  has  almost  no  limits.  Every  great  genius 
creates  it,  as  it  were,  into  a  new  world,  for  his  own  use.  Whatever 
may  be  the  form  under  which  the  spirit  of  the  nation  may  individ- 
ualize itself,  llie  language  at  once  shapes  itself  accordingly,  and 


192  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

becomes  a  commensurate  concrete  image  of  its  very  life.  The  lan- 
guage of  Goethe  is  wholly  his  own,  the  very  transcript  of  his  clear, 
transparent,  many-sided  mind.  And  what  language  iinder  heaven 
save  the  German,  we  may  ask.  could  have  allowed  free  scope  to  the 
inward  life  of  Jean  Paul^  as  it  now  sports  with  leviathan  strength, 
free  and  untrammelled,  in  its  native  element.  Such  a  spii'it  im- 
prisoned in  the  meagre  forms  of  French,  might  have  floundered  in 
vain  in  trying  to  make  itself  room,  till  it  should  have  worn  itself 
out  with  the  effort.  It  might  have  been  worthy  of  notice,  in  such 
case,  under  some  other  form,  but  it  could  not  have  been  Jean  Paul. 

We  have  been  contemplating  thus  far  simply  the  German  lan- 
guage itself,  as  it  holds  in  its  natural  constitution.  As  a  primitive 
tongue  having  its  life  wholly  within  itself,  we  have  found  it  to  be 
distinguished  for  fulness,  vitality,  depth,  inwardness,  strength  and 
freedom.  But  in  all  this,  it  is  onl}^  the  mirror  of  the  German  mind, 
with  which  we  communicate  b}'  its  means.  This  is,  too,  character- 
isticall}'  free  and  strong.  It  is  inward,  full  and  deep — the  very 
home  of  poetry  and  philosophy,  in  their  most  spiritual  form. 
Acquaintance  with  it  should  be  considered  a  privilege,  and  can 
hardly  fail  to  be  attended  with  important  benefit,  wlien  wisely-  culti- 
A'ated.  Of  all  the  different  spheres  of  thought  and  feeling  which 
make  up  the  life  of  the  modern  world,  there  is  surely  not  one  more 
worthy  of  being  penetrated  and  understood.  France,  Spain,  Italy, 
ma}^  have  brighter  and  softer  skies ;  but  the  life  of  tlie  soul  belongs 
emphaticall3^  to  Germany.  Under  no  French,  Spanish  or  Italian 
form,  is  it  exhibited  with  the  same  deep,  full  freshness  and  power. 
Independently  altogether  of  its  productions,  in  a  literary  point  of 
view,  such  a  life  may  be  expected  to  have  a  salutary  educational 
influence,  wherever  the  force  of  it  is  felt.  Communion  with  it  will 
be  awakening  and  invigorating.  But  to  commune  with  the  German 
mind,  we  must  make  ourselves  familiar  with  the  German  language. 
We  cannot  understand  it  simply  by  translation  or  report. 

I  might  go  on  to  speak  of  the  broad  fields  of  learning,  to  which 
access  is  had  b}'  a  knowledge  of  the  German  tongue.  Germany  is 
the  land  emphatically  of  books.  In  no  part  of  the  world  are  the 
sciences  cultivated  with  greater  diligence  or  success.  Nowhere  is 
literature  more  entirely  at  home.  Nowhere  are  the  depths  of  philos- 
ophy more  thoroughly  explored.  All  this  might  be  urged,  in  re- 
commendation of  the  language,  as  the  key  by  which  those  stores  of 
knowledge  are  to  be  unlocked.  But  my  limits  will  not  permit  me 
to  dwell  on  this  particularly  now.  Let  it  be  sufficient  to  sa^',  that 
a  knowledge  of  the  German,  under  the  Aiew  now  mentioned,  has 


Chap.  XIXJ  the  okk^ian  laxctaoe  193 

come  to  he  regarded,  l»otli  in  Enirland  and  in  this  country,  as  ahnost 
iiidispensahle  to  thorough  scholai-ship,  in  any  profession. 

It  is  line  indeed  that  the  literature  of  Germany  inchides  a  vast 
amount  of  impiet>'  and  nonsense.  Its  influence  in  many  respects 
is  to  he  deprecated,  as  dangerous  to  religion.  Insidious  forms  of 
error,  mysticism,  transcendentalism,  pantheism,  and  all  sorts  of 
rationalism,  are  wrought  more  or  less  into  its  very  texture,  and 
twine  themselves  around  it  in  ever}'  direction.  But  all  this  cannot 
annihilate  its  worth,  in  other  respects;  nor  is  it  a  sufficient  reason 
for  cutting  oui'selves  off  absolutely  from  the  vast  l)ody  of  vigorous 
living  thought,  Avhicli  with  all  its  errors  it  is  found  to  embrace.  It 
is  however  most  certainly  a  good  reason  for  great  caution  and 
jealousy,  in  the  case  of  all  who  feel  authorized  to  trust  themselves 
on  this  enchanted  ground.  Much  might  be  said  on  the  whole  sub- 
ject; but  it  cannot  be  prosecuted  farther,  with  propriety,  at  the 
present  time. 

The  study  of  the  German  language  may  be  recommended,  as  an 
important  help  for  acquiring  a  full  and  thorough  knowledge  of  the 
English.  The  two  languages  are  intimately  related,  both  in  form 
and  spirit.  Both  spring  from  the  same  Teutonic  source — since  it 
is  to  Saxon  properly  the  English  owes  its  constitution  and  life. 
The  English,  indeed,  is  not  so  entirely  primitive  as  the  German  in 
its  structure.  It  has  appropriated  no  small  amount  of  material  of 
foreign  growth.  But  still  it  is  no  such  jumble  of  heterogeneous 
elements  as  the  Italian  or  the  French.  It  bears  a  much  closer  re- 
semblance, in  its  constitution,  to  the  German.  The  original  Saxon 
life  still  pervades  all  its  i)arts.  It  exhil)its  a  Saxon  body  and  a 
Saxon  soul.  Hence  innumerable  aflinities  hold  between  it  and  the 
German.  The  study  of  the  one  language  sheds  light  ])erpetually 
on  the  other.  In  this  view,  the  German  has  far  greater  claims  u[)on 
our  regard  than  the  French,  Spanish  or  Italian.  It  carries  us 
directly  back  to  the  fountains  of  our  own  life,  as  involved  in  the 
general  life  with  which  we  are  surrounded.  It  tends  to  give  us  a 
better  knowledge  and  a  more  full  possession  of  our  [)roper  spiritual 
being.  We  cannot  make  ourselves  at  home  in  it,  without  being 
better  prepared  so  far  to  understand  the  true  spirit  of  the  English. 
To  stud}-  the  German  is  in  our  case  to  study  the  English  at  the 
same  time. 

Such  in  a  general  way  are  tlu'  grounds  on  which  the  language 
of  Germany  may  be  recommended  to  our  attention  and  respect.  It 
is  a  strange  illustration  of  the  blindness  of  fashion,  in  the  case  of 
the  most  important  interests,  that   liotii   in    England  an<l   in   this 


194  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1S40-18U  [DlY.  YIII 

country,  the  French  should  so  generally  form  an  object  of  promi- 
nent concern  in  what  is  called  a  polite  education,  while  the  German 
is  not  only  overlooked  but  treated  it  may  be  with  absolute  scorn. 
Fashionable  families  are  willing  to  pay  handsomely  to  have  their 
children  taught  to  smatter  phrases  in  the  first,  but  would  scarce  con- 
sider it  an  accomplishment  at  all  to  have  them  thoroughly  at  home 
in  the  second.  And  yet,  for  all  educational  ends,  the  German  is 
vastly  to  be  preferred  to  the  French.  In  its  very  constitution  and 
structure,  it  is  fitted  to  unfold  the  powers  of  the  youthful  spirit,  to 
widen  the  sphere  of  its  life,  to  invigorate  its  perceptions,  to  spirit- 
ualize its  feelings,  and  to  fill  it  with  the  rich  deep  poetry-  of  nature. 
The  French,  on  the  contrary,  is  constitutionally  poor,  and  dry,  and 
lean.  Its  structure  is  mechanical.  No  fresh  vigorous  life  breathes 
through  its  artificial  forms.  To  commune  with  it,  is  to  turn  the 
back  on  the  world  of  poetry  and  song.  Its  poetry  has  been  not 
unaptly  denominated  "  circumcised  prose."  The  spirit  of  the  lan- 
guage is  cold  and  barren.  It  has  no  soul,  no  Gemueth,  as  it  is 
stjded  among  the  Germans.  So  entirely  is  this  wanting,  that  no 
French  word  can  be  found  to  express  the  idea.  And  this  is  the 
language,  which,  above  all  others,  English  taste  Las  selected  to  be 
the  instrument  of  cultivation  for  the  youthful  heart!  For  my  own 
part,  I  consider  the  time  bestowed  upon  French  in  this  country  as 
almost  entirely  thrown  away — about  as  much  so  as  if  it  were 
expended  in  the  study  of  the  Cherokee.  As  a  passport  to  French 
learning,  in  the  case  of  literary  men,  it  is  all  well  enough.  But  as 
an  educational  discipline,  or  a  polite  accomplishment,  it  is  worth 
almost  nothing;  and  to  make  the  matter  still  worse,  it  is  the  name 
onl}'  for  the  most  part — the  mere  shadow  of  a  shade — that  is  made 
to  stand  in  our  boarding  schools  and  fashionable  circles  for  the 
thing. 

The  German  is  generally  counted  a  more  rude  language  than  the 
French.  Its  movements  seem  to  be  awkward  and  unwieldly.  It  is 
considered  deficient  in  sound,  rough  and  unmusical  rather  than 
l)olite.  We  may  say,  however,  that  the  smoothness  and  lightness 
of  the  French  and  Italian  are  the  result  of  a  one-sided  development 
of  life  in  their  case.  A  full  free  life  can  be  brought  out  only  by  a 
full  free  use  of  the  voice,  on  all  sides  and  at  all  points.  The  German 
has  its  grace  and  harmou}'  too,  only  there  must  be  depth  and  earn- 
estness in  the  soul  in  order  that  they  may  be  felt.  Nature  often 
seems  rude  and  awkward  in  comparison  with  art.  But  let  the 
observation  become  sufficiently  deep,  and  how  triumphantly-  is  the 
comparison  reversed.     There  is  more  harmou}-  in  the  mountains, 


ClIAP.  XIX J  THE   GERMAN    LANGUAGE  11)5 

valleys  and  resplendent  rivers,  than  there  is  in  the  measured  walks 
and  piles  of  architecture,  that  make  up  the  idea  of  a  city.  TIk' 
storm  itself  is  full  of  a  deep  living  music,  which  the  smooth 
l)aueantry  of  courts  can  never  reach. 

It  has  been  no  uncommon  thing,  however,  for  Germans  to  be 
ashamed  of  their  own  language,  as  contrasting  awkwardlj'  to  their 
feelings  with  the  more  mercurial  spirit  of  other  tongues.  Thus  at 
one  time  it  seemed  in  danger,  even  in  Germany  itself,  of  succumb- 
ing completely  to  the  arrogant  pretensions  of  the  French;  such  was 
the  rage  that  prevailed  for  writing,  talking  and  i)laying  the  fool,  in 
this  gay  language.  So  it  is  quite  common  for  the  descendants  of 
Germans  in  this  country,  in  the  midst  of  English  manners  and  feel- 
ings, to  have  a  low  esteem  for  the  language  of  their  fathers.  Some 
such  seem  to  make  a  merit  of  having  as  little  to  do  with  it  as  pos- 
sible. It  puts  them  out  of  countenance,  to  have  it  supposed  that 
they  can  speak  or  understand  a  word  of  German.  Such  persons 
are  to  be  pitied  for  their  narrow  order  of  thinking.  The  German 
is  not  a  language  of  which  any  one  need  be  ashamed.  True,  it  does 
not  generalh'  appear  in  its  holiday  dress  in  this  country.  It  is  for 
the  most  part  barbarously  spoken.  But  there  is  no  good  reason 
Avhy  it  should  be  undervalued  or  slighted  on  this  account.  It  is 
barbarously  spoken  in  some  sections  of  German}-  too.  Provincial 
distortions,  however,  do  not  overthrow  the  language  itself,  nor 
destroy  its  title  to  respect.  Let  it  be  honored  for  w^hat  it  is  in  its 
true  form,  and  studied  accordingly.  Those  especially,  who  have 
Gciinan  blood  in  their  veins,  should  consider  it  an  accom[)lishment 
undci-  any  circumstances,  to  be  able  to  read  and  speak  the  German 
tongue.  In  such  a  college  as  ours,  it  should  be  an  object  of  general 
regard  and  general  study. 

But  if  the  language  be  worthy-  of  this  general  attention  in  the 
case  of  our  students,  it  must  be  acknowledged  to  have  special  claims 
on  those  who  are  here  as  candidates  for  the  sacred  ministr}-,  in  the 
l)osom  of  the  German  Churches.  The  time  will  come,  no  doubt, 
when  the  German  will  not  be  needed  at  all  for  pastoral  purposes, 
in  our  pulpits  or  out  of  them.  But  that  time  most  clearly  has  not 
couu'  yr/.  For  many  years  the  German  will  be  extensively  required. 
What  the  Church  needs  mainly,  at  this  moment,  is  men  qualified  to 
l>reach  in  the  German  language.  Even  where  the  English  has  come 
to  be  generall}-  used,  there  is  still  room,  to  say  no  more,  at  most 
points,  for  doing  good  also  by  means  of  the  German,  if  not  in  the 
pulpit,  at  least  out  of  it  in  the  work  of  pastoral  visitation:  while 
oviT  a  wide  territory,  full  of  promise  for  the  Church,  the  minister 


19G  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    lSlO-1844  [DiV.  Till 

without  it  can  liave  no  free  access  at  all  publicly  or  privately  to 
the  body  of  the  people.  In  these  circumstances,  it  might  seem  to 
be  a  plain  case  that  candidates  for  the  ministry,  as  a  general  thing, 
in  the  German  Reformed  Church,  should,  with  their  other  prepara- 
tion, take  pains  to  make  themselves  in  some  degree  ftimiliar  with 
the  German  language.  There  are  points  where  it  is  not  absolutely 
needed.  A  man  may  be  useful  in  the  Church  without  it.  But  still 
it  may  be  said  to  enter  into  the  general  idea  of  a  preparation  for 
this  field.  Other  things  being  equal,  the  candidate  who  has  a 
knowledge  of  the  German  is  more  fully  fitted  for  service  in  the 
ministry  of  the  Reformed  Church,  and  has  a  better  prospect  of  use- 
fulness than  one  who  is  destitude  of  this  advantage.  Now  this 
should  of  itself  in  a  general  view  bind  our  candidates  for  the  min- 
istry to  cultivate  an  acquaintance  with  the  language.  Such  are  to 
be  ambitious  of  being  as  fully  fitted  as  possible  for  usefulness. 
Were  they  called  to  some  foreign  field,  the}'  would  calculate,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  on  mastering  a  new  language,  or  perhaps  two  or 
three  of  them,  as  necessary  to  success  in  their  mission.  And  if  a 
knowledge  of  the  German  be  in  itself  an  enlargement  of  a  man's 
qualifications  for  usefulness  in  the  ministry,  wh}', should  they  not 
be  stimulated  in  like  manner,  under  the  prospect  of  entering  this 
field,  to  make  the  accomplishment  their  own.  The  duty  of  every 
candidate  for  the  sacred  office  is  to  covet  earnestl}-  all  gifts,  within 
his  reach,  that  may  be  made  available  for  the  success  of  his  minis- 
try; to  "seek  that  he  may  excel,  to  the  edifying  of  the  Church." 
On  this  principle,  in  the  case  before  us,  students  who  have  it  in 
view  to  enter  the  ministry  of  a  German  Church  should  be  ex- 
horted to  cultivate  the  gift  of  speaking  German.  Those  who  have 
had  any  knowledge  of  it  previously,  however  small,  should  feel 
specially  bound  to  improve  the  advantage,  b^-  making  it  the  ground 
of  a  knowledge  that  may  be  more  full  and  accurate.  They  should 
stir  up  the  gift  that  is  in  them,  and  not  allow  it  to  perish  for  want 
of  cultivation.  And  those  who  have  no  such  previous  advantage 
at  all,  should  not  look  on  it  as  a  very  formidable  undertaking  to 
learn  the  language,  out  and  out,  in  the  course  of  their  other  prep- 
aration for  the  otfice  they  are  seeking.  An^^  student  of  tolerable 
capacity,  penetrated  with  a  sense  of  the  importance  of  the  German, 
and  seriousl}'-  bent  on  making  himself  as  fulh'  as  possible  "  meet  for 
the  Master's  use,"  in  the  seven  or  eight  years  which  he  ought  to 
spend  in  preparing  himself  to  be  a  preacher,  might  easily  add  this 
to.  his  other  accomplishments.  And  why  should  it  not  be  expected 
at  his  hands.     Even  if  the  language  has  no  other  value  whatever. 


Chap.  XIX]  the  geuman  language  197 

it  would  be  reason  enough  lor  hiui  to  study  it,  tliat  it  was  called 
for,  as  a  help  to  his  usefulness,  on  his  contemplated  field  of  service 
in  the  Church.  ITe  might  cheerfully  address  himself,  under  the  in- 
fiuence  of  this  consideration,  to  the  study  of  the  purest  language 
that  is  spoken.  With  how  much  greater  alacrity  then  should  he 
res[)ond  to  the  challenge,  when  it  calls  him  to  study  the  Get-man — 
one  of  the  richest  languages  in  the  world,  which  he  might  well 
count  it  a  privilege  to  make  his  own,  apart  from  the  particular  con- 
sideration now  in  view  altoaether. 


CHAPTER  XX 

AFTER  the  death  of  Dr.  Ranch,  Dr.  NeA'in,  b}'  general  reqnest, 
-  became  President  of  the  College  pro  tempore,  which,  con- 
trary to  the  fears  of  its  friends,  continned  to  grow  and  prosper;  in 
fact,  it  entered  upon  a  new  career  of  prosperity.  The  contribu- 
tions for  its  relief  during  the  Centennial  year  removed  it  above 
pressing  financial  difficulties  ;  the  faculty  was  sufficiently  full,  in- 
cluding four  professors,  complemented  always  by  two  or  three  ad- 
junct-professors or  tutors.  Dr.  Nevin  took  charge  of  the  classes 
at  the  chapter  or  place  in  the  book  where  Dr.  Rauch  had  left 
off  teaching,  and  showed  that  he  had  the  ability  to  lead  the  stu- 
dents over  the  philosophic  field,  in  the  spirit  of  their  reA^ered  in- 
structor who  had  fallen  asleep,  to  study  the  phenomena  of  the 
spirit  in  a  higher  realm.  In  the  Seminary  all  the  branches  of  a 
theological  course  were  taught  ably  and  thoroughh^,  but  this  in- 
volved many  and  onerous  duties  for  one  professor,  single-handed 
and  alone,  to  discharge.  They  were  performed  noiselessl}-  and 
without  complaint,  although  largelj^  increased  by  frequent  contri- 
butions to  the  public  press,  which  the  circumstances  and  environ- 
ments of  the  professor  at  the  time  seemed  to  require  from  his  pen. 
But  it  was  not  very  long  before  it  began  to  be  felt  that  he  needed 
assistance  in  his  work.  On  one  occasion,  after  a  day  of  fasting, 
he  felt  back  unconscious  from  his  seat  at  the  table  in  a  sj^ncope  of 
the  heart,  and  it  was  some  time  before  he  rallied  and  regained  his 
usual  strength.  It  was  a  mere  incident  at  the  time,  yet  it  hastened 
thought  and  reflection  on  the  part  of  the  friends  of  the  institutions. 
Had  Dr.  Nevin,  upon  whom  so  much  rested,  been  removed  by 
death  at  that  time,  it  would  have  been  a  greater  loss  to  all  the  in- 
terests concerned  than  was  the  death  of  Dr.  Rauch  sometime  be- 
fore. But  Avhere  was  the  man  to  be  found  who  was  to  stand  bj'  his 
side  in  the  Seminary?  It  was  difficult  to  say.  It  must  be  one  who 
possessed  gifts,  and  qualifications  of  a  special  kind.  Such  ques- 
tions are  sometimes  answered  by  an  inspiration  that  does  not  seem 
to  be  based  on  any  large  amount  of  cool  reflection.  And  so  it 
turned  out  in  this  instance.  A  voice  came  from  the  English  por- 
tion of  the  Church — again  from  the  Classis  of  Maryland — that  the 
man  for  the  place  should  be  Dr.  Krummacher,  the  great  pulpit  ora- 
tor of  Germany,  ftworably  known  in  this  country  as  the  author  of 

(198) 


Chap.  XX]  du.  kkummaciiek  called  199 

Elijiili  the  Tisli1)ite,and  evervwliere  highly  respected  for  his  learning 
and  evangelical  faith.  The  choice  was  generall}^  commended,  and 
the  name  itself  helped  to  add  enthusiasm  to  the  movement.  The 
more  considerate  ones  doubted  whether  the  distinguished  preacher 
could  be  induced  to  leave  his  field  of  usefulness  at  home,  or  whether, 
even  if  he  should  decide  to  cross  the  ocean,  it  would  be  wise  for 
him  at  his  advanced  age  to  do  so.  Dr.  Xevin  was  one  who  thought 
in  this  way,  l)ut  he  encouraged  the  movement  with  his  pen.  It 
looked  as  if  Providence  was  in  it;  and  it  was  clear  that,  if  Dr. 
Krummacher  could  not  be  secured,  there  were  other  or  vounger 
theologians  in  German}'  from  whom  a  choice  could  be  made.  A 
special  meeting  of  the  Synod,  therefore,  was  held  to  act  on  the  Ger- 
man professorship  at  Lebanon,  Pa.,  in  January-,  1843,  in  the  same 
month  and  during  the  same  week  in  which  the  English  professor 
in  the  Seminary  had  been  elected  three  years  before.  A  letter  from 
Dr.  Xevin  addressed  to  the  SA-nod  was  read  at  this  meeting,  in 
which  the  gravity  of  the  situation  and  the  importance  of  the  step 
about  to  be  taken  were  fully  discussed,  and  the  election  of  Dr. 
Krummacher  urged  as  a  necessity  in  the  circumstances. 

During  the  second  da}^  of  the  session,  the  engrossing  subject 
which  had  called  the  S^'nod  together  in  mid-winter  was  earnestly 
considered  in  connection  with  Dr.  Xevin's  letter,  which  had  made 
a  deep  impression  and  was  listened  to  with  solemn  interest.  At 
the  opening  of  the  afternoon  session  the  Synod  was  led  in  pra^-er 
in  the  Gei'man  language  by  the  Rev.  Henry  Bibighouse  and  in  the 
English  by  Dr.  Bernard  C.  Wolff.  At  the  time  appointed  for  filling 
the  vacant  professorship,  the  Synod  was  again  led  in  prayer  by  the 
President,  and  the  election  resulted  in  the  unanimous  choice  of  the 
Rev.  Frederick  William  Krummacher.  D.D.,  of  Elberfeld,  Germany. 
The  call  to  the  Professor-elect  was  immediately  prepared,  his  salary 
fixed,  and  commissioners  consisting  of  Rev.  Theodore  L.  Hoffeditz, 
D.D.,  and  Rev.  Benjamin  S.  Schneck  were  appointed  to  proceed  to 
German}'  to  convey  the  call  in  person  to  Dr.  Krummacher.  All 
this  was  done  in  the  fear  of  God  and  in  the  exercise  of  faith,  with- 
out any  special  reference  to  the  treasury  of  the  Seminary,  which  at 
this  time  was  scarcel}'  able  to  meet  its  current  expenses. 

But  after  the  act  was  consummated,  some  of  the  business  men 
present,  elders,  began  to  inquire  how  the  increased  expenditure  in 
the  Seminar}'  was  to  be  met,  and  learning  the  situation  of  affairs, 
they  commenced  to  make  their  contril)utions  for  the  endowment  of 
the  new  professorship.  In  those  days,  however,  an  effort  of  that 
kind  required  time  and  progressed  slowly.     The  Commissioners, 


200  AT    MEKCERSBURG   FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

after  securing  their  credentials  and  making  preparations  for  tlieir 
vo^-age  to  Europe  in  tlie  spring,  found  themselves  embarrassed  by 
an  empty  treasury,  and  began  to  think  that  for  appearance's  sake, 
at  least,  they  had  better  remain  at  home.  But  the  dilemma  was 
explained  to  a  plain  wealthy  German  farmer  living  in  Ole^'  town- 
ship, Berks  Co.,  Pa,,  Elder  Daniel  Kieffer,  who  urged  the  brethren 
to  prosecute  the  object  of  their  appointment,  and  promised  to  leave 
$10,000  for  the  support  of  the  German  professor  (which  he  after- 
wards increased  to  $15,000)  in  his  will.  He  was  advanced  in  years, 
and  armed  with  such  a  promise  the  commissioners  embarked  for 
Europe  in  the  month  of  Ma}'.  It  was  now  more  evident  than  ever 
before  that  the  hand  of  Providence  was  in  this  movement,  as  sub- 
sequent events  demonstrated  still  more  fulh'. 

Dr.  Krummacher  was  much  exercised  by  this  unexpected  call  to 
labor  in  America,  and  as  there  seemed  to  be  something  remarkable 
about  it,  he  gave  it  a  careful  and  prolonged  consideration.  The 
conclusion  arrived  at  was  that  he  ought  to  continue  his  ministry 
in  Germany,  in  which  his  friends  at  home  and  in  this  country  coin- 
cided. As  an  evangelical  preacher,  as  a  great  pulpit  orator,  he  was 
needed  where  he  was  in  upholding  the  faith  of  the  Gospel  against 
the  subtle  attacks  of  neology  and  wide  spread  unbelief.  In  this 
country  his  influence  would  have  no  doubt  been  salutary,  but  his 
field  would  have  been  much  more  limited  and  his  scholastic  work 
probably  somewhat  oppressive  to  him.  His  proper  sphere  was  the 
pulpit,  not  the  professorial  chair.  His  call  to  this  country,  singu- 
larly void  of  calculation  from  the  time  it  was  proposed,  was,  ho^''- 
ever,  an  interesting  episode  in  his  life.  By  his  books  and  his  high 
reputation,  he  was  to  some  extent  unconsciously  the  means  of  ini- 
tiating a  movement  b}-  which  a  German  professor  was  transplanted 
to  this  country,  through  whom  an  impulse  was  imparted  to  theolog- 
ical science  which  is  felt  to  the  present  da^-,  not  only  in  his  own  de- 
nomination but  in  others  as  well. 

By  the  recommendations  of  such  theologians  as  Neander,  Tho- 
luck,  Hengstenberg,  and  Julius  Mueller,  Dr.  Philip  Schaff  was  se- 
lected to  take  the  position  offered  to  Dr.  Krummacher.  He  was 
just  beginning  his  career  as  a  theological  lecturer  in  the  University 
of  Berlin,  had  already  distinguished  himself  by  the  publication  of 
several  learned  brochures,  was  still  young,  a  Swiss  and  a  repub- 
lican by  birth,  an  orthodox  Calvinist  in  his  faith,  and  an  interesting 
pulpit  orator.  A  better  or  more  suitable  selection  for  the  position 
at  Mereersburg  perhaps  could  not  have  been  made.  He  was  a  gift 
from  the  fatherland  to  the  dau2fhter  Church  on  this   side  of  the 


Chap.  XX]  dr.  sciiaff's  reception  201 

ocean,  and  Ave  may  add,  to  the  countiy  at  large,  destined  to  serve 
as  an  important  link  connecting  the  theological  science  of  this  coun- 
try' with  that  of  Germany. 

Dr.  Schatf,  supplied  with  the  testimonials  of  the  German  theolo- 
gians already  mentioned,  was  formally  elected  by  the  S3'nod  in  the 
fall  of  184.-}  to  fill  the  chair  of  Church  History  and  Biblical  Litera- 
ture in  the  Seminary,  and  he  arrived  in  this  country  in  the  summer 
of  1844.  His  reception  on  his  arrival  at  Mercersburg  was  of  a 
highly  flattering  character,  and  must  have  taken  him  by  surprise. 
In  the  evening  the  students  and  citizens,  with  a  band  of  music, 
met  him  in  the  suburbs  of  the  town,  and  conducted  him  in  a  torch- 
light procession  to  the  Seminary  building,  where  he  was  welcomed 
to  his  new  sphere  of  labor  in  English  and  German  addresses,  b^- 
representatives  from  the  College  and  the  Seminar}-.  With  the 
music  of  the  band,  the  illuminations  of  the  Seminary  and  many 
other  Ituildings  in  the  town,  festoons  and  triumphal  arches,  the 
scene  was  highl}-  imposing.  The  object  of  such  a  reception  was  to 
make  it  conform  as  far  as  possible  to  similar  demonstrations  made 
1)3'  the  students  in  Germany — a  genuine  Fackelzug — on  occasions 
when  distinguished  scholars  were  called  to  enter  upon  their  duties 
in  the  Universities  as  professors.  The  American  students  therefore 
entered  into  it  with  much  vim.  Under  this  view  it  was  successful, 
honorable  to  all  concerned,  and  altogether  in  keeping  with  the 
Anglo-German  character  of  the  institution.  Dr.  Schatf  said  that 
for  the  moment  he  felt  as  if  he  were  still  in  Germany.  He  soon 
found  himself  at  home  among  warm  friends  in  a  land  of  strangers. 
What  was  especially  gratifying  to  him  and  very  bracing  to  his 
nerves,  no  doubt,  was  the  fact  that  he  at  once  found  that  Dr.  Nevin. 
was  in  intelligent  sympatic  with  German  theolog}'.  Thus  he  found 
a  colleague  and  friend  upon  whom,  as  Dr.  Ranch  had  done  before, 
he  could  rely  for  comfort  and  support.  He  accordingly-  entered 
upon  his  duties  in  the  Seminary  without  delay,  and  set  himself  to 
work  to  prepare  his  famous  Inaugural  Address. 

At  first  he  was  at  a  loss  to  find  out  what  its  particular  character 
ought  to  be.  He  might  have  prepared  an  introductory  address, 
such  as  in  ordinar}-  circumstances  would  have  been  regarded  as 
appropriate  and  sufficient  for  the  occasion.  IJut  as  he  had  come 
to  this  c()untr>-  from  the  famous  centre  of  theological  learning  at 
Berlin,  :ind  would  naturally  be  I'egarded  as  in  some  sense  a  repre- 
sentative and  exponent  of  German  theology  in  America,  he  felt 
that  he  ought  to  define  his  position  more  or  less  fulh'  as  a  German 
divine.  This  much  might  be  reasonably  expected  of  him,  ami  cs- 
13 


202  AT    MERCERSBURO    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

pecially  so,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  German  theology  at  that  time 
was  not  eveiywhere  in  this  country  in  ver}^  high  repute.  For  the 
most  part  it  was  regarded  with  grave  suspicion  in  our  highest  seats 
of  learning  as  well  as  by  the  religious  press  generally.  It  was 
therefore  thought  best  that  he  should  be  allowed  full  freedom  to 
give  expression  to  his  theological  views  on  some  one  of  the  great 
questions  of  the  day,  from  his  own  evangelical  Gei'man  stand-point; 
and  in  this  he  was  encouraged,  and  no  doubt  abundantly  stimulated 
by  his  new  friend.  Dr.  Nevin.  The  result  was  a  theological  treatise 
of  considerable  length  on  "  The  Principle  of  Protestantism  as 
related  to  the  Present  State  of  the  Church,"  or  in  other  words, 
a  contribution  to  the  solution  of  the  Church  Question,  which  was 
then  looming  up  as  the  great  problem  of  the  age. 

At  his  installation  into  office  at  Reading,  Pa.,  in  Oetolier,  1844, 
Dr.  Schaff  could  read  only  portions  of  the  address,  little  more  than 
its  introduction,  or  a  general  synopsis  of  its  contents.  It  was,  how- 
ever, in  due  season,  translated  into  the  English  language,  and  in- 
troduced to  the  American  public  during  the  spring  of  1845,  with  an 
admirable  introduction  by  his  colleague.  As  Dr.  Schaff  had  quoted 
largely  in  the  body  of  his  work  from  Dr.  Nevin's  Sermon  on  Catho- 
lic Unity,  delivered  at  the  Triennial  Convention  of  the  Dutch  and 
German  Reformed  Churches  at  Harrisburg  on  the  8th  of  August, 
1844,  at  his  request  the  sermon  was  published  as  an  Appendix  to 
the  so-called  Inaugural  Address.  The  original  work,  as  thus  en- 
larged, formed  a  volume  of  215  pages. 

A  production  of  this  nature  launched  upon  the  theological  pub- 
lic, at  that  particular  time,  was  somewhat  meteoric,  and  needed 
just  such  an  explanation  as  Dr.  Nevin  gave  it  in  his  Introduction. 
The  translation  was  admirable,  in  as  smooth  and  pure  English  as 
could  be  desired;  but  the  method,  the  character  of  its  arguments, 
its  thoughts  and  its  inbreathing  spirit  remained  nevertheless  invin- 
cibly German;  and  yet,  notwithstanding  the  honesty  beaming  in 
its  face,  its  natural  character  was  just  the  feature  wdiich  was  calcu- 
lated to  excite  doubt  and  suspicion  in  the  minds  of  man3\  As 
already  said,  there  was  at  the  time  considerable  zeal  arrayed  against 
German  thinking  as  characteristically  bad,  both  philosophically  and 
theologically,  and  there  were  some  verj-  excellent  men,  in  their  waj-, 
who,  perhaps,  would  have  kept  it  from  crossing  the  ocean  alto- 
gether, if  it  had  been  in  their  power.  Dr.  Nevin,  himself,  had  once 
been  of  this  way  of  thinking,  but  he  had  advanced  somewhat  in 
knowledge,  and  was  now  of  a  different  mind.  He  had  arrived  at 
the  conclusion  that  it  was  an  immense  mistake  to  assume  that  the 


Chap.  XX]  the  principle  ov  protestantism  203 

Anglo-American  order  of  religious  life  was  all  right  and  com})lete 
in  itself,  whilst  the  German  life  under  the  same  aspect  was  all 
wrong.  It  might  be  supposed  that  both  include  distinctive  quali- 
ties of  the  highest  order,  and  that  standing  by  themselves  the^' 
were,  more  or  less,  one-sided,  involving  corresponding  defects  and 
false  tendencies.  Sound  reason  and  ordinary  common  sense,  there- 
fore, would  say  that  there  should  be  a  judicious  union  of  both,  in 
which  what  is  truly  good  in  each  should  find  its  proper  supple- 
ment in  what  is  true  and  good  in  the  other,  and  that  in  this  way 
both  extremes  should  be  mutuall}^  corrected  and  reciprocally  re- 
strained. In  all  such  cases  the  truth  can  be  held  onl}'  in  their 
union.  So  much  at  least  had  to  be  said  in  the  way  of  an  apology 
for  the  introduction  of  German  theology  into  this  countiy  forty  or 
fifty  years  ago ;  but  there  surel}'  ought  not  to  have  been  anything 
of  the  kind  necessary  in  the  case  of  Professor  Schaff.  He  cer- 
tainly needed  no  apology  for  appearing  before  the  American  public. 
He  came  to  this  country  not  in  a.ny  wa}'  to  interfere  with  the  order 
of  life  already  established,  but  in  obedience  to  a  call  of  Providence 
to  labor  for  a  German  people  and  a  German  Church,  which  needed 
his  services  ;  and  if  his  Christian  activity',  outside  of  his  own  more 
immediate  circle  of  German  people,  should  prove  to  be  useful  it 
would  only  be  so  much  the  better. 

But  the  Inaugural,  quite  naturally,  served  to  awaken  distrust  and 
suspicion,  not  so  much  by  its  German  source  and  costume,  as  by 
its  thoughts  or  contents.  In  German}'  these  would  have  met  with 
favor  by  orthodox  theologians  generallj',  and  scarcely  been  regarded 
in  an}-  way  as  forming  a  new  departure.  They  proceeded  from  the 
school  of  Neander,  with  indications  here  and  there  of  a  higher  tone 
of  orthodoxy.  In  this  country,  however,  they  were  comparatively 
new,  and  running  counter  to  popular  A'iews  of  the  Church  and  his- 
tory in  general,  they  were  of  such  a  character  as  to  arouse  opposi- 
tion, and  were  liable  to  be  misunderstood  or  misrepresented.  Dr. 
Xevin  in  his  gentle,  apologetic  Introduction,  therefore,  endeavored 
to  disarm  prejudice  and  to  prepare  the  reader  for  a  candid  and  lil)- 
eral  perusal  of  the  Inaugural,  in  which,  however,  he  only  partially 
succeeded.  As  the  Address  was  the  starting  point  of  the  contro- 
versies in  which  he  took  such  a  prominent  part,  and  was,  in  fact,  a 
magna  pars,  it  seems  proper  that  we  should  furnish  the  readers  with 
some  intelligil>le  account  of  the  drift  and  animus  of  the  book. 

Its  title  was  the  Principle  of  Protestanism,  which  the  author 
found  in  the  doctrine  of  ju'stHication  by  faith  on  the  one  hand  and 
in  the  supreme  authority  of  the  Scriptures  as  the  rule  of  faith  on 


204  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DlY.  VIII 

the  other.  These  two,  the  former  represented  more  prominentl}' 
by  the  Liitlieran  and  the  latter  by  the  Reformed  Church,  are  in- 
separable and  constitute  together  only  one  fons  et  origo^  only  dif- 
ferent aspects  of  one  and  the  same  principle.  But  the  book  covers 
a  much  wider  ground  than  its  title  at  first  view  would  suggest.  It 
is  in  fact  a  vindication  of  the  Protestant  movement  as  a  whole,  ad- 
mits its  defects  and  weakness,  and  seeks  to  point  out  the  course  it 
should  pursue  in  order  to  outgrow  its  present  limitations  and  pass 
over  into  something  higher  and  better,  carrying  with  it,  into  a  new 
order  of  things  in  the  future,  all  that  is  valuable  and  true  in  it  now. 
It  was  not  a  religious  Revolution  in  the  sixteenth  century  as  some 
would  have  it,  nor  a  mere  Restoration  of  ancient  Christianitv  as 
other  friends  would  like  to  regard  it.  It  was,  as  the  name  applied 
to  it  expresses,  a  Reformation ;  not  such  a  violent  break  with  the 
history  that  went  before  as  some  imagine,  but  the  ripe  fruit  of  ages, 
the  living  result  of  their  struggles  and  conflicts  brought  about  by 
a  A-alid  historical  development,  in  which  the  human  and  divine  fac- 
tors of  history  were  equally  active.  The  preparation  for  this  great 
outcome  of  humanit}'  in  its  upward  struggle  was  slowly  made  from 
century  to  century  in  the  several  departments  of  politics,  science, 
and  polite  literature^  but'  more  especiallj'  in  Theology,  in  the 
Church  and  in  the  religious  life  of  the  people.  The  Reformation 
abolished  as  far  as  it  knew  how  the  errors,  the  abuses,  the  super- 
stitions and  the  corruptions  that  had  l)een  the  accumulations  of 
ages,  and  held  fast  to  the  truths  that  had  come  down  from  the  early 
and  primitive  Church  as  its  own  rightful  inheritance.  But,  as  al- 
ready said,  it  was  an  ach'ance  in  the  history  of  the  Church.  It 
brought  out  more  cleai'l}^  than  ever  before  the  doctrine  of  salvation 
by  grace,  and  of  free  access  to  the  throne  of  the  Father  in  heaven 
through  His  only  begotten  Son.  The  Church  of  the  Middle  Ages 
was  the  Church  of  the  Latin,  race,  and  carried  in  it  an  element  of 
legalism  always  characteristic  of  that  race,  which  stood  in  the  way 
of  the  liberty'  of  the  individual  and  debarred  him  from  the  full  en- 
joyment of  the  blessings  of  salvation  in  Christ.  The  Gospel  in- 
volved in  it  freedom  in  the  true  sense  of  the  term,  and  it  became 
necessary  that  the  Germanic  people  should  be  called  on  to  embody 
it  in  the  onward  march  of  history-.  Protestantism  or  the  Evangel- 
ical Church  is  the  Christianity  of  the  Germanic  race.  The  latter 
is  not  a  reconstruction  of  the  Christian  faith  de  novo,  as  is  some- 
times affirmed,  l)ut  the  result  of  an  historical  process  or  develop- 
ment, always  existing  in  the  Gospel  and  in  the  deeper  life  of  the 
Church,  but  now  lirought  out  in  the  fullness  of  time  as  the  flower  and 


("llAl'.   XX]  TIIK    I'KINCIPLE    OF    PROTESTANTISM  205 

the  fruit  of  a  long  process  of  growth.  Such  in  brief  was  Dr.  Schaff 's 
view  of  riiurch  IlistorN'  and  of  the  genesis  of  the  Reformation. 

l)iit  wluMi  this  is  admitted  it  follows  that  Protestantism  itself 
ought  not  to  be  regarded  as  the  final  and  only. perfect  form  of  the 
Christian  faith.  It  too  must  pass  through  a  course  of  development 
until  it  reaches  something  higher  and  better.  As  it  begini  to  un- 
fold itself  in  the  Christian  life  of  Euroi>e,  it  soon  brouglit  along 
with  it  diseases,  tendencies  destructive  to  its  inner  life  in  Rational- 
ism and  Sectism  which  are  the  licentious  abuses  of  Evangelical 
freedom.  Puseyism,  an  important  movement  in  its  day,  Avas  a 
well-meant  attemi)t  to  save  Protestantism  from  the  dissolution  that 
threatened  it  in  the  disintegrating  tendencies  at  w^ork  within  its 
pale,  but  insufficient  to  work  a  lasting  cure  for  these  diseases.  It 
looked  backwards  not  forwards.  It  w\as  restoration,  repristination, 
not  reformation.  The  only  true  stand-point,  therefore,  according 
to  Dr.  Schaff,  for  the  farther  progress  of  Protestantism  and  of 
Christianity  in  general,  is  to  be  found  in  the  principle  of  historical 
development,  understood  in  a  scriptural  or  evangelical  sense.  Un- 
der the  Providence  of  God,  it  must  be  our  guide  out  of  the  evils  and 
difficulties  of  the  present,  and  the  door  for  such  enlargement  of 
Christian  freedom  as  will  lead  finally  to  the  union  of  all  branches 
of  the  Christian  Church,  in  one  body,  the  prayer  not  only  of  such 
men  as  Moehler  in  the  Catholic  Church,  but  of  all  true  Chi'istians. 

The  Inaugural  does  not  pretend  to  say  what  particular  form  the 
Christianity  of  the  future  is  to  be,  or  how  it  is  to  be  distinguished, 
except  that  it  will  manifest  a  higher  degree  of  unit}'  than  it  tloes  in 
its  present  interimistic  period;  but  it  regards  with  favor  the  specu- 
lations of  the  philosopher  Schelling,  as  he  advanced  them  in  the 
latter  part  of  his  career  in  his  famous  lectures  at  the  University'  of 
Berlin.  Historical  Christianity^  w^as  at  first  Petrine,  from  Peter, 
the  apostle  of  the  Father,  deriving  its  form  from  the  princii)le  of 
law  and  authority  and  ending  in  Poper^' ;  at  the  Reformation  it  be- 
came Pauline,  from  Paul  the  apostle  of  the  Son,  the  representative 
of  freedom,  of  progress  and  enlargement;  but  in  the  future  it  is 
destined  to  become  Johannean,  in  which  the  antagonisms  and  an- 
titheses of  the  preceding  periods  Avill  be  reconciled  in  one  Holy 
Catholic  Church  of  love  mirrored  forth  alread3Mn  the  life  and  writ- 
ings of  John,  the  Apostle  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  lay  on  Jesus' 
breast  at  the  first  Lord's  Supper  and  was  the  disciple  whom  he 
loved.  Tfsucli  should  be  the  ordering  of  Providence,  then  we  may 
expect  tliat  tlie  reign  of  cliarity  will  become  wider  and  stronger 
among  Christians,  just  as  it  should  be. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  Inaugural  closes  with  a  formal  summary,  consisting  of  J12_ 
propositions  or  theses,  supposed  to  be  suitable  for  the  time. 
They  lie  back  of  the  Address,  but  they  go  beyond  it  in  their  range, 
and  form,  moreover,  a  short  treatise  on  speculative  theology,  a  vol- 
ume in  fact,  all  in  a  brief  space.  The}'  were  quite  as  practical  in  their 
day  as  thej"  were  speculative.  As  they  lay,  more  or  less,  at  the 
foundation  of  the  theological  movement  that  took  its  rise  at  Mer- 
cersburg,  we  here  present  them  to  the  reader,  somewhat  abbrevi- 
ated, but  without  any  material  omissions,  in  order  to  supplement 
our  short  and  imperfect  sketch  of  the  Address  itself: 

Ever}'  period  of  the  Church  and  Theology  has  its  particular 
problem  to  solve,  and  the  main  question  of  our  time  is  concerning 
the  nature  of  the  Church  itself  in  its  relation  to  the  world  and 
individual  Christians. 

The  Church  is  the  Body  of  Christ ;  an'  institution  founded  by 
Christ  Himself,  proceeding  from  His  loins,  and  anointed  by  His 
spirit,  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  salvation  of  man ;  and  the 
necessary  organ  through  which  the  revelation  of  God  in  Christ 
becomes  effective  in  the  world's  history,  bej'ond  which,  as  there  is 
no  Christianit}',  there  can  be  no  salvation. 

At  the  same  time  she  is  like  every  bod}^  or  organism,  a  living 
unity  of  different  members  ;  a  communion  of  faith  and  love,  visible 
as  well  as  invisible,  external  as  well  as  internal,  of  the  most  mani- 
fold individualities,  gifts  and  powers,  pervaded  b^^  the  same  spirit 
and  serving  the  same  end  ;  and,  therefore,  the  depository  and  con- 
tinuation of  the  earthly  human  life  of  the  Redeemer  in  his  three- 
fold offices  of  Prophet,  Priest  and  King. 

Hence,  like  her  founder,  she  possesses  a  divine  and  a  human,  an 
ideal  and  a  real,  a  heavenly  and  an  earthly,  nature,  possessing  only 
the  principle  of  holiness  and  the  full  truth,  mixed,  however,  still 
with  sin  and  error. 

It  is  the  mission  of  the  Church  to  purify  the  world  in  its  different 
spheres  of  Science,  Art,  Government,  and  Social  life,  with  the  puri-' 
fying  power  of  her  own  divine  life;  to  formally  organize  it  as  the 
Kingdom  of  God;  which  must  invoke  the  absolute  identity  of 
Church  and  State,  Theology  and  Philosophy,  Worship  and  Art, 
Religion  and  Morality;  and  to  renovate  the  whole  earth,  in  which 

(  20r5  ) 


Chap.  XXI]  theses  for  the  time  207 

Chi'istiaiiity  shall  liecomc  completely  the  same  with  humanity,  and 
God  Himself  shall  be  All  in  all. 

The  Church  is  the  Mother  of  believers  from  whom  they  derive 
their  religious  life,  and  to  whom  they  owe  constant  fidelit}',  oratitude 
and  ol>edience.  She  is  the  power  of  the  objective  and  general,  to 
which  the  subjective  and  particular  should  ever  be  subordinate. 
It  is  only  in  such  rational  subordination  that  the  individual  can  be 
free.  Ajiart  from  communion  with  the  life  of  the  Church,  he  is 
like  a  limb  separated  from  the  bod}',  or  a  branch  torn  from  the  vine. 

Christianity  in  itself  is  the  absolute  religion,  which  admits  of  no 
improvement ;  but  its  subjective  apprehension  and  appi-opj-iation 
b}-  the  minds  of  men  undergo  a  process  of  development  which  will 
become  complete  only  at  the  coming  of  the  Lord. 

The  Church  may  be  in  possession  of  a  truth,  long  before  it  be- 
comes conscious  of  it,  or  is  able  to  define  it.  So  it  was,  for  in- 
stance, with  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinitj'  before  the  time  of  Atha- 
nasius,with  the  doctrine  of  human  freedom  and  divine  grace  before 
Augustine,  and  Avith  the  evangelical  doctrine  of  justification  l)v 
taith  previous  to  the  Reformation. 

The  idea  unfolded  in  profound  style  more  particularly  by  the 
later  German  Philosophy  that  history  involves  a  continual  i)rogress 
towards  something  better  by  means  of  dialectic  antitheses,  (Gegen- 
saetze),  is  substantially  true  and  correct,  provided  we  recognize 
in  such  conflicts  a  corresponding  movement  of  _evil  also  towards 
that  which  is  worse.  The  wheat  and  the  tares  grow  together 
until  the  two  developments  shall  become  complete. 

In  the  Church,  therefore,  we  must  distinguish  between  idea  and 
manifestation.  As  to  the  former  she  is  complete  ;  as  to  the  latter 
she  is  imperfect  and  must  pass  through  different  stages  of  life  until 
the  ideal  actualized  in  Christ  is  actualized  in  humanity  at  large, 
and  his  body  appears  thus  in  the  ripeness  of  complete  manhood. 

Such  a  dialectic  process  or  growth  is  attended  with  diseases 
and  crises,  theoretical  in  the  form  of  heresies,  and  practical  in  the 
form  of  schisms. 

In  the  wise  Providence  of  God  all  heresies  and  schisms  are  so 
overruled  as  to  bring  the  Church  to  a  clearer  consciousness  of  her 
true  vocation,  a  deeper  apprehension  of  her  faith,  and  a  piiier  rev- 
elation of  the  power  included  in  her  life. 

The  i)resence  of  disease  in  the  body  of  Christ  requires  a  reme- 
dial or  creative  process,  not  in  violent  Revolution  or  in  conserva- 
tive Rei>ristination,  but  in  health-inspiring  reformation.  Protest- 
antism, consequently,  in  its  proper  sense,  belongs  indispensably  to 


208  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  VIII 

the  life  of  the  Church,  as  the  reaction  of  her  own  proper  Adtality 
in  opposition  to  the  workings  of  disease  lurking  in  her  system. 

Protestantism  runs  through  the  entire  history  of  the  Church,  and 
will  continue  to  be  active  until  she  is  jDurged  from  all  impure  ele- 
ments. The  most  grand  and  widely  influential  exhibition  of  Prot- 
estantism is  presented  to  us  in  the  Reformation  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  leading  to  the  formal  constitution  of  the  Evangelical 
Church,  as  originated  and  in  its  most  deep  inward  and  trul}'  apos- 
tolic form,  carried  out  and  consummated  by  the  German  nation. 

It  is  a  jejune  and  narrow  conception  of  this  event  to  look  upon 
it  simpl}^  as  a  restoration  of  the  original  state  of  the  Church,  or  a 
renewal  of  Augustinism  against  the  Pelagian  system,  by  which  it 
had  been  supplanted.  Such  a  view  proceeds  on  the  fundamentally 
erroneous  position,  that  the  religious  life  revealed  in  the  person  of 
Christ  primarily,  and  by  derivation  from  Him  in  His  Apostles,  has 
been  fully  actualized  also  from  the  beginning  in  the  general  mass 
of  the  Church.  Rather,  the  Reformation  must  be  viewed  as  an  ac- 
tual advance  of  the  religious  life  and  consciousness  of  the  Church, 
by  a  deeper  apprehension  of  God's  word,  beyond  all  previous  at- 
tainments of  Christendom. 

But  just  as  little  must  the  Reformation  be  viewed  as  a  revolu- 
tionary separation  from  the  Catholic  Church,  holding  connection 
at  best,  perhaps,  with  some  fractionary  sect  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
and  only  through  this  and  the  help  of  certain  desperate  historical 
leaps  besides,  reaching  back  to  the  age  of  the  Apostles. 

Rather,  the  Reformation  must  be  viewed  as  the  greatest  act  of 
the  Catholic  Church  itself,  the  full  ripe  fruit  of  all  its  better  tenden- 
cies, particularly  of  the  deep  spiritual  law  conflicts  of  the  Middle 
Period,  which  were  as  a  schoolmaster  towards  the  Protestant  doc- 
trine of  justification. 

The  separation  was  produced,  not  by  the  will  of  the  Reformers, 
but  b}^  the  stiff-necked  Papacy,  which,  like  Judaism  at  the  time  of 
Christ,  identifying  itself  in  a  fleshly  way  with  the  idea  of  the  abso- 
lute Church,  refused  to  admit  the  onward  movement. 

Thus  apprehended,  Protestantism  has  as  large  an  interest  in  the 
vast  historical  treasures  of  the  pi-evious  period,  as  can  be  claimed 
rightfully  by  the  Church  of  Rome.  Hence  the  arguments  drawn 
by  Romanists  from  this  quarter,  and  particularly  from  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  the  proper  cradle  of  the  Reformation,  have  no  applica- 
tion against  our  stand-point.  Equally  false  finally  is  the  view, 
whether  popular  or  philosophical,  by  which  the  Reformation  is 
made  to  consist  in  the  absolute  emancipation  of  the  Christian  life, 


ClIAP.  XXI]  THESES   FOR   THE    TIME  209 

subjectively  considered  from  all  Church  authority,  and  the  exalta- 
tion of  private  jud<rnient  to  the  papal  throne. 

On  the  contrary,  it  is  (piite  clear  from  history  tliat  the  Reform- 
ers aimed  only  at  such  li1)erty  of  faith  and  conscience,  and  such  in- 
dependence of  private  judgment  as  should  involve  an  humble  sul> 
jection  of  the  natural  will,  which  they  held  to  be  incai)al)le  of  all 
good,  to  God's  grace,  and  of  the  human  reason  to  God's  Word,  In- 
deed their  opposition  to  the  Roman  traditions  Avas  itself  based  on 
the  conviction,  that  they  Avere  the  i)roduct  of  such  reason,  sundered 
from  the  Divine  Word. 

The  material,  or  life  princi[)le  of  Protestantism,  is  the  Doctrine 
of  Justification  l)y  Grace  alone,  through  the  merits  of  Jesus  Christ, 
by  means  of  living  faith  ;  that  is,  the  personal  appropriation  of 
Christ  in  the  totality  of  the  inner  man.  This  does  not  overthrow 
good  works ;  rather,  they  are  rightly  called  for  and  made  possible 
only  in  this  way ;  with  dependence,  however,  on  faith,  as  being  its  • 
necessai-y  fruit,  the  subjective  impression  of  the  life  of  Christ,  in 
opposition  to  Pelagianism,  which  places  works  parallel  with  faith, 
or  even  above  it. 

The  formal  or  knowledge  principle  of  Protestantism  is  the  suf-  ^ 
ficiency  and  unerring  certainty  of  the  Hoi}-  Scriptures  as  the  only 
norm  of  saving  knowledge.  This  does  not  overthrow  the  idea  of 
Church  tradition;  but  simply  makes  it  dependent  on  the  Avritten  ^ 
word,  as  the  stream  is  upon  the  fotnitain — the  necessar}-,  ever-deep- 
ening onAvard  flow  of  the  sense  of  Scripture  itself,  as  it  is  carried 
forward  in  the  consciousness  of  the  Christian  Avorld;  contrary  to 
the  Romish  dogma,  by  which  tradition,  as  the  bearer  of  different 
contents  altogether,  is  made  co-ordinate  with  the  Bible,  or  CA-en 
exalted  aboA'e  it. 

These  tAvo  principles,  rightly  apprehended,  are  only  different  mu- 
tnallv  supplementary'  sides  of  one  and  the  same  principle,  and  their 
living  intt'rpenetration  forms  the  criterion  of  orthodox  Protestant- 
ism. 

Opposition  to  the  Roman  Catliolic  extreme,  according  to  the 
general  law  of  historical  progress,  led  the  Reformers  to  place  the 
strongest  emi)hasis  on  justification  and  fixith,  scripture  and  jireach- 
ing;  whence  the  possibility  of  a  one-sided  development,  in  wiiich 
holiness  and  love,  tradition  and  sacrament,  might  not  be  aUowt'd  to 
come  to  their  full  rights. 

Respect  for  the  Reformation  as  a  divine  work  in  no  way  forbids 
the  admission  that  it  included  some  mixture  of  error  nnd  sin;  as 
Avhere  God  builds  a  church,  the  Devil  erects  a  chapel  by  its  side. 


210  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

In  any  view,  howeA'or,  the  Reformation  must  be  regarded  as  still, 
incomplete.     It  needs  ^^et  its  concluding  act,  to  unite  what  has 
fallen  asunder,  to  bring  the  subjective  to  a  reconciliation  with  the 
objective. 

Puritanism  may  be  considered  a  sort  of  second  reformation,  called 
forth  b3-  the  reappearance  of  Romanizing  elements  in  the  Anglican 
Church,  and  as  such  forms  the  basis  to  a  great  extent  of  American 
Protestantism,  particularly  in  New  England.  Its  highest  recommen- 
dation, bearing  a  divine  signature,  is  presented  in  its  deep  practical 
earnestness  as  it  regards  religion,  and  its  zeal  for  personal  piet}' ; 
by  which  it  has  been  more  successful  perhaps  than  any  other  section 
of  the  Church,  for  a  time,  in  the  work  of  saving  individual  souls. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  falls  far  beyond  the  German  Reformation  bj' 
its  revolutionary,  unhistorical,  and  consequent!}'  unchurchl}'  char- 
acter, and  carries  in  itself  no  protection  whatever  against  an  indefi- 
nite subdivision  of  the  Church  into  separate  atomistic  sects.  For, 
having  no  proper  conception  of  a  historical  development  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  with  its  negative  attitude  of  blind  irrational  zeal  to- 
wards the  past  in  its  own  rear,  it  may  be  said  to  have  armed  its 
children  with  the  same  right,  and  the  same  tendency  too,  to  treat 
its  authority  with  equal  independence  and  contempt. 

Protestantism  has  formed  the  starting  point  and  centre  of  all  im- 
portant movements  in  the  history  of  the  last  three  centuries,  and 
constitutes  now  also  the  main  interest  of  the  time. 

The  history  of  Protestantism,  in  the  sphere  of  Religion,  Science, 
Art,  and  Government,  especially  since  the  beginning  of  the  eight- 
eenth century,  may  be  regarded  as  the  development  of  the  principle 
of  subjectivity^  the  consciousness  of  freedom. 

In  this  development,  however,  it  has  gradually-  become  estranged 
to  a  great  extent  from  its  own  original  nature,  and  fallen  dialecti- 
cally  into  its  ojDppsite,  according  to  the  general  course  of  history. 
Its  grand  maladies  at  this  time  are  Rationalism  and  Sectism. 

S£ctism  is  one-sided  practical  religious  subjectivism^  and  has 
found  its  classic  soil  within  the  territory  of  the  Reformed  Church, 
in  the  predominantly  practical  countries,  England  and  America. 

Rationalism  is  one-sided  theoretic  religious  subjectivism ,  and  its 
fullest  and  most  perfect  exhibition  has  taken  place  accordingly  in 
Germany,  the  land  of  theory  and  science,  and  in  the  bosom  of  the 
Lutheran  Church. 

These  two  diseases  stand  in  a  relation  to  Protestantism,  similar 
to  that  of  the  papac}-  to  Catholicism  in  the  Middle  Ages  ;  that  is, 
they  have  a  conditional  historical  necessity,  and  an  outward  con- 


Chap.  XXI]  theses  fur  the  time  211 

iicetioii   with  tbo  system  to  -which  they  adhere,  Init  nevertheless 
contradict  and  caricatnre  its  inmost  nature. 

Tlie  secuhir  interests,  Science,  Art,  Government,  and  Social  Life, 
have  become  since  the  Reformation  dissociated  from  the  Church, 
in  whose  service  the}'  stood,  althongh  with  an  unfree  snbjngation 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  and  in  this  separate  form  are  advanced  to  a 
high  state  of  perfection.  This,  however,  is  a  false  position,  since 
the  Kingdom  of  God  reqnires  that  all  divinel}^  constituted  forms 
and  spheres  of  life  should  be  brought  to  serve  Ilim  in  the  most 
intimate  alliance  with  religion,  that  God  may  be  all  in  all. 

The  orthodox  Protestantism  of  the  present  da}',  although  some- 
thing dilferent  from  Rationalism  and  Sectarism  in  all  other  respects, 
is  distinguished  in  common  Avith  them,  particularly  in  this  country, 
by  the  quality  of  a  one-sided  subjectivity,  Avhich,  however,  em- 
bodies in  it  at  the  same  time  a  large  amount  of  personal  i)iety.  Its 
great  defect,  therefore,  is  the  want  of  an  adecjuate  concei)tion  of 
the  nature  of  the  Church  and  of  its  relation  to  the  iudividual 
Christian  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  general  life  of  man  on  the  other. 

Hence  proceeds,  first,  indifierence  towards  Sectarism,  or  at 
least  denominational  divisions  which  are  at  war  with  the  idea  of  the 
Church  as  the  Body  of  Christ. 

Secondly,  a  want  of  respect  for  history,  and  a  disposition  to  fall 
back  directly  and  wholly  upon  the  Scriptures,  without  regard  to 
the  development  of  their  contents  in  the  life  of  the  Church,  as  it 
stood  from  the  beginning. 

Thirdly,  an  undervaluation  of  the  Sacraments  as  objective  in- 
stitutions of  the  Lord,  independent  of  individual  views  and  states. 

Fourthl}',  a  disproportionate  esteem  for  the  service  of  preaching, 
with  a  corresponding  sacrifice  in  the  case  of  the  Liturgy,  the  stand- 
ing objective  part  of  divine  worship,  in  which  the  irhole  congrega- 
tion is  called  to  pour  fortli  its  religious  life  to  God. 

And  fifthly,  a  circumscribed  concei)tion  of  the  all-pervading 
leaven-like  nature  of  the  Gospel,  involving  an  abstract  separation 
of  religion  from  the  divinel}'  established  order  of  the  world  in  other 
spheres. 

To  this  must  bo  added,  in  the  case  of  a  number  of  denominations, 
the  fancy  of  their  own  perfection,  an  idea  that  their  particular  tradi- 
tional style  of  religion  can  never  be  improved  into  anything  better, 
which  is  a  rejection  of  the  Protestant  principle  of  mobility  and 
])rogress,  and  a  virtual  relapse  accordingly  into  the  ground  error  of 
the  Church  of  Rome. 

The  stand-point  and  witli   it   the  wants  of  our  time  are  wholly 


212  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

different  from  those  of  the  sixteenth  centnry.  Our  most  immediate 
danger  now  is  not  from  the  Church  of  Rome,  but  from  a  one-sided 
subjectivism;  in  part  heterodox  and  anti-cliristian,  in  part  orthodox 
and  pious,  but  alwaj's  fiilse,  by  whicli  the  rights  of  the  Church  are 
wronged  in  our  midst. 

The  redeeming  tendenc}^  of  the  age,  therefore,  is  not  that  which 
shall  emancipate  its  subjectivity  from  the  fetters  of  bondage,  as  at 
the  time  of  the  Reformation,  but  it  is  rather  that  which  regards  the 
claims  of  objectivity^  in  the  true  idea  of  the  Church. 

Not  until  Protestantism  shall  have  repented  of  its  own  faults  and 
healed  its  own  wounds,  may  it  expect  to  prevail  finally  over  the 
Church  of  Rome.  The  ftict  that  Popery  has  been  enabled  to  make 
such  formidable  progress  latterly,  especially  in  England  and  the 
United  States,  ma^^  be  regarded  as  a  divine  judgment,  because  Prot- 
estantism has  in  a  great  measure  here  neglected  its  duty. 

Puseyism,  (with  which  of  course  we  must  not  confound  the 
spurious  after.-birth  of  fantastic  hollow-hearted  affectation,  always 
to  be  expected  in  such  a  case),  may  be  considered  in  its  original  in- 
tention and  best  tendency"  a  well-meant,  but  insufficient  and  un- 
successful attempt  to  correct  the  ultra  subjectivity  of  Protestantism. 

In  this  view  we  have  reason  to  rejoice  in  its  appearance,  as  indi- 
cating on  the  part  of  the  Protestant  world  a  waking  consciousness 
of  the  malady  under  which  it  labors  in  this  direction,  and  serving 
also  to  promote  right  church  feeling. 

By  its  reverence  for  Church  antiquity,  it  exerts  a  salutary  in- 
fluence against  what  may  be  considered  as  the  reigning  error  of  the 
times,  a  wild  revolutionary  zeal  for  libert}^,  coupled  with  a  profane 
scorn  of  all  that  is  holy  in  the  experience  of  the  past. 

So  also  its  stress  laid  upon  forms  exhibits  a  wholesome  reaction 
against  the  irrational  hj-per-spiritualism,  so  common  among  even 
the  best  Protestants,  which  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  alone, 
as  taught  in  the  Bible,  is  enough  to  prove  fallacious. 

Church  forms  serve  two  general  purposes :  First,  the}'  are  for 
the  lower  stages  of  religious  development  conductors  over  into  the 
life  of  the  Spirit;  secondly,  they  are  for  the  Church  at  large  the 
necessary  ntterances  or  corporealization  of  the  spirit  in  the  view  in 
which  (Etinger's  remark  holds  good,  that  "  Corpoi-eity  is  the  scojje 
of  God'S  ?r(7j/.s-." 

All  turns  simply  on  this,  that  the  form  be  answerable  to  the  con- 
tents, and  be  actuated  by  the  Spirit.  A  formless  spiritualism  is  no 
whit  l)etter  than  a  spiritless  or  dead  formalism.  The  only  right 
condition  is  a  sound  spirit  within  a  sound  bodv. 


Chap.  XXI]  theses  for  the  time  213 

The  grand  defect  of  Puseyism,  on  the  other  hand,  is  its  iinpro- 
testant  character,  in  not  recognizing  the  importance  of  the  Refor- 
mation, and  the  idea  of  i)rogress  in  the  life  of  the  Church  since. 

It  is  for  this  reason  onl}'  half  historical  and  half  Catholic,  since 
its  sympathy  and  respect  for  the  past  life  of  the  Church  stop  short 
with  the  sixteenth  century. 

Its  view  of  the  Church  altogether  is  outward  and  mechanical, 
excluding  the  conception  of  a  living  development  through  the  suc- 
cessive periods  of  its  history. 

This  character  appears  particular!}-  in  its  theory-  of  the  Episco- 
pal succession;  which  is  only  a  new  form  of  the  old  Pharisaic  Ju- 
daism and  makes  the  apostolicity  of  the  Church  dependent  on  an 
historical  inipiiry  (in  the  case  of  which,  besides,  no  absolute  cer- 
tainty is  possible),  resting  it  thus  on  a  wholly  precarious  founda- 
tion. 

Puseyism  then  is  to  be  regarded  as  nothing  more  than  a  simple 
reaction,  which  has  served  to  bring  to  light  the  evils  of  ultra  pseudo- 
protestant  individualism,  but  offers  no  remedj^  for  it  save  the  per- 
ilous alternative  of  falling  back  to  a  stand-point  alread}'  surmounted 
in  the  wa^'  of  religious  progress. 

The  true  stand-point,  all  necessary  for  the  wants  of  the  times,  is 
that  of  Protestant  Catholicism,  or  genuine  historical  progress. 

This  holds  equally  remote  from  all  unchurchly  subjectivity  and 
all  Romanizing  churchism,  although  it  acknowledges  and  seeks  to 
unite  in  itself  the  truth  which  lies  at  the  foundation  of  both  these 
extremes. 

Occupying  this  historical  stand-point  from  which  the  moving  of 
God's  spirit  is  discerned  in  all  periods  of  the  Church,  we  may  not 
in  the  first  place  surrender  anything  essential  of  the  positive  acqui- 
sition secured  by  the  Reformation,  whether  Lutheran  or  Reformed. 

Neither  may  we  again  absolutely  negative  the  later  developments 
of  Protestantism,  not  even  Rationalism  and  Sectarism  themselves, 
but  must  appropriate  to  ourselves  rather  the  element  of  truth  the}' 
contain,  rejecting  only  the  vast  alio}'  of  error  from  which  it  is  to 
be  extracted. 

Rationalism  and  Sectism  possess  historical  right,  so  far  as  the 
principle  of  subjectivity,  individuality,  singleness  and  independence 
can  l)e  said  to  be  possessed  of  right;  that  is,  so  far  as  this  comes 
not  in  conflict  with  the  principle  of  objectivity,  generality,  the 
Church,  authority  and  law;  so  far  then  as  it  continues  subordinate 
to  these  forces. 

Rationalism  was  a  necessary  schoolmaster  for  the  orthodox  the- 


214  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844*  [DiV.  YIII 

olog\v,  destroying  its  groundless  prejudices,  and  compelling  it  to 
accept  a  more  scientific  form  in  general;  and  also  in  particular  to 
allow  the  human,  the  earthl}^,  the  historical,  in  the  theanthropic  na- 
ture of  Christ  and  the  Church,  to  come  more  fully  to  its  rights. 

Whilst,  however,  the  earlier  historico-critical  Rationalism  has 
promoted  a  right  understanding  of  the  natural  and  historical  in 
Christianit}',  this  understanding  in  its  case  remains  still  but  half 
true,  since  it  has  no  organ  for  Ideas^  the  inward  life  of  which  his- 
tory after  all  is  but  the  bodj'. 

The  later  speculative  Rationalism,  or  pantheistic  Mythologism, 
or  the  Hegelingians,  as  they  have  been  deridingl^^  styled,  (Dr. 
Strauss  and  his  colleagues),  which  from  the  Ebionitic  stand-point 
of  the  old  system  has  swung  over  to  the  opposite  extreme  of  docetic 
Gnostic  idealism,  fails  to  apprehend  the  idea  of  Christianity  in  its 
full  truth  and  vitality,  and  substitutes  for  it  a  phantom  or  mere 
shadow,  since  it  has  no  organ  for  historical  Reality,  the  outward 
life,  without  which  after  all  the  idea  must  perish. 

As  in  the  first  centuries  the  theology  of  the  Catholic  Church 
gradually  developed  itself,  through  scientific  struggles  with  the  two 
ground  heresies,  Ebionism  or  Christianizing  Judaism,  and  Gnosti- 
cism, or  Christianizing  Heathenism,  so  now  also  we  are  to  look  for 
a  higher  orthodoxy,  overmastering  inwardly  both  forms  of  Protest- 
ant Rationalism,  which  shall  bring  the  real  and  tlie  ideal  into  the 
most  intimate  union,  and  fully  recognize  the  eternal  spirit  of  Chris- 
tianity as  well  as  its  historical  body. 

The  germs  of  all  this  are  at  hand  in  the  later  movements  and 
achievements  of  the  believing  German  theology,  and  need  only  a 
farther  development  to  issue  at  last  in  a  full  dogmatical  reformation. 

Separation  or  division,  where  it  is  characterized  by  religious  life, 
springs  always  from  some  real  evil  in  the  Church,  and  hence  Sectism 
is  to  be  regarded  as  a  necessary  disciplinarian  and  reformer  of  the 
Church  in  its  practical  life. 

Almost  every  sect  represents  in  strong  relief  some  particular 
aspect  of  piety,  and  contributes  to  the  more  full  evolution  of  indi- 
vidual religious  activity. 

Since,  however,  the  truths  of  the  Gospel  form  an  inseparable  unity, 
and  the  single  member  can  become  complete  only  along  with  the 
whole  body  of  which  it  is  a  part,  it  follows  that  no  sect  can  ever 
do  justice  fully  even  to  the  single  interest' to  which  it  is  one-sidedly 
devoted. 

Sects,  after  they  have  fulfilled  their  historical  vocation,  should 
fall  back  to  the  general  communion  from  which  they  seceded,  and 


Chap.  XXI]         '         theses  for  the  time  215 

comniuuicate  to  it  whatever  trutlifiil  acquisitions  the}-  may  have 
made  in  a  state  of  isokition. 

It  is  a  cheering  sign  of  tlie  times,  that  in  Protestant  hxnds.  differ- 
ing most,  and  in  the  bosom  of  the  Reformed  Church  in  which  re- 
ligious individualism,  both  in  the  good  and  bad  sense,  has  been  most 
fully  developed,  it  is  coming  to  be  felt,  more  and  more,  that  the 
existing  divisions  of  the  Church  are  wrong,  and  with  this  is  waking 
more  and  move  to  an  earnest  longing  after  a  true  union  of  all  be- 
lievers in  no  communicatiou,  however,  with  the  errors  of  Oxford  or 
Rome. 

Finally,  also  the  liberation  of  the  secular  spheres  of  life  from  the 
Church  since  the  Reformation,  though  not  the  ultimate  normal 
order,  forms,  notwithstanding  as  compared  with  the  previous  vas- 
salage of  the  world  to  a  despotic  hierarchy,  an  advance  in  the 
naturalization  process  of  Christianity. 

The  luxuriant  growth  of  these  interests,  as  unfolded  in  the  Prot- 
estant States,  in  the  Arts,  the  Sciences  and  the  Social  Culture, 
laj-s  the  Church  under  obligations  to  appropriate  these  advances  to 
herself,  and  to  impress  upon  them  a  religious  character. 

The  signs  of  the  times,  then,  and  the  teachings  of  history,  point 
us  not  backwards,  but  forwards  to  a  new  era  of  the  Church  that 
may  be  expected  to  evolve  itself  gradually  from  the  present  process 
of  fermentation,  enriched  with  the  positive  gain  of  Protestantism. 

As  the  movement  of  history  in  the  Church  is  like  that  of  the 
sun  from  East  to  West,  it  is  possible  that  America,  into  whose 
broad,  majestic  bosom  the  most  various  elements  of  character  and 
education  are  poured  from  the  old  woi'ld,  ma}-  prove  the  theatre 
of  this  unitive  reformation. 

Thus  far,  if  we  put  out  of  view  the  rise  of  a  few^  insignificant 
sects,  and  the  separation  of  Church  and  State,  which  to  be  sure 
has  vei*y  momentous  bearings,  American  Church  Historj-  has  pro- 
duced nothing  original,  no  new  fact  in  the  history  of  the  Church 
as  a  whole. 

Xo  where  else,  however,  is  there  at  present  the  same  fovorable 
room  for  forther  development,  since  in  no  country  of  the  world 
does  the  Church  enjoy  such  entire  freedom,  or  the  same  power  to 
renovate  itself  from  within  according  to  its  own  pleasure. 

The  historical  progress  of  the  Church  is  always  conditioned  by 
the  national  elements,  which  form  its  ph3^sical  basis. 

The  two  leading  nationalities,  which  are  continually  coming  into 
contact  in  this  country,  and  fiowing  into  one  another  with  recipro- 
cal action,  are  the  English  and  the  German. 


216  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1810-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

The  farther  advancement  of  the  American  Chnrch,conseqnentl3', 
must  proceed  mainly  from  a  special  combination  of  German  depth 
and  Gemuethlichkeit,  with  the  force  of  character  and  active  prac- 
tical talent  for  which  the  English  are  distinguished. 

It  would  be  a  ricli  offering  then  to  the  service  of  this  approach- 
ing reformation,  on  the  part  of  the  German  Churches  in  America, 
to  transplant  hither  in  proper  measure  the  rich  wealth  of  the  bet- 
ter German  theology,  improving  it  into  sucli  form  as  our  peculiar 
relations  might  require. 

This,  their  proper  vocation,  however,  they  have  thus  far  almost 
entirely  overlooked,  seeking  their  salvation  for  the  most  part  in  a 
characterless  surrendry  of  their  own  nationality. 

In  view  of  the  particular  constitution  of  a  large  part  of  the  Ger- 
man emigration,  this  subjection  to  the  power  of  a  foreign  life  may 
be  regarded  indeed  as  salutary. 

But  the  time  has  now  come  when  our  churches  should  again  rise 
out  of  the  old  German  Adam,  enriched  and  refined  with  the  advan- 
tages of  the  English  nationalit}'. 

What  we  most  need  now  is  theoretically  a  thorough  intellectual 
theology,  scientifically  free  as  well  as  decidedly  believing,  together 
with  a  general  sense  of  history;  and  practically  a  determination  to 
hold  fast  to  the  patrimony  of  our  fathers,  and  to  go  forth  joyfully  at 
the  same  time  in  the  yvaj  in  which  God's  Spirit  b}^  providential  signs 
ma}'  lead,  with  a  proper  humble  subordination  of  all  we  do  for  our 
own  denomination  to  the  general  interests  of  the  One  Universal 
Church. 

The  ultimate,  sure  scope  of  the  Church,  towards  which  the  in- 
most wish  and  the  most  earnest  prayer  of  all  her  true  friends  con- 
tinually tend,  is  that  perfect  and  glorious  unit}',  the  desire  of  which 
may  be  said  to  constitute  the  burden  of  our  Lord's  last,  memorable, 
intercessory  Prayer  that  His  people  ma}-  be  one. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

DR.  SC HA FF'S  Inuugural  was  admirabh- translated  into  the 
Eii<4lish  language,  as  Ave  have  said,  by  Dr.  Xevin,  enhirged 
bv  the  Introduction  alread}^  referred  to,  together  with  the  Sermon 
on  Catliolic  Unity,  delivered  at  the  Triennial  Convention  at  Har- 
risburg.  This  discourse  was  approved  b}'  that  respectable  Conven- 
tion at  the  time  and  ordered  to  be  published  in  the  weekly-  papers 
of  the  two  Churches.  It  excited  considerable  interest  at  the  time, 
and  ma}-  l>e  regarded  as  Dr.  Neviu's  first  important  contribution 
towards  the  solution  of  the  Church  Question.  It  was  based  on 
Eph.  4:  4-G:  There  is  one  body  and  one  Spirit,  even  as  ye  are 
called  in  one  hofje  of  your  calling;  one  Lord,  one  faith,  one  bap- 
tism; one  God  and  Father  of  all,  who  is  above  all,  and  through 
all,  and  in  you  all. 

In  his  introductory  remarks,  the  preacher  directs  attention  to 
the  image  of  the  Church  as  here  delineated  by  the  hand  of  an  in- 
spired Apostle,  compared  with  which  nothing  in  the  whole  world 
can  be  found  to  be  so  resplendently  beautiful  or  glorious  under  anj' 
other  form.  Christ  is  the  end  of  all  separation  and  strife  to  them 
that  believe,  in  whom  all  former  distinctions  lose  their  antagonisms 
and  are  concealed  in  a  higher  unity,  which  is  as  comprehensive  as 
humanity  itself.  Christianit\'  is  the  universal  solvent,  in  which  all 
antitheses  or  opposites  are  required  to  flow  in  a  new  combination, 
pervaded  throughout  with  light  and  harmon}-.  The  hunrin  world 
is  first  reconciled  to  God,  and  then  with  itself,  by  entering  with 
living  consciousness  into  the  ground  of  its  own  life  in  the  person 
of  Christ  Himself.  "He  is  our  peace, who  hath  made  both  one, and 
hath  broken  down  the  middle  wall  of  partition  between  us ;  mak- 
ing in  Himself  of  twain  one  new  man."  Such  is  the  idea  of  the 
Church,  which  is  "the  bod}-  of  Christ,  the  fullness  of  Him  that 
fiUeth  all  in  all."  The  Apostle  does  not  sa3-,Let  there  be  one  bod}-  ^ 
and  spirit,  but  assumes  that  such  is  the  case  already,  that  there  is 
one  body — potentially — out  of  which  members  spring,  in  which  it 
perpetuall}'  stands,  and  from  which  it  must  ever  derive  all  its  har-^ 
mou}-  and  stability,  its  activity'  and  strength.  From  the  beginning 
this  great  truth  has  dwelt  deeply  in  the  consciousness  of  tlie 
Church,  in  all  ages  and  lands,  uttering  itself  with  one  accord  in 
the  article  of  the  Creed,  I  believe  in  one  IIoli/  Catholic  Church. 
14  (217) 


218  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1840-1844  [DlV.  YIII 

The  Church  is  oue  and   universal.     Her  unity  is  essential  to  her 
existence. 

The  discourse  is  divided  into  two  parts  ;  the  first  treats  of  the 
Nature  and  Constitution  of  this  Holy  Catholic  Church,  and  the 
second  of  the  Duty  of  Christians  as  it  regards  the  unity,  by  which 

jt  is  declared  to  be  thus  Catholic,  and  Hol}^,  and  True. 

/  jp^'The  unit3^  of  the  Church  rests  on  the  mystical  union  subsisting 
between  Christ  and  believers.  This  is  not  simply  moral,  the  har- 
mony of  purpose,  thought  and  feeling,  but  substantial  and  real,  in- 
cluding a  oneness  of  nature.  It  is  as  close  and  intimate  as  the 
union  which  binds  the  branches  to  the  trunk  of  the  vine,  or  the 

[members  and  the  head  of  the  same  natural  body.  Christ  Himself 
saj^s,  '  I  am  the  bread  of  life.  As  the  living  Father  hath  sent  me 
and  I  live  by  the  Father,  so  he  that  eateth  me,  even  he  shall  live 
b}^  me.'  'Except  ye  eat  the  flesh  of  the  Son  of  Man,  and  drink 
His  blood,  ye  have  no  life  in  you.'  '  We  are  meml5ers  of  His  bod}^, 
of  His  flesh,  and  His  bones.'  Such  language  as  this,  as  Calvin 
says,  is  not  hyperbolical  but  simple,  great  as  the  mystery-  which  it 
describes  may  be  to  our  apprehension.  It  is,  however,  not  more 
difficult  to  apprehend  than  the  fact  of  our  union  to  the  same  extent 
with  the  person  of  the  first  Adam. 

"We  partake,"  says  Dr.  Nevin, "  truly  and  properly  in  Adam's' 
very  nature.  His  humanity,  bodj-  and  soul,  has  passed  over  into 
our  persons.  We  are  members  of  his  body,  of  his  flesh,  and  of  his 
bones.  And  so  it  is  in  the  case  of  the  second  Adam  as  it  regards 
the  truly  regenerate.  Thej^  are  inserted  into  His  life,  through 
faith,  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  become  thus  incorpo- 
rated with  it,  as  fully  as  they  were  before  with  that  corrupt  life  the}" 
had  by  their  natural  birth.  The  whole  humanitj"  of  Christ,  soul 
and  body,  is  carried  b}-  the  process  of  the  Christian  salvation  into 
the  person  of  the  believer;  so  that  in  the  end  his  glorified  bod^^,  no 
less  than  his  glorified  soul,  will  appear  as  the  natural  and  necessary 
product  of  the  life  in  which  he  is  thus  made  to  particii)ate.  His 
resurrection  is  onl}'  his  regeneration,  full}'  revealed  at  last  and  com- 
plete. This  representation  rests  throughout  upon  the  fact  that  his 
life  is  grounded  in  the  life  of  Christ,  and  so-includes  potentially  all 
that  belongs  to  it  from  the  beginning. 

'  "  The  idea  of  this  union  on  the  part  of  believei'S  with  the  entire 
humanity  of  Christ  has  in  all  ages  entered  deeply  into  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  Church.  Hence  the  earnestness  with  which  the 
Reformers  generally  maintained  the  doctrine  of  the  real  presence 
in  the  Lord's  Supper.     The}'  saw  and  felt  more  clearly  than  many 


Chap.  XXII]  catholic  uxity  219 

of  their  followers  seem  to  see  and  feel  now,  tint  the  life  of  the  be- 
liever involves  a  communion  with  the  body  of  Christ  or  His  human- 
it}',  as  well  as  with  His  Spirit.  Calvin  (as  shown  by  quotations  Vj 
from  his  works  in  foot  notes  of  the  sermon. — Ed.)  is  particularly 
strong  with  regard  to  this  point;  and  some,  like  Dr.  Dick  and  his 
followers,  have  found  it  hard  to  find  any  sense  wliatever  in  liis  l;iii- 
gnage  on  the  subject.  The  Heidelberg  Catechism  utters  no  uncer- 
tain sound  in  regard  to  this  master}-  (here  at  least  decidedh'  Cal- 
vinistic. — Ed.),  where  it  sa^-s  that  'to  eat  the  crucified  body  and  to 
drink  the  shed  blood  of  Christ  means  also  to  become  more  and 
more  united  to  his  sacred  body,  b}-  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  dwells 
both  in  Christ  and  in  us,  so  that  we,  although  Christ  is  in  heaven 
and  we  on  earth, are  notwithstanding  flesh  of  PHs  flesh,  and  bone  of 
His  bone;  and  that  we  live  and  are  governed  by  one  Spirit,  as 
members  of  the  same  bod}'  are  by  one  soul.'  __. 

''  Partaking  in  this  wa}-  of  one  and  the  same  life  of  Christ,  Chris-] 
tians  are  vitally  related  and  joined  together  as  one  great  spiritual 
whole;  and  this  whole  is  the  Church.     The  Church,  therefore,  is  His 
Body ,  the  fullness  of  Him  that  filleth  all  in  all.    The  union  by  which  P 
it  is  held  together,  tlirough  all  ages,  is  organic.     It  is  not  a  mere '    ' 
aggregation  of  individuals,  drawn  together  by  similarity  of  inter- 
ests and  wants;  not  an  abstraction  simph',  by  which  the  common, 
in  the  midst  of  such  multifnrious  distinction,  is  separate(.l  and  put 
together  under  a  single  term.    It  is  not  merely-  the  all  that  covers  the   , 
actual  extent  of  its  meml)prship,  but  the  whole  rather,  in  which  the 
membership  is  comprehended  and  determined  from  the  beginning. 
The  Church  does  not  rest  upon  its  members,  but  the  members  rest   » 
upon  the  Church.     Individual  Christianity  is  not  older  than  general  > ' 
Christianity, but  the  general  in  this  case  goes  before  the  particular, 
ruling  and  conditioning  all  its  manifestations.     So  it  is  with  every 
organic  nature.     The  parts  in  the  end  are  onl^'  the  revelation  of 
what  was  previously  included  in  the  whole.     All  that  we  behold  in 
the  oak  lay  hidden  in  the  acorn  from  the  start.     So  too  the  human 
race  all  slept  originally  in  the  common  root  of  the  race.  j 

"  Adam  was  not  simply  a  man,  or  an  individual  like  others  born 
since;  but  he  was  thi-  man,  who  comprehended  in  himself  all  that 
has  since  appeared  in  other  men.  Humanity  as  a  whole  resided  in 
his  person.  He  was  strictly  and  truly  the  world  of  mankind. 
Through  all  ages  man  is  organically  one  nnd  the  same.  And 
parallel  with  this  is  the  constitution  of  the  Church.  The  second 
Adam  corresponds  in  all  respects  with  the  lirst.  He  is  not  a  man 
merely,  one  individual  belonging  to  the  raee  ;  but  He  is  (he  man, 


220  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-184.1  [DiV.   YIII 

eniphaticfvlly  the  Son  of  Man,  comprising  in  His  person  the  new- 
creation,  or  humanity  renewed  and  redeemed  as  a  whole.  Christ 
is  the  root  of  the  Church  ;  and  to  the  end  of  time  it  can  include  no 
more  in  its  proper  life,  however  widel_y  distributed,  than  what  is 
propedy  included  in  the  root  itself. 
r*  "The  Unity  of  the  Church  then  is  a  cardinal  truth  in  the  Chris- 
tian system  itself.  The  conception  of  individual  or  particular 
Christianity  as  something  independent  of  the  organic  whole,  which 
we  denominate  the  Church,  is  a  moral  solecism  that  necessarily-  de- 
stroys itself  Christ  cannot  be  divided.  The  members  of  the  nat- 
ural body  are  united  to  the  head,  only  by  belonging  to  the  body 
itself.  Separated  from  this,  they  cease  to  have  any  proper  exist- 
ence. And  so  it  is  here.  We  are  not  Christians,  each  one  by  him- 
self and  for  himself,  but  we  liecome  such  through  the  Church. 
Christ  lives  in  His  people  b}-  the  life  which  fills  His  bod}-,  the 
Church;  and  the^-  are  thus  all  necessaril}^  one,  before  they  can  be 
many. 

"^"  The  life  of  Christ  in  the  Church,  in  the  first  place,  is  inward  and 
invisible.  But  to  be  real  it  must  also  become  outward.  The  salva- 
tion of  the  individual  believer  is  not  complete  till  the  body  is  trans- 
figured and  made  glorious,  as  well  as  the  soul ;  and  as  it  respects 
the  whole  nature  of  man  from  the  commencement,  it  can  never  go 
forward  at  all  except  by  a  union  of  the  outward  and  inward  at 
eveiy  point  of  its  progress.  Thus,  too,  the  Church  must  be  visible 
as  well  as  invisible.  Soul  and  body, inward  power  and  outward  form, 
are  here  required  to  go  together.  Outward  forms  M'ithout  inward 
life  can  have  no  saving  force.  But  neither  can  inward  life  be  main- 
tained, on  the  other  hand,  without  outward  forms.  The  body  is 
not  the  man,  and  yet  there  can  be  no  man  where  there  is  no  body. 
Humanity-  is  neither  a  corpse  on  the  one  hand,  nor  a  phantom  on 
the  other.  The  Church  must  then  appear  externally  in  the  world, 
and  the  case  requires  that  this  manifestation  should  correspond 
with  the  inward  constitution  of  the  idea  itself. 

"The  Apostle, however, does  not  mean  to  affirm  that  the  want  of 
such  outward  and  visible  nnity  necessarily  and  at  once  overthrows 
the  existence  of  the  Church.  It  is  seldom  that  the  actual  in  the 
sphere  of  Christianit}-  full}-  corresponds  with  the  ideal.  And  as  a 
general  thing,  this  correspondence,  so  far  as  it  may  be  secured  in 
auj-  case,  is  to  be  reached  onl^^  in  a  gradual  way.  Thus  we  behold 
at  this  time  the  Christian  Avorld,  in  fact,  broken  into  various  de- 
nominations, with  separate  confessions  and  creeds,  in  which  too 
often  polemic  zeal  appears  far  more  prominent  than  Catholic  char- 


ClIAP.  XXII]  CATHOLIC    UNITY  ,  221 

ity.  Such  distraction  and  diversion  can  never  be  vindicated  as 
harmonizing  witli  the  trne  conception  of  the  Church.  The}'  dis- 
figure and  obscure  its  proper  glory,  and  give  a  false,  distorted  im- 
age of  its  inward  life.  Still  the  Church  is  not  on  this  account 
subverted  or  shut  up  to  the  precincts  of  some  single  sect,  arro- 
gantl}-  claiming  to  be  the  whole  body.  The  life  with  wliich  it  is 
anointed  does,  indeed,  seek  an  outward  revelation  in  all  respects 
answerable  to  its  own  nature;  but  as  a  process,  struggling  con- 
stantly to  such  an  end,  it  may  be  vigoroush'  active  at  the  same  time, 
under  forms  that  bear  no  right  proportion  whatever  to  its  wants. 
We  ma}'  not  doul)t,  therefore,  but  that  in  the  midst  of  all  distinc- 
tions which  have  come  to  prevail  since  the  times  of  the  Reformation, 
the  life  of  the  Church,  with  all  its  proper  attributes,  is  still  actively- 
at  work  in  ever}'  evangelical  communion.  Joined  together  in  the 
common  life  of  Christ,  the  various  divisions  of  the  Christian 
world  are  still  organicall}'  the  same  Chiych. 

"Thus  the  actual,  in  fact,  stands  far  behind  the  ideal;  but  still 
this  relation  cannot  be  rested  in  as  ultimate  and  right.  It  can  hold 
Avith  truth  onl}'  as  an  intermediate  stage,  through  which  the  life  of 
the  Church  is  constantly  struggling  towards  a  revelation,  that  shall, 
in  all  respects,  be  adequate  to  its  nature.  Christians  are  bound  to 
maintain  'the  unity  of  the  Spirit  in  the  bond  of  peace,'  and  they 
cannot  be  true  to  their  vocation,  except  as  the}'  constantly  en- 
deavor, so  far  as  in  them  lies,  to  have  this  unity  made  in  the  largest 
sense  complete,  so  that  Christ's  people  may,  in  the  full  sense  of  the 
term,  be  'one  body,'  as  well  as  one  Spirit. 

"  This  would  seem  to  be  in  some  sense  the  necessity  of  the  Church. 
The  Saviour  solemnly  prays  'that  they  may  all  be  one;  as  Thou, 
Father,  art  in  me,  and  I  in  Tliee,  that  they  also  may  be  one  in  us; 
that  the  world  may  believe  that  Thou  hast  sent  me.'  Wonderful 
words!  understood  only  by  living  communion  with  Christ  Himself. 
The  whole  Church  then  must  be  regarded  as  inwardly  groaning 
over  her  own  divisions,  and  striving  to  actualize  the  full  import  of 
this  in-ayer;  as  though  Christ  were  made  to  feel  Himself  divided, 
and  could  not  rest  until  such  unnatural  violence  should  come  to  an 
end.  And  so  if  any  man  be  in  Christ,  he  cannot  fail  to  pray  and 
work  for  the  same  object,  the  Catholic  Unity  of  the  Church  as  the 
most  important  interest  in  the  world. 

'"In  view  of  what  has  thus  been  said,  it  is  in  tlic  fust  placi'  the 
duty  of  Christians  generally  to  lay  to  heart  the  evil  that  is  compre- 
hended in  the  actual  disunion  and  division  which  now  prevail  in 
the  Catholic  or  Universal  Church.     The  Cliurili  ought  to  be  visibly 


222  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1840-1844  [DiV.    VIII 

one  and  Catholic  as  she  is  one  and  Catholic  in  her  inward  life;  and 
the  want  of  such  nnit_y,  as  it  appears  in  the  present  state  of  the 
Protestant  world,  with  its  rampant  sectarianism  and  individualism, 
'is  a  lamentation,  and  shall  he  for  a  lamentation '  until  of  God's 
merc_y  this  sore  reproach  be  rolled  away. 

"  Apologies  are  sometimes  made  for  the  existence  of  sects  in  the 
i  Church  as  necessary  to  provoke  each  other  to  zeal  and  good  works. 
Without  them,  it  is  alleged,  the  Church  would  stagnate  and  grow 
corrupt.  This  sounds  well,  but  it  is  false  notwithstanding,  injurious 
to  Christ,  and  a  reflection  upon  Christianity  itself.  Our  various 
sects,  as  the}'  now  actually  exist,  are  an  immense  evil  in  the  Church. 
Whatever  may  be  said  in  palliating  their  existence, it  is  certain  that 
the}'  mar  the  unity  of  Christ's  body  in  fact,  and  deprive  it  of  its 
proper  beauty  and  strength.  The  evil  may  in  a  certain  sense  be 
necessary,  but  the  necessit}'  is  like  that  which  exists  for  the  rise  of 
heresies,  itself  the  presence  of  a  deep-seated  evil,  in  which  the 
Church  has  no  right  quietl}^  to  acquiesce.  Our  sects,  as  they  actu- 
ally stand  at  the  present  time,  are  a  reproach  to  the  Christian  cause. 
By  no  possibilit}^  could  they  be  countenanced  and  approved  as  good 
1>3-  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  if  He  should  appear  again  in'the  world 
as  the  visible  Head  of  His  people.     This  all  must  feel. 

"  We  do  not  suppose  that  the  visible  unity  of  the  Church  de- 
mands a  single  visible  head,  like  the  Pope  of  Rome,  who  is  justly 
styled  Antichrist  for  this  very  pretension.  We  do  not  suppose  that 
it  can  hold  only  under  a  given  organization,  stretching  its  arms 
from  one  end  of  the  earth  to  the  other,  according  to  the  dream  of 
tlie  High  Church  Episcopalian.  But  this  much  it  most  certainly 
does  require  that  the  middle  walls  of  partition,  as  the}^  now  divide 
sect  from  sect,  should  be  broken  down,  and  the  whole  Christian 
Church  brought  not  only  to  acknowledge  and  feel,  but  to  show 
itself  evidentl}'  one.  How  far  it  is  from  this  at  the  present  time, 
it  is  not  necessaiy  to  say.  Now  what  is  wanted  first  of  all,  is  a 
clear  perception  on  the  part  of  the  Church  as  a  whole,  that  is,  on 
the  part  of  Christians  generally,  that  the  want  of  such  visible 
unity  is  a  wrong,  and  such  a  wrong  as  calls  aloud  continuall}^  for 
redress.  Without  this,  most  assuredly,  the  captivity  of  Zion  will 
never  come  to  an  end.  The  heart  of  the  Church  must  be  filled 
with  an  earnest  and  deep  sense  of  her  own  calamit}^,  as  thus  torn 
and  rent  with  such  vast  division,  before  she  can  be  engaged  suc- 
cessfully to  follow  after  union  and  peace.  It  needs  to  be  deej^ly 
pondered  upon,  that  the  spirit  of  sect  and  party,  as  such,  is  contrary 
to  Christ;  and  that  the  present  state  of  the  Church  involves  the 


Chap.  XXII]  catholic  unity  223 

sin  of  schism  to  a  most  serious  extent.  Denominations  are  not 
necei^mrilij  sects,  and  every  separate  ecclesiastical  position  is  not 
to  tie  denounced  at  once  as  schisindl ic.  But  take  it  altogether  there 
is  schism  in  our  divisions.  The  unity  of  Christ's  Body  is  not 
maintained.     This  we  are  called  upon  to  consider  and  lament.  j- 

"  Let  it  he  admitted  that  there  is  no  way  open  at  present  hy  which 
we  have  any  prospect  of  seeing  these  walls  of  partition  broken 
down;  still  it  is  none  the  less  the  duty  of  all  who  love  Christ,  to 
take  to  heart  the  presence  of  the  evil  itself,  to  be  humbled  before 
God  on  account  of  it,  and  to  desire  earnestly  that  it  may  come  to 
an  end.  Docs  it  not  lie  in  the  conception  of  the  Church,  that 
these  divisions  should  pass  away  and  make  room  for  the  reign  at 
last  of  Catholic  unity  and  love?  If  sects. as  they  now  appear  have 
been  the  necessary  fruitage  of  the  Reformation,  then  must  we  say 
that  tlie  Reformation,  being  as  we  hold  it  to  be  from  God,  has  not 
yet  been  conducted  towards  its  legitimate  results,  in  this  respect  at 
least.  What  it  has  divided  it  must  have  power  again  in  due  time 
to  bring  together  and  unite.  Our  Protestant  Christianity-  cannot 
continue  to  stand  in  its  present  form.  A  Church  without  unity 
can  neither  conquer,  the  world,  nor  sustain  the  world.  We  are 
bound  therefore  to  expect  that  this  unity  will  not  alwaj's  be  want- 
ing. The  hour  is  coming,  though  it  be  not  now,  when  the  pra^-er 
of  Christ  that  the  Church  may  be  one  will  appear  gloriously 
fulfilled  in  its  actual  character  and  state,  throughout  the  whole 
world.  But  before  this  great  change  is  effected,  it  must  be  the  ob- 
ject first  of  much  earnest  prayer,  desire  and  expectation.  It  is  not 
b}-  might  and  by  power,  not  b}^  outward  urging  and  driving  in  the 
common  style,  but  only  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord,  that  anj'  such 
revolution  as  this  can  be  accomplished.  A  crusade  against  sects, 
or  a  society  to  put  down  sects  in  a  negative  wav,  can  answer  no 
good  purpose  here  in  the  end.  If  the  evil  is  ever  to  be  effectually 
surmounted,  it  must  be  by  the  growth  of  Christian  charity  in  the 
bosom  of  the  Church  itself.  No  union  can  be  of  any  account  at  all, 
that  is  not  produced  by  inward  sympathy  and  agreement  between 
the  parties  it  brings  together.  But  this  i)reparation  of  the  heart  is 
itself  something  to  be  sought  and  cultivated,  and  we  ma^-  say  that 
the  very  first  step  towards  it  consists  in  just  th.1t  consideration  and 
concern  which  is  now  represented  to  be  due  in  the  case  of  Christians 
on  the  whole  subject. 

"A  no-sect  party  in  the  Church,  bent  only  on  pulling  down  and^ 
having  no  p6wer  to  reconstruct,  must  ever  be  found  itself  one  of 
the  worst  forms  of  separation,  aggravating  the  mischief  it  proposes 


224  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1810-1814  [DiV.  VIII 

to  heal.  It  is  not  b}"  renouncing  then  their  allegiance  to  particular 
denominations,  and  affecting  to  hold  themselves  independent  of  all, 
^that  men  may  expect  to  promote  the  cause  of  Christian  unity.  The 
union  of  the  Church,  in  any  case,  is  not  to  be  established  by  strat- 
agem or  mere  policy  of  any  kind.  To  be  A^alid,  it  must  be  free,  the 
^spontaneous  product  of  Christian  knowledge  and  Christian  love. 
It  can  never  hold  extern all^^,  not  even  from  certain  advantages  that 
it  ma}^  seem  to  bring  with  it,  until  it  is  made  necessary  b}-  the  pres- 
ence of  inward  want,  refusing  to  be  satisfied  on  any  other  terms. 
But  all  this  does  not  involve  the  consequence  that  there  is  nothing 
to  be  done  on  the  part  of  Christians,  to  hasten  this  consummation 
in  time.  It  is  by  inward  and  spiritual  action,  precisely,  that  the 
way  of  the  Lord  is  to  be  prepared  for  any  such  deliverance,  and  to 
such  action  all  who  love  the  prosperit}'  of  Zion  are  solemnly-  bound. 
When  it  shall  come  to  this,  that  by  such  inward  action  the  Church 
shall  be  fully  ripe  for  union,  the  difficulties  that  now  stand  will 
soon  be  found  crumbling  and  dissolving  into  thin  air.  'Every 
valley  shall  be  exalted,  and  every  mountain  and  hill  shall  be  made 
low ;  and  the  crooked  shall  be  made  straight,  and  the  rough  places 
plain.'  That  which  is  impossible  with  men  is  easily  accomplished 
by  God. 

,  "  Then,  in  the  third  place,  it  is  the  duty  of  the  Church  to  observe 
and  improve  all  opportunities,  by  which  it  is  made  possible  in  any 
measure,  from  time  to  time,  to  advance,  in  a  visible  wa}^,  the  inter- 
est of  Catholic  unity.  We  are  not  at  liberty  in  the  case  to  run 
before  the  Lord  presumptuously,  taking  the  whole  work  into  our 
own  hands;  but  we  are  bound,  at  the  same  time,  to  follow  promptly 
where  He  leads.  Just  so  soon,  and  as  far,  therefore,  as  the  way 
maj^  be  open  in  any  direction  for  advancing  the  outward  and  visible 
oneness  of  the  Church,  without  prejudice  to  its  true  inward  integ- 
rity, it  is  our  solemn  duty  to  turn  the  occasion  to  the  highest  ac- 
count. It  is  not  to  be  imagined,  of  course,  that  the  general  recon- 
ciliation of  the  divisions  that  now  prevail  in  the  Christian  world, 
in  whatever  form  it  may  at  last  appear,  will  be  effected  suddenly 
and  at  once.  It  must  come,  if  it  comes  at  all,  as  a  process  grad- 
ually ripening  into  this  glorious  result.  Every  instance  then  in 
which  the  open  correspondence  and  communion  of  particular  sec- 
tions of  the  Church  is  made  to  assume,  in  a  free  way,  a  more  inti- 
mate character  than  it  had  before,  deserves  to  be  hailed  as  being, 
to  some  extent,  at  least,  an  approximation  towards  the  unit}'-  which 
the  whole  body  is  destined  finally  to  reach.  No  movement  of  this 
sort  can  be  regarded  as  indifferent.     Whatever  can  serve  in  au}^ 


Chap,  XXII]  catholic  unity  225 

way  to  brinii;  together  the  moral  dispersions  of  the  house  of  Israel, 
must  l)e  counted  worthy  of  the  most  earnest  regard. 

"It  is  terril)le  to  be  concerned,  however  remotely,  in  dividing 
the  Church  ;  but  a  high  and  glorious  privilege  to  take  part,  even 
to  the  smallest  extent,  in  the  work  of  restoring  the  divisions  where 
the}'  alread}'  exist.  I  would  not  for  the  world  be  the  founder  of  a 
new  sect,  though  assured  that  millions  would  at  last  range  them- 
selves beneath  its  shadow ;  but  if  I  might  be  instrumental  with 
the  huml)lest  agency  in  helping  only  to  pull  down  a  single  one  of 
all  those  walls  of  partition,  that  now  mock  the  idea  of  Catholic 
unity  in  the  visible  Church,  I  should  feel  that  I  had  not  lived  in 
vain,  nor  labored  without  the  most  ample  and  enduring  reward." 
The  sermon  concluded  with  a  highlv  favorable  reference  to  the 

I  effort  that  had  just  been  made  to  bring  about  a  closer  union  b;^'- 
tween  the  Dutch  and  German  Keformed  Churches  in  this  country. 
Encouraging  progress  had  been  made  in  that  direction,  of  which 
the  Triennial  Convention  at  Harrisburg  was  a  suflicient  proof.  It 
was  merely  an  advisory  body,  a  friendly  arrangement,  Viy  which  it 
was  hoped  that  the  two  denominations  might  be  fully  united  in  the 
future.  Dr.  Xevin  thought  that  it  was  just  one  of  those  oppor- 
tunities that  presented  itself  to  promote  the  cause  of  church  union 
in  general,  and- with  the  blessing  of  God,  might  be  followed  with 
consequences  of  good,  far  more  vast  than  au}^  one  at  the  time  had 
the  power  to  imagine.  But  these  expectations  were  not  realized  at 
the  time,  and  sad  to  saj',  the  Triennial  Convention  had  only  a  brief 
existence.  It  first  meeting  was  also  its  last.  The  day  had  not  yet 
come  even  for  the  unification  of  these  two  denominations,  which  had 
been  very  closely  connected  from  the  beginning  of  their  historj-  in 
this  countr}-.  The  Church  (Question  needed  further  discussion,  and 
it  was  necessary  that  a  genuine  Church  consciousness  sliould  first 
be  awakened,  and  this  then  was  to  be  educated  and  made  to  take  a 
wider  range. 

We  liave  been  thus  specific  in  giving  the  contents  of  the  Inau- 
gural and  the  Sermon  on  Catholic  Unity,  because  they  were  the 
basis  of  what  began  to  be  called  "  Mercersburg  Theology."  and  the 
starting  i)oint  of  numerous  very  earnest  discussions  and  controver- 

isies.  There  was  here  substantially  a  remarkable  agreement  in  the 
views  of  the  two  writers,  or  founders  of  this  new  theological  school, 
the  one  having  been  brought  up  in  a  strict  puritanic  school,  and 
the  other  having  just  come  from  the  heart  of  German  theology  at 
Berlin,  trained  by  such  theologians  as  Xeander  and  other  giants  in 
theological  science.     It  was  not,  however,  brought  about  simply 


226  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1S40-1844  [DiV.  YIII 

to  produce  harmony,  but  was  the  result  of  previous  traiuino-  on  the 
part  of  Dr.  Nevin.  He  had  also  studied  the  Church  Question,  and 
was  prepared  not  only  to  endorse  the  Inaugural,  but  to  supplement 
it  with  thoughts  of  his  own.  Dr.  Schaff  made  his  contribution  to 
the  solution  of  the  problem  mainlj^  from  the  domain  of  Church  His- 
tory; Dr.  Nevin,  on  the  other  hand,  more  particularly  from  the 
stand-point  of  the  m3-stical  union  subsisting  between  Christ  and  be- 
lievers, and  of  a  sound  evangelical  theology.  Whilst  there  may  have 
been  points  of  divergence,  amounting  possibly  to  some  diflerence  of 
tendencies,  in  the  two  productions,  the^^  are  substantially  the  same 
in  the  fundamental  thoughts  and  the  general  drift  of  their  discus- 
sions. How  did  such  a  thing  happen  ?  It  certainly  was  not  the  re- 
sult of  calculation  or  expediency.  It  cannot  be  explained,  as  it 
seems  to  us,  without  admitting  that  the  hand  of  Providence  was  in 
the  movement  from  the  ver}'  beginning.  Here  two  streams  of 
thought  flowing  from  opposite  hemispheres  of  the  earth  met,  and 
uniting  their  contents  flowed  together  towards  the  great  ocean  of 
the  future  in  this  new  world  of  America.  It  would  be  difficult  to 
believe  that  it  was  merely  a  coincidence  as  the  rationalist  would 
say.  It  had,  however,  been  preceded  by  many  prayers  going  up 
from  many  places,  and  all  this  for  many  years.  If  a  rational  ex- 
planation is  demanded,  we  would  say  that  it  is  here  in  the  antece- 
dent which  preceded  the  consequent. 


IX-AT  MERCERSBURG  FROM  1844-1853 

.^t.  41-50 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


DK.  SCHAFF'S  Address  was  delivered  on  the  2-tth  of  Octol»er, 
1844,  and  was  listened  to  by  many  of  the  ministers  of  the 
Reformed  Church  after  the  adjournment  of  the  S^ynod  at  AUentown. 
The  German  edition,  however,  was  not  pu1)lished  until  March  of 
the  following  j-ear,  and  tlie  English  translation  not  until  the  month 
of  June,  1845.  Some  unfavorable  criticisms  had  been  made  in 
regard  to  its  orthodoxy  when  it  was  first  delivered,  and  we  may 
suppose  that  additional  care  was  exercised  whilst  it  was  being  i)re- 
l)ared  for  the  press,  that  its  statements  should  be  still  more  care- 
fully guarded,  so  that  they  might  not  lead  to  misapprehension  or 
misivi)resentation.  To  forestall  anything  of  the  kind  Dr.  Nevin 
l)repared  the  length}^  Introduction  to  the  work,  which  was  much 
more  apologetic  than  polemic.  It  was,  however,  watched  in  its 
progress  through  the  press,  and  when  it  made  its  appearance  it 
was  read,  especially  in  its  English  dress,  throughout  the  Church 
with  critical  eyes,  both  friendly  and  unfriendly. 

Tiu'  preliminary  attack  on  the  entire  work  Avas  aimed  at  Dr. 
Nevin  by  Dr.  Joseph  F.  Berg,  pastor  of  the  Reformed  Church  in 
Philadelphia,  and  editor  of  the  Protectant  Banner.  He  was  a  pop- 
ulai-  preacher  and  writer,  and  one  of  the  leaders  among  the  ultra- 
Protestant  champions  of  the  times.  He  had  lectured  against  the 
errors  of  the  Chui'ch  of  Rome,  pidtlished  some  books  on  the  subject, 
and  believed  witii  many  others  of  his  day,  that  it  was  the  synagogue 
of  S:itan,  witliout  any  claims  whatever  to  be  called  a  Christian 
Chiircli.  He  was  in  such  a  state  of  mind  that  he  could  not  endure 
any  remark  that  in  the  least  favored  the '"harlot "  of  Rome,  and 
when  anything  of  the  kind  occurred,  he  became  almost  as  much 
excited  as  some  of  Cromwell's  soldiers  when  they  saw  the  sign  of 
the  cross  borne  by  the  Papal  legions  in  Flanders.  He  had  heard 
from  an  ex-monk,  whom  he  had  converted  and  sent  to  Mercersburg 
for  the  purpose  of  studying  theology,  that  Dr.  Nevin  had  taughtin 
the  Seminary  that  the  Church  of  liome  was  a  part  of  the  Church 

(227) 


228  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

of  Christ,  and  that  Christ  was  really  and  truly  present  in  the  Lord's 
Supper.  The  convert,  who  had  been  congratulating  himself  on  his 
escape  from  the  kingdom  of  darkness,  was  surprised  to  learn  that 
he  had  not  been  as  much  in  the  hands  of  Satan  as  he  had  supposed, 
and  reported  what  he  had  heard  to  his  pastor  and  patron  in  Phila- 
delphia. This  piece  of  information,  together  with  the  reading  of 
the  Inaugural  treatise,  had  its  effect  on  the  mind  of  Dr.  Berg,  and 
he  resolved  to  meet  and  crush  at  once  what  he  regarded  as  serious 
error  or  heresy  in  the  teachings  of  the  Seminary  at  Mercersburg. 
To  this  he  was  urged  on  by  his  sj-mpathizers  in  his  own  and  other 
churches,  as  well  as  by  his  position  as  one  of  the  great  anti-Catholic 
champions  of  the  day.  For  this  purpose  he  emploj'ed  the  Protestant 
Banner,  of  which  he  had  the  control,  the  organ  of  a  considerable 
amount  of  the  anti-Catholic  phreusy  of  the  time.  From  its  battle- 
ments the  first  gun  was  discharged  in  a  theological  controversy 
which  extended  over  a  number  of  years.  The  first  report  was 
sharp,  quick,  inconsiderate,  and  injudicious. 

The  charge  was  made  not  in  the  way  of  a  review  or  criticism  of 
Dr.  Nevin's  published  views,  but  rather  in  the  form  of  an  arraign- 
ment against  him  of  a  breach  of  trust  in  his  official  capacity  as 
theological  professor  in  the  Reformed  Church,  sworn  to  teach  ac-. 
cording  to  the  Heidelberg  Catechism.  The  design  of  the  impeach- 
ment seemed  to  be  to  show  that  such  a  professor  was  unworthy  of 
his  position,  as  one  who  had  abused  the  confidence  reposed  in  him 
by  the  Church.  These  charges  appearing  in  the  Protestant  Bannei- 
contrar}'  to  canon  law,  were  probabl}'  intended  as  merely  prelim- 
inary to  a  more  formal  arraignment  before  the  tribunal  of  the 
Synod,  which  was  to  meet  a  few  months  afterwards  in  October, 
r  So  Dr.  Nevin  doubtless  understood  it ;  at  any  rate  he  had  made 
his  reply  in  three  extended  articles  in  the  Messenger,  before  the 
end  of  August,  which  were  read  with  interest  and  concern  through- 
out the  Churches. 

He  styled  his  articles  "  Pseudo-Protestantism,"  in  which  he 
sought  not  merel}-  to  defend  his  own  position,  but  vigorously  to 
attack  that  other  form  of  Protestantism  itself  in  which  his  oppo- 
nent stood  and  derived  much  of  his  popularity.  In  other  words, 
whilst  the  coasts  at  home  were  defended,  the  war  was  carried  into 
Africa.  The  charge  in  general  was  that  he  was  guilty  of  a  '■'■Poman- 
izing  tendency;''^  but  that  is  something  vague,  and  is  sometimes 
applied  to  those  holding  doctrines  or  customs  in  common  with  the 
Catholic  Church, to  those  who  maintain  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity, 
as  well  as  to  those  who  observe  the  order  of  festivals  in  the  church 


ClIAP.  XXIII]  I'SEUDO-rilOTESTANTlt^M  229 

year.  Dr.  Xevin  therefore  hiul  to  inquire  wli.it  exactly  was  meant 
I  by  it.  After  sifting  the  somewhat  declamatory  indictment  he 
found  two  specific  charges,  to  which  he  felt  himself  bound  to  give 
his  attention ;  one  was  that  he  taught  that  the  Roman  Catholic 
I  Church  was  a  part  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  and  the  other  that  he 
held  a  real  spiritual  presence  of  Christ  in  the  Lord's  Supper. 

In  reply  he  maintained  that  a  distinction  Avas  to  be  made  between 
a  pure  and  a  true  church  of  Christ.  A  church  might  be  very  im- 
pure, with  error  and  corruptions  in  it,  and  ver}' little  piety,  and  yet 
be  legitimately  and  prop'erl}-  called  a  Christian  Church.  Where 
the  ministry  is  regular,  the  word  of  God  preached,  and  the  sacra- 
ments administered,  the  body  still  possesses  the  attriljutes  of  a  true 
Chuich,  and  no  one  has  a  right  to  deprive  it  of  all  Christian  char- 
acter. The  Roman  Church  possesses  all  these, — with  errors  and 
many  human  traditions,  which  are  believed  to  be  in  conflict  with  the 
spirit  of  the  Gospel;  but  it  is  no  part  of  Protestant  or  Reformed 
orthodoxy  to  maintain  that  it,  with  its  millions  of  children,  has 
lost  all  claim  to  be  called  a  Christian  Ijod}'.  This  unchurches  by  far 
the  larger  part  of  Christendom,  including  the  Greek  as  well  as  the 
Roman  Churches,  something  which  none  of  the  Reformers  attempted 
to  do.  With  them  it  was  not  an  object  to  destroy  the  Church  of 
the  previous  ages,  but  to  accomplish  its  reformation  by  the  removal 
of  old  errors  or  the  dead  accumulations  of  the  past,  and  the  renewal 
of  its  A-outh,  by  the  infusion  of  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel  into  the 
hearts  of  all  Christians. 

Such  views  of  the  Catholic  Church,  both  charitable  and  liberal, 
Avere  regarded  at  the  time  by  many  persons  as  bordering  on  serious 
heres}',  and  subjected  those  who  dared  to  utter  them  to  the  sus- 
picion of  being  in  secret  sj-mpath}'  with  the  "  man  of  sin  "  at  Rome, 
if  not  of  some  want  of  loj-alty  to  republican  institutions.  The 
General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  at  Cincinnati  had, 
after  a  long  and  warm  discussion,  decided,  with  a  considerable  de- 
gree of  unanimity,  that  Romish  baptism  was  not  valid,  and  there- 
I  fore  no  baptism  at  all.  That  seemed  to  settle  the  question  once 
and  for  ever,  and  the  Presbyterian  papers,  even  the  most  conserva- 
tive ones  among  them,  without  any  reservation  approved  of  the  de- 
cision, which  left  Roman  Christians  in  as  bad  a  condition  as  the  un- 
baptized  heathen.  It  was  fully  abreast  of  the  decisions  of  the  Pope 
himself,  when  he  3'early  anathematizes  the  Protestants  and  cuts 
them  off  from  all  communion  with  the  Church  of  Christ,  although 
admitting  at  the  same  time  that  their  baptism  is  valid  and  allirming 
that  they  are  only  his  stray  children.     A  short  time  afterwards, 


230  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.   IX 

however,  Professor  Charles  Hodge,  of  Princeton,  in  a  learned  and 
vigorous  article  in  the  Princeton  Review,  on  the  other  hand,  went 
on  to  prove  the  validity  of  Romish  baptism, in  direct  opposition  to 
the  new  utterance  of  the  Assembly.  The  arguments  were  unas- 
sailable, drawn  out  in  the  pure  diction  and  convincing  logic  of 
which  Dr.  Hodge  was  master.  His  arguments  are  derived  from 
history,  by  which  he  shows  successful!}'  that  the  validity  of  Romish 
baptism  has  all  along  been  taught  by  the  Protestant  churches,  and 
to  maintain  the  contrar}'  is  a  noveltj^,  if  not  in  itself  a  serious  error; 
and  to  defend  this  latter  is  to  assert  that  Romish  priests  are  not 
ordained  ministers,  and  that  the  Church  of  Rome  is  in  no  sense  a 
Christian  Church. 

"  To  deny  the  validity  of  the  ordinances  of  the  Catholic  Church," 
saj's  Dr.  Hodge,  "we  must  unchurch  almost  the  whole  Christian 
world;  and  Presbyterians,  instead  of  being  the  most  Catholic 
Church,  admitting  the  being  of  a  Church,  wherever  we  see  the  fruits 
of  the  Spirit,  would  become  one  of  the  narrowest  and  most  bigoted 
of  sects.  Indeed,  we  cannot  but  regard  this  sudden  denunciation 
of  Romish  baptism  as  a  momentary  outbreak  of  Poper}'  itself;  a 
disposition  to  contract  the  limits  of  the  Church,  and  to  make  that 
essential  to  its  being  and  sacraments  which  God  has  never  declared 
to  be  necessar3\" 

Dr.  Nevin  commented  at  large  on  the  utterance  from  Princeton, 
regarded  it  as  most  opportune,  and  as  a  deserved  rebuke  of  the 
"madness  of  the  Assembly,"  under  the  circumstances.  He  then 
proceeds  to  analj'ze  the  spirit  from  which  it  proceeded  in  his  usual 
vigorous  style. 

"  It  is  not  to  be  disguised  that  the  whole  interest  of  Protestant- 
ism itself  at  the  present  time  is  brought  into  great  danger  by  a  false 
tendenc}',  which  has  sprung  up  by  perversion  out  of  the  system 
itself,  and  now  threatens  to  carry  all  hopelessly  in  its  new  direction. 
This  tendency'  in  its  relation  to  Romanism  is  simply  negative,  re- 
volutionary and  destructive.  It  sees  in  the  Roman  Church  no  good 
whatever,  but  absolute  evil  only.  The  whole  life  of  the  Reforma- 
tion for  it  holds  not  in  an}-  direct  historical  continuation  with  the 
previous  state  of  the  Church,  but  only  as  an  abrupt  breach  with 
this,  involving  a  new  order  of  existence  altogether.  Hence  follows 
a  want  of  all  right  respect  for  history ;  and  with  it  the  loss  of  every 
proper  conception  of  the  Church,  as  an  organic  continuous  develop- 
ment of  the -life  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  general  is  made  to  sink  below 
the  claims  of  the  individual  and  particular.  With  this  again  is 
found  to  prevail  a  shallow  rationalistic  turn  of  mind,  to  which  all 


Chap.  XXIIIJ  pseudo-protestantism  231 

that  is  deep  in  tlie  positive  life  of  religion  becomes  oftensive  or 
suspicious,  as  savoring  of  mysticism.  In  this  way  the  tendency 
ma}^  run  into  neology  or  infidelity,  but  this  is  b}-  no  means  neces- 
sary. Where  circumstances  require,  it  can  hold  as  well  in  connec- 
tion with  the  most  orthodox  forms  of  belief.  The  false  spirit,  how- 
ever, that  actuates  this  kind  of  opposition  to  Romanism  must  be 
more  or  less  evident  to  everj-  serious  mind.  It  is  mighty  to  pull 
down  in  its  own  waj',  but  has  no  power  to  build  up,  or  even  to  pre- 
serve what  is  alread}"  built.  It  is  ready  to  make  common  cause 
with  almost  any  interest,  no  matter  how  bad  it  ma}-  V)e  theologicalh', 
\if  it  only  rage  against  the  papal  Church.  All  is  wrong  for  it  and 
onl^'  wrong  on  the  side  of  poi)ery,  and  all  is  right  for  it  ou  its  own 
side.  Hence  it  is  loveless,  harsh — a  new  incarnation  in  fact  of  the 
papac}^  itself.  It  out-popes  the  Pope  himself,  in  this  respect.  And 
this  is  called  contending  manfully  for  the  truth  against  the  man  of 
sin.  Such  is  the  character  of  Pseudo-Protestantism  when  it  comes 
to  anything  like  a  full  development  of  its  proper  life. 

"  Protestantism  doubtless  includes  a  negative  distinctional  force 
towards  the  errors  of  Rome.  But  it  does  not  stand  in  any  such 
force,  as  such.  It  becomes  negative  only  by  being  in  the  first 
place  positive,  the  power  of  a  new  life,  struggling  to  surmount  all 
that  would  hinder  it  in  its  free  growth.  So  it  was  with  Luther. 
The  fanatics  and  infidels  of  his  day  occupied  a  wholly  different 
position.  They  were  negative  and  negative  only.  But  Luther  was 
first  positive,  and  then,  only,  as  the  consequence  of  this,  negative. 
And  the  true  spirit  of  Protestantism  remains  the  same  to  this  day. 
So  at  the  present  time,  bevond  all  doubt,  one  of  the  most  elfective 
allies,  which  Romanism  finds  among  us,  is  precisely'  this  form  of 
opposition  to  its  power.  One  might  almost  suspect  some  of  our 
noisiest  ranters  against  Rome  to  be  themselves  paid  emissaries  of 
the  Pope.  By  doing  all  that  in  them  lies  to  turn  Protestantism 
into  the  form  of  mere  negation  and  contradiction,  they  caricature 
its  true  life, and  bring  into  peril  all  that  constitutes  its  tone,  strength 
and  glory. 

"  But  is  not  Popery  Antichrist,  the  Man  of  Sin,  and  so  on,"  Dr. 
Nevin  asks.  ''If  this  is  allowed,"  he  then  says,  "very  properlj-  it 
does  not  follow  that  the  Roman  Church  is  Avithout  Christianit}-. 
Antichrist  is  always  represented  as  revealing  himself  in  the  Church. 
He  began  to  manifest  himself  even  in  the  days  of  the  Apostles. 
He  is  widely  active  also  in  the  Protestant  Church  as  well  as  in  the 
Church  of  Rome.  Let  the  Papac}'  be  counted  as  bad  as  any  one 
may  choose  to  make  it,  still  it  is  not  as  such  the  Roman  Catholic 


232  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

Church.  There  is  a  clear  distinction  to  be  made  between  Poperj^ 
and  the  Chnrch  of  which  Rome  is  the  aclaiowledged  centre  ;  a  dis- 
tinction admitted  by  every  one  who  is  at  all  authorized,  in  point  of 
historical  knowledge,  to  have  any  opinion  in  the  case.  The  Cath- 
olic Church  stood  before  the  Reformation  under  the  yoke  of  Popery ; 
the  same  Church  now  stands,  mainly  at  least,  Reformed  and  free, 
under  the  Protestant  banner.  To  the  Reformation,  in  the  language 
of  another,  we  owe  the  high  privilege  of  being  Catholic,  and  yet 
not  Roman — 'One  side  of  the  relation  between  the  two  Churches 
is,'  sa3-s  Professor  Hengstenberg,  'that  was  before,  in  some  mea- 
sure, cast  into  the  shade,  is  now  brought  into  clearer  light  by  the 
pressure  of  modern  rationalism.  The  great  controversy  with  infi- 
delity, belonging  to  both  in  common,  requires  that  attention  should 
always  be  fixed,  from  either  side  on  points  of  agreement,  as  well  as 
on  points  of  difference.'  Not  to  do  this  noio,  is  a  far  more  serious 
fault  than  ever  before.  To  fail  in  recognizing  Christ  where  He  is 
present,  is  aJways  dangerous,  but  most  especially  where  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  times  make  this  so  eas}',  that  one  must  violently 
close  his  ej'es  not  to  see  this  fact." 

Having  disposed  of  the  first  charge  of  a  Romanizing  tendency, 
preferred  b}'  his  friend  Dr.  Berg,  Dr.  Nevin  then  proceeds  in  repl}' 
to  the  second,  and  sums  up  his  defense  by  maintaining  the  following 
thesis  :  "  That  it  forms  no  part  of  the  orthodoxy  of  the  Reformed 
.Church  to  deu^-  the  spiritual  real  presence  of  Christ  in  the  Lord's 
Supper ;  but  on  the  contrary,  to  do  so  is  a  serious  departure  from 
the  true  and  proper  faith  of  the  Church." 

The  reply  to  this  part  of  the  accusation  was  much  more  a  defense 
of  what  was  considered  the  Reformed  or  Calvinistic  view  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,  over  against  prevalent  views  of  the  subject,  than 
anything  like  a  personal  defense  of  the  writer  himself.  Primarilj", 
the  question  w^as  whether  the  doctrine  of  the  real  presence  of  Christ 
in  the  Eucharist  entered  into  the  creed  of  the  Reformed  Church; 
but  naturally  the  subject  required  that  its  absolute  truth,  under  a 
theological  view,  should  also  be  considered.  Respect  had  to  be  had 
to  its  logical  ground  and  constitution  throughout  in  the  system. 
There  the  personal  character  of  the  controA^ers}^  was  lost  sight  of 
in  the  discussion  of  one  of  the  profoundest  questions  in  theology', 
and  the  opponent.  Dr.  Berg,  was  left  in  the  background.  Thus  the 
rejoinder  became  a  learned  article,  which  would  have  strengthened 
and  dignified  the  pages  of  a  theological  quarterly. 

"The  doctrine  in  question,"  writes  Dr.  Nevin  nearl}'  one-half  of 
a  century  ago,  "is  one  of  vast  importance.     There  can  be  no  surer 


Chap.  XXIII]  psevdo-protestantism  233 

evidence  of  tlie  wunt  of  theological  earnestness  than  the  style  in 
■which  some  allow  themselves  to  look  down  upon  the  whole  sacra- 
mental controversy-  as  the  fruit  of  ignorance  and  superstition,  the 
mournful  folh'  of  a  by-gone  age.  Whether  men  see  it  or  not,  that 
controversy  enters  into  the  ver}'  core  of  Christianit}-.  It  is  not 
owing  so  much  to  our  piet}',  or  to  the  great  extent  of  our  knowl- 
edge, most  assuredly,  that  we  have  come  for  the  most  part  to  have 
so  little  trouble  about  it,  as  compared  with  the  Church  of  the  six- 
teenth century.  It  is  the  result  rather  of  a  shallow  rationalistic 
tendency,  wliich  has  come  to  prevail  too  generally  in  our  religious 
thinking.  It  betra3's  the  most  miserable  superficiality  both  of  heart 
and  mind,  to  suppose  that  either  Luther  or  Calvin  was  here  influ- 
enced by  an  unfree  prejudice,  carried  over  blindly  from  the  dark- 
ness of  popery,  and  standing  in  no  inward  connection  with  their 
faith  in  other  respects.  Both  were  spiritually  bound  hy  a  force 
which  the}'  had  no  power  to  break.  The  inmost  life  of  religion 
was  felt  to  be  staked  on  the  question.  And  this  feeling  was  sound 
and  true.  The  sacramental  question  does  involve  the  main  life  of 
religion  itself. 

"  For  what  is  religion  ?  Not  a  creed  nor  a  well-ordered  life.  Not 
simpl}'  pious  sentiments  and  affections.  All  these  belong  to  it;  but 
in  the  form  of  Christianity  as  distinguishei'  from  every  lower  form 
of  religion,  it  is  more  than  all  this.  It  stands  in  a  living  union 
with  the  person  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  In  this  view,  it  is  a  new 
order  of  life  by  w^hich  the  man  is  apprehended  in  the  very  centre  of 
his  person,  and  made  the  subject  of  a  process  that  transforms  his 
whole  nature  into  a  new  type.  This  process  commences  Avith 
regeneration  and  terminates  in  the  resurrection  at  the  last  daj*, 
renovating  the  entire  man,  body  as  well  as  soul.  It  is  a  new  and 
higher  form  of  humanity  that  is  thus  brought  to  prevail  in  the 
believer,  o\er  the  fallen  and  corrupt  nature  he  has  inherited  from 
Adam.  And  as  such  it  flows  over  to  his  person  only  from  Christ, 
who  is  tlie  second  Adam,  and  in  this  respect  stands  in  the  same  re- 
hition  to  our  race  precisely  as  the  first.  The  new  creation  begins 
wliolly  in  His  person.  In  Ilim  the  Word  became  Flesh,  incorporated 
itself  with  humanity  that  it  might  become  the  life  of  men;  and  this 
end  is  now  secured  only  as  the  humanity  thus  exalted  in  Christ — 
not  for  Himself  but  for  our  race — is  can*ied  OA'er  by  the  H0I3'  Ghost 
into  the  i)ersons  of  those  who  are  united  to  Him  by  faith.  The 
union  of  the  believer  with  Christ  then  is  not  a  legal  union  simply; 
nor  is  it  simply  a  moral  union,  holding  in  intimate  and  free  corres- 
pondence of  thought  and  aftection.  It  is  ratlier  a  union  that  in- 
15 


234  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1814-1853  [DiV.  IX 

volves  oneness  of  nature,  a  participation  on  the  side  of  believers  in 
the  life  of  Christ  substantially  considered.  But  this  life  is  at  the 
same  time  Jiimtan  life,  and  if  communicated  at  all,  it  must  be  com- 
municated in  this  form.  The  mystical  union  of  believers  with 
Christ  then  includes  a  participation,  not  simply  in  His  spirit,  but 
also  in  His  body;  since  the  idea  of  humanity,  that  it  is  spirit  only, 
and  not  body  at  the  same  time,  must  be  considered  a  sheer  abstrac- 
tion, a  contradiction  in  fact  that  overthrows  itself.  Our  union  with 
Christ  inserts  us  into  His  humanit}^  as  a  whole;  not  merely  into  His 
spirit  as  such  and  not  merely  into  His  body  as  such;  but  into  His 
person  as  the  living  union  of  both. 

"The  modus  of  this  union  we  cannot  be  expected  of  course  to 
understand  or  explain.  It  is  mA^stical  and  in  its  nature  incompre- 
hensible. But  do  we  understand  any  better  the  modus  of  our  par- 
ticipation in  the  proper  humanity  of  Adam?  To  sa^-  that  it  is  by 
means  of  our  descent  from  Him  inthe  way  of  natural  birth  explains 
nothing.  That, is  simply  the  form  in  which  the  fact  holds;  as  in 
the  other  case  it  holds  in  the  form  of  our  new  birth  by  the  Holy 
Ghost.  But  the  fact  is  no  more  intelligible  in  the  one  case  than  in 
the  other. 

"  Of'  the  fact,  however,  we  ought  not  to  entertain  any  doubt,  as 
it  lies  at  the  very  ground  of  our  salvation.  Humanity  itself  must 
first  be  raised  into  union  with  God,  and  we  can  be  saved  only  as 
we  become  incorporated  with  it  by  grace  in  this  form.  Christ  ac- 
cordingly appeared  in  the  world,  not  simply  that  He  might  be  the 
occasion  of  life  to  men,  but  as  the  principle  and  source  of  life  in 
the  fullest  sense.  He  became  flesh,  not  simply  as  a  helper,  but  that 
He  might  gather  us  up  in  Himself  by  inward  union  with  His  na- 
tui-e,and  so  redeem  us  from  all  death  as  well  as  from  all  sin.  He  is 
the  resurrection  and  the  life.  We  can  have  no  life  then,  except  as 
we  are  made  to  partake  substantially,  not  in  the  doctrine,  not  in 
the  promise,  not  in  His  merits  simply,  but  in  His  very  life  itself 
under  its  human  form,  so  as  to  be  found  in  the  end  to  be  'bone  of 
His  bone  and  flesh  of  His  flesh.' 

"This  view  of  the  union  between  Christ  and  believers  has  entered 
deeply  into  the  consciousness  of  the  Church  in  all  ages,  in  propor- 
tion precisely  to  the  measure  of  its  religious  earnestness;  and  it 
will  continue  to  be  so  to  the  end  of  time.  There  can  be  no  deep 
Christianity'  without  it.  Where  it  is  denied  it  will  be  found  in- 
A-ariably,  on  close  inquiiy,  that  a  false  rationalistic  element  has 
crept  in  and  begun  to  corrupt  the  truth  at  the  expense  of  its  living 
power.     Such  a  spirit  will  know  of  nothing  but  a  simply  moral  con- 


ClIAP.  XXTTT]  PSEUDO-PROTESTANTISM  235 

nection,  the  same  in  kind  with  the  relation  of  a  pious  Jew  to  Moses, 
his  venerated  lawgiver.  All  be3'ond  this  is  set  down  at  once  for 
nnintolligil)le  mi/sficism.  But  then  is  not  the  Incarnation  of  the 
everlasting  AVord  mysticism  in  the  same  sense  and  to  the  same  ex- 
tent? Both  facts,  the  Incarnation  of  Christ  and  the  insertion  of 
believers  into  the  new  form  of  humanity  thus  constituted  in  Ilis 
person,  stand  in  the  same  relation  to  reason.  Properly  speaking, 
we  say  that  lioth  facts  are  at  bottom  but  one  and  the  same  fact. 
The  idea  of  the  Incarnation  of  the  Word  that  was  to  be  restricted 
in  its  force  to  the  separate  })erson  of  a  single  man,  to  be  known 
afterwards  as  an  isolated  miracle  in  the  general  stream  of  human 
history,  is  utterl}-  unbiblical,  and  must  necessarily  evaporate  into 
a  Gnostic  phantom  in  the  end.  The  Incarnation  was  for  the  race; 
and  only  as  we  embrace  it  in  this  view  as  a  permanent  ftict  in  the 
histor}'  of  humanity,  b^-  which  the  whole  life  of  the  Word  made 
flesh  is  still  continued  and  perpetuated  in  the  Church  to  the  end  of 
the  world,  can  the  doctrine'be  said  to  have  any  lodgement  in  our 
hearts.  Men  deceive  themselves,  I  repeat  it,  when  they  pretend  to 
give  full  credit  to  this  central  fundamental  fact  of  Christianity  as 
exhibited  in  the  Head  of  the  Church,  and  yet  raise  the  cry  of  mj's- 
ticism  when  they  hear  of  an  extension  of  the  power  of  this  fact  to 
the  bod^',  for  which  the  Head  may  be  said  to  exist." 

The  writer  then  goes  on  to  say,  that  the  subject  of  the  union 
between  Christ  and  believers,  as  the  core  and  marrow  of  all  true 
divinity,  counects  itself  vitally  with  the  sacramental  question.  The  ' 
one  determines  the  other  by  a  necessary  sequence.  The  sacraments  y 
are  I'elated  to  the  inmost  idea  of  the  Christian  life.  Our  view  of 
them,  therefore,  will  alwa3's  correspond  with  the  view  we  take  of 
the  natuiv  of  tliis  life.  If  the  latter  is  low  and  rationalistic,  the 
former  will  possess  the  same  general  rationalistic  character.  Xo 
one  believing  that  the  life  of  Christ  is  also  the  life  of  the  believer 
can  believe  that  the  sacraments  are  mere  signs  by  which  the  Chnrch 
is  simply  reminded  of  an  ahftenf  SaA'iour.  If  the  Incarnation  of 
the  Divine  AVord  is  a  permanent  fact,  and  no  mere  transient  phan- 
tasm in  tlie  history  of  humanitv,  the  power  of  a  new  human  life, 
developing  itself  in  humanity  organically  in  the  Church  from  age 
to  age,  then  the  sense  of  a  real,  present,  human  Christ  in  these 
ordinances  must  come  to  prevail  at  the  same  time,  as  its  necessary 
conseipience. 

"Such  a  connection  as  this  has  pervnded  the  Cliristi:in  ("liurch, 
more  or  less,  in  all  ages,  but  never  more  so  than  during  the  i)eriod 
of  the  Keformation.     It  was  then  a  vital  question   upon  which  all 


236  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1841-1853  [DiV.  IX 

others  seemed  to  turn,  and  it  led  to  more  earnest  discussion  than 
an}'  other  among  the  Reformers.  The}-  rejected  transubstantiation 
as  an  explanation  of  the  great  m3'ster3'.  This  presented  it  in  the 
light  of  a  magical  operation,  according  to  which  the  bread  and 
wine,  while  they  retain  their  common  sensible  properties,  are  ac- 
tually transmuted,  so  far  as  their  essence  is  concerned,  into  the 
very  bod}'  and  blood  of  Christ.  But  whilst  the  intelligence  as  well 
as  the  Christian  consciousness  of  the  Reformers  to  a  man  rejected 
snch  a  theory-  as  this,  which  was  simply  human,  they  all  clung  to 
the  sublime  mystery  with  a  tenacity  which  amidst  the  wide-spread 
unbelief  and  rationalism  of  the  age  was  something  remarkable. 
Luther,  who,  in  this  matter,  exhibited  a  heroic  faith,  no  matter 
whether  in  conflict  with  his  natural  understanding  or  not,  here  oc- 
cupied the  right  wing  in  this  long  controvers}-,  holding  what  has 
been,  perhaps  improperly',  called  the  theory  of  consubstantiation 
or  impanation,  attributed  to  his  followers." 

The  hero-Reformer  of  Switzerland,  Uiric  Zwingli,  the  Apostle  of 
humanism  as  well  as  of  the  new  foith,  on  the  other  hand,  occupied 
the  left  lining  of  the  great  sacramentarian  controversy.  The  ten- 
dency as  a  reactionary  force  was  intense,  sufficient  to  carry  along 
with  it  ordinary  minds,  not  well  ballasted,  or  rooted  and  grounded 
in  the  faith ;  but  it  had  its  triumphs  and  votaries  in  the  course  of 
time  only  among  the  Arminians  of  Holland  and  subsequently 
among  the  heartless  rationalists  of  Germany.  Zwingli,  it  is  true, 
was  charged  with  having  bowed  to  the  new  Baal  that  was  set  up  to 
separate  Christ  from  his  own  appointments;  but  it  was  done  with 
great  injustice  at  the  time  of  the  Reformation,  and  in  modern  times 
also  by  some  respectable  writers,  who  regard  him  as  the  father  of 
rationalistic  views  of  the  Eucharist  which  he  would  have  repudiated 
in  his  day.  It  cannot  be  said  truthfully  that  he,  with  all  his  concern 
to  rescue  the  new  faith  from  what  he  believed  to  be  the  dangerous 
mysticism  of  Luther's  doctrine,  discarded  the  real  or  true  mystical 
union  of  Christ  and  believers  either  from  the  Christian  sj'stem 
itself,  or  from  the  Lord's  Supper,  in  some  sense  its  embodiment. 
"We  b}'  no  means,"  he  says,  "hold  that  Christ  is  absent  from  the 
Lord's  Supper.  His  flesh  and  blood  are  the  aliment  of  life.  Unless 
our  souls  are  fed  with  this  food,  they  have  no  life."  And  he  goes 
on  to  affirm:  "Truly,  but  in  a  peculiar  way,  that  is,  sacramentall}', 
we  receive  the  bod}'  of  Christ.  For  his  flesh  is  in  us,  and  we  in 
Him,  and  quickens  us  as  members  to  the  Head."  Much  more  might 
l)e  quoted  of  like  tenor  to  show  that  Zwingli  did  not  consider  the 
consecrated    Ijread    and    wine    as    mere    naked    signs   or   symbols. 


Chap.  XXIII]  pseudo-protestantism  237 

Dr.  Ebnird  in  his  "Do2:ma  des  Ileiliiicn  AbLMidmahls  uud  seine 
Gesehichte  "  lias  fully  vindicated  him  from  the  impntiition  of  such 
a  shallow,  rationalistic  view  of  the  inmost  sanctuar}-  of  the  Chris- 
tian faith.  The  same  truly  learned  work  will  show  that  the  esti- 
mate given  of  him  as  a  fanatical  radical  b}'  such  historians  as 
Fronde,  without  any  correct  knowledge  of  historical  facts,  is  sim- 
p\y  crude  and  imaginary.  Still  it  must  be  admitted  that  Zwingli,\ 
in  his  zeal  to  eliminate  old  superstitions,  did  not  alwaA^s  do  himself] 
justice  in  his  statements  of  the  sacramental  mystery.  He  died  a 
martyr  on  the  field  of  battle  Avhilst  he  was  still  comparatively 
young.  Had  he  lived  to  be  as  old  as  the  other  Reformers,  his  eu- 
chai'istic  views,  no  doubt,  would  have  grown  in  intensity,  and  the 
Church  been  still  further  edified  b^-  riper  fruit  from  his  command- 
ing intellect. 

By  the  force  of  circumstances  and  the  progress  or  development 
of  the  Reformation  itself,  Calvin  on  the  Reformed  side  and  Mehtnch- 
thon  on  the  Lutheran  were  brought  to  occupy  a  central  position 
in  the  theological  arm}-,  called  out  to  defend  the  true  eucharistie 
faith.  After  the  two  wings  had  spent  their  strength  and  found 
themselves  fighting  each  other  instead  of  the  common  enemy  in  an 
antagonism,  which  should  have  been  only  an  antithesis,  they  gave 
up  the  struggle  for  the  time  being.  During  a  sort  of  a  lull  in  the 
conllict  the  two  distinguished  f  eologians,  just  mentioned,  came 
forth  from  the  centre  and  for  a  time  commanded  the  field.  Calvin 
could  not  be  satisfied  with  Zwingli's  view  of  the  Lord's  Supper, 
and  the  same  was  true  of  Melanchthon  in  regard  to  what  was 
claimed  to  be  the  distinctive  Lutheran  view.  Thej^  both  allowed 
themselves  to  advance  to  a  higher  stand-point  from  which  the  old 
antagonism  might  be  happily  reconciled.  Their  doctrines  on  the 
Lord's  Supper  were  virtually-  the  same,  "with  onlj'  a  slight  coloring 
derived  from  the  school  or  system  in  which  each  one  stood. 

After  the  death  of  Zwingli,  Calvin  became  the  most  distinguished 
representative  of  the  lleformed  faith,  and  his  vieAv  of  the  Lord's  ./ 
Supper,  as  the  result  of  a  normal  growth,  became  the  doctrine  of 
the  Reformed  Church.  With  numerous  quotations  from  his  Insti- 
tutes, Dr.  Xevin  accordingly  shows  that  his  sacramental  views,  for 
whicli  he  had  been  charged  by  his  opponent  with  serious  error, 
heresy,  ;ind  a  Romanizing  tendency,  were  simpl3-  those  of  Calvin 
himself  With  Calvin  only  through  the  medium  of  faith  could  any 
one  partake  of  the  Saviour's  person,  whilst  partaking  of  His  holy 
ordinance.  Still,  however,  the  participation  was  viewed  as  real, 
and  as  effected  also   by  a  force  belonging  to  the  sacrament  itself, 


238  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

which,  of  course,  would  be  impossible  or  magical,  unless  ns  the 
sacrament  is  regarded  as  made  up  of  two  things,  the  inward  no 
less  than  the  outward.  The  bond  uniting  the  visible  sign  with  the 
invisible  grace  was  not  considered  to  be  simply  a  mental  act  on 
the  part  of  the  worshipper,  but  a  true  objective  connection  of  the 
one  with  the  other;  onl}-  this  sacramental  relation,  it  was  held, 
could  not  itself  exist  except  for  the  apprehension  of  faith.  As 
divine  truth  is  not  created  by  any  state  of  the  soul  itself,  so  the 
real  presence  of  Christ  in  the  Supper  was  regarded  as  a  fact  mys- 
teriously involved  in  the  nature  of  the  Sacrament  itself,  and  not 
something  brought  into  it  by  faith  or  any  force  of  its  own,  apart 
from  the  ordinance  viewed  in  its  own  particular  form. 

Calvin  has  been  strangely  charged  with  teaching  that  the  soifl  of 
the  believer  feeds  on  the  literal  mortal  body  and  blood  of  Christ  in 
the  Eucharist,  as  these  existed  before  his  death  and  resurrection, 
as  if  an  immaterial  Spirit  could  literally-  eat  material  flesh,  a  greater 
absurdity  than  consubstantiation  itself.  Of  course  he  never  taught 
anything  of  the  kind,  and  probablj^  no  one  else  did. 

"He  does  indeed  speak  of  the  Jlesh  of  Christ  as  having  a  vivific 
virtue,  and  insists  of  course  upon  a  spiritual  manducation  in  the 
case  as  distinguished  from  such  as  is  simply  corporeal.  It  may  be 
admitted  too  that  his  psvcholog3^  is  not  altogether  satisfactory.  But 
it  is  perfectly  plain  that  by  the  life-giving  flesh  of  the  Saviour,  he 
always  means  His  glorifled  humanity;  and  that  he  considers  this 
A'ivific  virtue  for  the  race  as  being  generic  in  its  nature,  and  the 
fountain  thus  of  a  new  form  of  human  nature.  The  Word,  the  true 
and  proper  life  of  the  world,  became  flesh  in  Christ,  that  is,  took 
humanit}^  into  union  with  itself,  that  our  nature  thus  raised  and 
quickened  might  be  carried  over  afterwards  into  the  persons  of  His 
people,  transforming  them  into  his  own  image,  and  making  them 
meet  for  heaven.  This  requires  of  course  an  actual  participation 
in  His  life.  His  flesh  and  His  blood;  that  is,  in  His  real  humanity, 
which  thus  becomes  the  root  and  ground  of  all  true  life  for  the  race. 
The  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  is,  therefore,  especially  in- 
tended to  advance  this  object.  It  is  the  communion  of  the  body 
and  blood  of  Christ.  In  partaking  of  the  elements  with  proper 
faith  we  are  l)rought  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost  into  actual 
communication  with  His  person,  and  made  partakers  of  His  full 
humanity  as  the  true  life  for  our  Mien  natures.  Thus  according 
to  Calvin,  we  are  not  only  reminded  of  Christ,  not  made  to  partake 
merel,y  of  His  spirit  bv  the  Saci-ament,  but  notwithstanding  the 
distance  that  separates  Him  from  us,  as  He  is  in  heaven  and  we  on 


Chap.  XXIII]  pseudo -protestantism  239 

earth,  it  serves  to  insert  us  more  and  more  into  Tlis  i)erson,  and  to 
make  us  one  with  Ilim  in  the  very  substance  of  His  life.'' 

The  position  taken  b}*  Dr.  Nevin  that  Calvin's  view  of  the  Lord's 
Supper  was  the  doctrine  of  the  Keformed  Church  was  disputed  at 
the  time.  This  led  to  the  publication  of  the  'J^^I^vaticaJJP^escrrKT^'^nTr' 
184G,  and  subsequentlN'  to  the  controversy  with  Dr.  Charles  Hodge, 
Professor  in  Princeton  Theological  Seminary  in  1848,  of  which  we 
shall  speak  more  fullj^  hereafter.  Both  had  their  root  and  origin 
in  the  articles  we  are  here  considering,  written  during  the  hot 
weather  of  August,  1845. 

After  a  full  and  exhaustive  defense  of  himself  against  the  two 
charges  of  serious  error  preferred  against  him  as  a  professor  of 
theology.  Dr.  Xevin  Avent  on  to  assault  the  castle  from  which  the 
weapons  were  hurled  against  him,  and  he  did  it  Avitli  no  less  vigor 
than  when  he  stood  merely  on  the  defensive.  His  analysis  of  the 
spirit  of  a  negative  and  false  Protestantism  is  thorough,  keen,  and 
incisive;  his  description  of  its  abnormal  activity  graphic,  and  his 
polemics  generall}-  so  clear  and  forcible,  that  most  persons  of  any 
degree  of  sensitiveness  could  tell  whether  any  part  of  the  language 
applied  to  their  superficial  system  or  not. 

j  ''This  i)articular  case,  just  considered,"  he  says,  "  is  an  exampli- 
fication  of  the  spirit  of  a  system,  against  which  there  is  special 
need  that  the  Church  should  be  warned  at  this  time.  Without  an}- 
inward  hold  on  the  life  principles  of  the  Reformation,  it  claims  to 
be  its  most  true  and  legitimate  offspring  on  the  ground  simply  of 
its  blind  negational  zeal  against  all  that  belongs  to  Rome.  Like 
every  other  movement  of  the  same  sort,  whose  essence  holds  in 
mere  contradiction  and  destruction,  it  is  fanatical,  intolerant  and 
unfree.  Being  of  this  character,  as  it  includes  no  light,  so  it  car- 
ries with  it  no  jjower;  that  is,  no  power  to  do  good,  though  it  is 
sufhcient  for  much  evil.  It  wrongs  the  cause  it  affects  to  serve, 
and  contributes  most  effectually  in  the  end  to  build  up  the  interest 
it  seeks  to  i)ull  down.  There  is  no  spirit  whose  general  })revalence 
in  the  Church  needs  more  to  be  deprecated.  The  salvation  of 
Protestantism  depends  on  its  being  preserved  from  the  mastery  of 
this  false  i)ower.  Its  full  triumph  would  seal  the  late  of  the  Ref- 
ormation, and  make  the  whole  work  a  failure. 

"At  the  same  time  it  is  becoming  continually  more  clear  that 
this  false  Protestantism  is  gaining  ground  in  the  Church,  and  that 
Romanism  is  waxing  more  rabid  and  fanatical  of  late  in  its  bearing 
towards  the  Evangelical  Church  than  has  been  the  case  since  the 
period  immediately  following  the  Reformation,     It  is  needless  to 


240  AT    MERCEllSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

multiply  specifications  of  the  various  forms  of  the  same  general 
evil  which  ma^-  be  seen  to  be  actively'  at  work  in  various  directions. 
Low  Aiews  of  the  Church  ;  low  views  of  the  sacraments  ;  small 
account  of  the  living  i^rson  of  Christ  compared  with  Christian 
doctrine ;  a  disposition  to  undervalue  all  historj-  as  an  objective 
authority  in  any  view ;  a  tendency  to  resolve  all  religion  into  a 
mere  naked  spiritualism,  without  regard  to  the  claims  of  the  bod}^; 
a  blind  misconception  of  the  principle  of  authoritj^ ;  all  this  and 
things  of  the  same  sort,  we  meet  with  plentifully. 

"  It  is  truly  surprising,  when  one  is  brought  to  contrast  the  Pres- 
ent with  the  Past  in  an  intelligent  form,  to  find  at  how  many  points 
and  to  what  a  material  extent  much  that  now  claims  to  be  Protest- 
ant truth  has  come  to  difler  from  the  Protestantism  of  the  sixteenth 
centur3\  In  the  last  General  Assembly,  already-  referred  to,  the 
argument  against  Romish  Baptism  was  conducted,  to  a  consider- 
able extent,  on  a  view  of  the  nature  of  the  Church,  which  iuA'olved 
a  similar  sacrifice  of  the  true  Reformed  theory  in  favor  of  the  low- 
est independenc}^  The  necessity  of  an  organic  historical  connec- 
tion of  the  Christianity  of  our  age  with  the  Christianity  uf  all  pre- 
ceding ages,  back  to  the  times  of  the  Apostles,  seemed  h\  some 
not  to  be  apprehended  at  all.  This  was  carried  so  far  even  as  the 
supposition,  that  the  connection  might  be  wholly  interrupted — run 
under  ground,  as  it  was  said — for  entire  centuries ;  leaving  the 
Church  in  this  way  to  take  a  new  start  as  in  the  beginning  from 
the  Bible,  and  a  self-sprung  private  piety.  The  Church  is  thus 
openly  sunk  to  the  conception  of  a  mere  aggregation  of  individuals  ; 
and  is  represented  to  be  something  which  may  be  wholly  originated 
at  any  time  de  7iovo,  if  need  be,  by  the  activity  of  individual  Chris- 
tianity, holding  no  connection  whatever  with  its  previous  life.  In 
this  countr3-  particularly,  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that  the  Congrega- 
tional element,  brought  in  through  New  England,  has  materially 
modified  the  current  views  of  theology  and  the  Church  in  every 
section  of  the  Reformed  communion,  to  say  nothing  of  the  Lu- 
theran, in  the  case  of  which  the  metamorphosis  is  more  noticeable 
still.  The  system  of  thought  may  be  at  home  in  Puritan  New  Eng- 
land, but  it  is  not  sound  Presb3'terianism. 

"  The  spirit  against  which  these  articles  are  particularl}-  directed, 
while  it  is  foreign  to  the  true  life  of  Protestantism  in  ever^'  form, 
must  be  felt  b^^  all  who  are  acquainted  with  the  case  to  be  most 
especially  so  to  the  true  life  of  tlie  German  Beformed  Church. 
Even  if  the  whole  Presbyterian  body  and  our  brethren  of  the  Low 
Dutch  communion   should   unfortunately^  be  overpowered  In*  the 


ClIAP.  XXIII]  PSEUDO-PROTESTANTISM  241 

wronu  tendency,  which  I  trust,  however,  will  never  he  the  case,  it 
would  onl^-  be  the  more  incumbent  on  our  own  denomination, 
although  one  of  the  least  among  the  tribes  of  Israel,  to  stnnd  fast 
bv  the  old  landmarks  and  resolutelv  reject  every  influence,  whether 
iVoui  without  or  from  within,  that  may  tend  to  overthrow  our 
denominational  identity,  as  the  most  direct  and  legitimate  succes- 
sion of  the  Reformed  Church  in  these  United  States." 

Dr.  Nevin  wrote  these  articles  with  great  dignity  and  earnestness 
throughout,  losiug  sight  in  a  great  measure  of  his  assailant  in  the 
discussion  of  what  he  regarded  as  high  and  important  principles. 
In  conclusion,  confident  in  the  position  that  he  occupied,  he  main- 
tained that  the  charge  of  heresy  or  serious  error  lay  not  so  mucli 
at  his  own  door  as  at  that  of  liis  oi)ponent,  Dr.  Berg.  The  attack, 
tnkcn  in  its  connections,  had  the  form  of  a  loud,  solemn  alarm,  the 
object  of  which  was  to  create  the  impression  in  the  Church,  that  he 
had  betrayed  his  ofllcial  position  as  a  theological  professor  by  in- 
troducing "strange  doctrines  and  Bom  a  ni  zing  errors,"  which  lie  re- 
garded as  an  "ecclesiastical  libel."  We  have  here  given  the  drift 
of  the  articles  in  somewhat  extended  quotations,  because,  as  facts 
of  history-,  they  are  of  general  interest  at  the  present  day,  and  be- 
cause the}^  will  serve  to  prepare  the  mind  of  the  reader  for  an  in- 
telligent understanding  of  much  that  is  to  follow  in  these  pages 
hereafter. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

ONE  week  after  the  last  of  the  articles  on  Pseuclo-Protestautism 
appeared  in  the  Weekly  Messenger,  the  Classis  of  Philadel- 
phia held  its  semi-annual  meeting,  at  which  a  committee,  with  Dr. 
Berg  as  chairman,  was  appointed  to  examine  the  Principle'  of  Prot- 
estantism, and  to  give  its  judgment  of  its  character.  The  report 
consisted  of  five  resolutions,  which  were  supposed  to  constitute  a 
short  confession  of  the  faith  of  the  Classis,  on  what  it  regarded  as 
points  in  dispute.  The  Committee  affirmed  that  the  Scriptures 
were  the  only  rule  of  faith  and  practice,  and  that  the  Bible  was 
not  to  be  undervalued  under  an}'  circumstances  in  favor  of  human 
addition  or  tradition ;  that  faith  in  Christ  is  the  life-giving  prin- 
ciple of  Christianity,  and  that  under  no  circumstances  may  the 
eflScacy  of  the  sacraments  be  represented  as  superior  to  that  of 
faith  ;  that  the  sentiment  that  the  sacraments  do  not  depend  for 
their  efflcac}'  upon  the  spiritual  state  of  the  receiver,  as  contraven- 
ing the  great  truth  that  the  sacraments  without  faith  are  unavail- 
ing, as  in  the  case  of  Jiidas  ;  that  we  derive  our  religious  life  from 
Christ  by  the  truth  through  the  quickening  influence  of  the  Spirit; 

'  and  that  whilst  the  ordinances  of  the  Church  are  channels  through 
which  blessings  are  conveyed,  the}'  cannot  confer  religious  life ; 
and  that  Christ  is  not  bodily,  but  only  spirituall}-  present  with  his 
people  to  the  end  of  time.  The  last  resolution  gathers  up  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Classis  in  regard  to  the  Lord's  Supper  under  the  fol- 
lowing points  :  that  this  institution  is  intended  to  I'emind  us  of 
Christ's  death  until  He  come  ;  that  His  presence  is  not  corporeal 
as  it  was  in  the  days  of  His  flesh ;  that  it  is  not  human,  but  divine 
and  spiritual ;  and  that  in  all  cases  in  which  the  flesh  and  blood  of 
Christ  are  said  to  be  received  in  the  Supper,  the  language  is  to  be 

'*  understood  symbolically  and  not  literally. 

After  the  adoption  of  these  resolutions  another  was  added,  affli'm- 
ing  that  inasmuch  as  it  was  believed  by  many  that  sentiments  con- 
trary to  the  above  essential  doctrines  of  God's  word  Avere  inculcated 
in  a  work  entitled  the  Principle  of  Protestantism,  the  attention  of 
the  Synod  be  called  to  the  work  in  question.  These  sweeping  reso- 
lutions were  adopted  by  a  two-third  vote.  The  minority  contented 
themselves  with  simply  putting  on  record  their  testimou}^  that  the 
Priuciple  of  Protestantism  did  not  teach  anv  heretical  principles, 

(242) 


ClIAl'.   XXIV]  CLASSIS    OF    EAST    TENNSYLVANTA  243 

or  doctrines  contrary  to  the  faith  of  the  Reformed  Chnrch,  leaving 
it  to  the  Synod  to  decide  whether  the  Chissis  was  striking  at  facts 
or  at  a  man  of  straw.  But  then,  as  if  to  make  assurance  doubly 
sure  and  to  relieve  themselves  of  all  further  responsibility  for  what 
they  regarded  as  dangerous  heres}',  the  majority  adopted  one  more 
article  of  faith,  offered  by  the  Rev.  Jacob  Helfenstein. 

Resolved,  That  in  accordance  with  the  general  sentiments  of  the 
Protestant  Church,  we  regard  the  Papal  Si/.^fem  as  the  great  apos- 
tacy  under  tlie  Christian  dispensation,  "the  man  of  sin,"  "the  mys- 
tery of  iniijuity,"  "  the  mother  of  abomination  of  the  earth,"  and, as 
such,  destined  to  utter  and  fearful  destruction.  See  1  Tim.  4  :  1-3, 
2  Thess.  1  :  1-12,  2  Thess.  2  :  3-4,  2  Thess.  1  :  8,  and  Rev.  18th  and 
H)th  chapters.  This  declaration  was  for  the  benefit  especially-  of 
Dr.  Schatr,  who  thought  that  on  this  point  he  was  in  sympathy  with 
tlie  Protestant  Church  in  German^'  at  least.  It  is  here  given  in 
full  as  it  will  serve  to  throw  light  on  the  nature  of  the  pending  con- 
troversy, and  furnish  the  stand-point  of  a  considerable  fraction  of 
well  meaning  Protestants  in  this  country  at  the  time.  It  is  not 
likely,  however,  that  it  Avould  have  been  adopted  by  the  Protestant- 
ism of  both  hemispheres  generalU'. 

Soon  after  the  adjournment  of  the  Chassis  of  Philadelphia,  the 
Classis  of  East  Pennsylvania  held  a  special  meeting  in  Northamp- 
ton county,  and  among  its  items  of  business  was  one  that  had  refer- 
ence to  the  charges  against  the  Professors  at  Mercersburg.  The 
members  were  nearly  all  German  pastors,  serving  large  charges,  ad- 
advanced  in  years  and  experience,  upright,  full  of  integrity  and  love 
for  their  Church,  conservative  and  not  without  solid  learning,  such 
as  Pomp,  Hoffeditz,  Becker,  Hess,  Dubbs,  Zuilch  and  others.  In 
man\'  respects  they  represented  fully  the  si)irit  and  traditions  of 
their  Church,  as  these  had  come  from  their  learned  predecessors  who 
luid  come  from  Germany.  They  lived  mostly  in  rural  districts  and 
were  to  some  extent  separated  b}' language  and  circumstances  from 
the  outside  world  of  thought;  but  "as  the}'  had  been  diligently  sup- 
plied with  papers,  in  which  the  Professors'  sentiments  were  misrepre- 
sented and  then  severely  condemned,  they  were  prepared  to  act 
intelligently — with  both  sides  of  the  question  before  them."  After 
due  retlection  and  examination  of  tlie  publislied  views  of  the  Pro- 
fessors, on  motion  of  Dr.  Jacob  Christian  Becker,  a  learned  teacher 
of  theology,  the  venerable  fathers  decided  that  "those  views  rightly 
understood  fully  agreed  with  the  prevailing  sentiments  of  the 
Cliuicli  and  that  the  Professors  had  ])c'en  unjustly  and  unconstitu- 
tionallv  attacked;   that   the    Kouian    Catholic   Church   had  always 


244  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

been  regarded  in  some  sense  as  a  part  of  the  Christian  Church, 
although  exceedingly  corrupt;  and  that  the  modern  English  Puritan 
view  of  the  Lord's  Supper  is  as  far  from  the  doctrine  of  the  Re- 
formed Church,  and  of  its  apprehension  of  the  Heidelberg  Cate- 
chism, as  that  which  Luther  illustrated  with  the  red-hot  iron."  The 
delegates  to  Sj-nod  were  accordingly  instructed  to  express  the 
views  of  the  Classis  at  the  approaching  meeting  of  the  Synod  in 
regard  to  all  questions  that  were  in  dispute. 

In  the  meantime,  the  Principle  of  Protestantism  was  discussed 
in  the  i)apers  from  both  points  of  view  ;  by  Dr.  Nevin,  in  an  exhaust- 
ive article  in  defence  of  Dr.  Schaft'  on  Protestantism,  and  bv  others 
in  a  somewhat  alarmist  style,  as  if  the  Address  were  a  Pandora's 
box.  Dr.  Elias  Heiner,  of  Baltimore,  feared  that  "  the  Church  was 
on  the  eve  of  a  rupture.  It  was  being  agitated  by  the  dissemination 
of  views,  and  the  discussions  of  questions,  which  no  one,  a  year 
ago,  even  imagined  would  ever  disturb  our  peace."  Most  of  the 
J  Presbyterian  papers  took  sides  with  Dr.  Berg,  whilst  Episcopal 
papers  noticed  the  Inaugural  favorabl}',  and  even  Catholic  and 
Unitarian  organs  regarded  it  as  a  work  of  merit,  which,  with  some 
nervous  people,  was  sufficient  to  condemn  it  at  once.  It  was  a 
period  of  no  little  excitement,  something  like  an  ecclesiastical  cy- 
clone in  the  Reformed  Church  which  extended  considerably  beyond 
its  own  boundaries.  Dr.  Kurtz,  probabl}'  still  smarting  under  the 
blows  he  had  received  in  a  former  controversy,  gave  aid  and  com- 
fort to  Dr.  Berg  and  his  friends,  as  a  matter  of  course ;  but  he  rep- 
resented only  a  j^art  of  his  denomination,  and  the  Lutherans,  per- 
haps as  a  Avhole,  sustained  the  Mercersburg  Professors,  fully  con- 
scious that  the  battle  raging  on  the  Reformed  side  would  inure  to 
their  benefit,  something  which  turned  out  to  be  the  case.  They 
were  the  most  interested  and  disinterested  spectators,  and  some  of 
them  admiring  Dr.  Schaff' s  learning  and  ability  expressed  the  wish 
that  they  might  have  Dr.  Schaff,  or  some  one  like  him,  to  help  them 
fight  out  their  own  battles. 

The  Synod  met  in  the  old  town  of  York,  in  Central  Pennsylvania, 
and  the  representative  men  of  the  Church  were  in  attendance  with 
many  others.  The  advisor^^  members,  brought  together  by  a  com- 
mon interest  in  the  meeting,  exceeded  in  number  the  regular  dele- 
gates. Corresponding  delegates  from  sister  Churches,  Lutheran, 
Dutch  Reformed  and  Presbyterian, were  also  present  and  took  their 
seats  on  the  floor  of  Synod.  The  action  of  the  Classis  of  Philadel- 
phia in  due  season  came  up  through  the  report  of  the  Committee 
on  Classical  minutes,  and  was  classified  among  irregularities.     It 


Chap.  XXIVJ  the  synod  of  youk  245 

was  properly  maintained  that  charges,  or  charges  virtually  implied, 
atiecting  the  standing  or  orthodox}-  of  theological  professors,  ought 
first  to  be  brought  before  the  Board  of  Visitors  of  the  Seminar}-  for 
adjudication,  and  in  case  their  judgment  should  not  be  regarded  as 
satisfactory,  then  an  appeal  to  Synod  for  its  decision  could  be 
legally  made.  This  was  regarded  as  a  necessary  safeguard  to  pro- 
tect the  reputation  of  the  Professors.  If  a  Classis  could  make 
charges  against  them,  spread  them  before  the  Avorld  in  the  public 
prints,  and  argue  the  case  before  the  Synod  was  called  on  to  con- 
sider tlie  case,  then  all  ecclesiastical  order  would  be  at  an  end  ;  and 
this  view  of  the  case  was  sustained  by  the  Svnod.  The  Professors, 
however,  were  unwilling  to  take  advantage  of  a  mere  technicality, 
and  requested  the  Synod  to  allow  the  prosecution  to  proceed,  which 
was  granted.  They  had  been  arraigned  before  the  bar  of  public 
oi)inion,  and  they  wished  to  defend  themselves  before  the  onl}- 
tribunal  to  which  they  were  amenable,  against  what  they  regarded 
as  unjust  and  false  attacks  against  their  theological  standing  in  the 
Church. 

The  action  of  Classis  was  accordingly  taken  out  of  the  column 
of  irregularities  and  placed  among  the  requests  of  the  Classes, 
and  as  such  it  came  before  the  Synod  for  its  consideration. 
Thereupon  it  was  referred  to  a  committee,  of  which  Dr.  Bernard  C. 
AVolfl' was  chairman,  consisting  of  eleven  members;  one  from  each 
of  the  ten  Classes,  and  one  from  the  Reformed  S^nod  of  Ohio.  It 
was  understood  that  after  the  report  was  presented  for  adoption  or 
rejection,  the  way  would  be  opened  for  discussion,  and  a  wide  range 
allowed  for  considering  the  character  of  the  book  which  had  been 
attacked.  The  report  was  prepared  by  the  chairman,  for  which  he 
was  well  (pialified.  He  was  a  man  of  more  than  ordinary  ability, 
of  learning  sanctified  l)y  a  pious  life,  possessed  of  good  judgment, 
known  throughout  the  Church  as  conscientious  in  regard  to  sound- 
ness of  doctrine,  and  considered  by  man}-  as  a  standard  of  ortho- 
doxy; and  so  it  came  to  be  felt  that  as  long  as  he  did  not  tremble 
for  the  ark,  others  had  no  occasion  to  fear  for  its  safety.  His 
report  was  able  and  exhaustive.  It  skilfully  analyzed  the  action 
of  the  Philadelphia  Classis,  brought  out  clear!}-  the  charges  of 
errors  which  it  had  brought  against  the  book  under  consideration, 
and  showed  by  copious  (luotations  that  they  were  not  sustained  by 
the  text,  that  they  were  mere  inferences,  nonsequiturs,  or  gross  ex- 
aggei'ations,  and  that  the  "action  of  the  majority  of  Classis  was 
marked  by  an  entire  absence  of  consideration  and  forethought  in 
bringing  them  forward  in  their  unauthorized  way." 


246  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

The  Inaiignral  had  defined  tradition  nnder  three  divisions;  ritual 
tradition,  which  comprises  the  ancient  customs  of  the  Church  per- 
taining to  order  and  M'orship;  hisforical,  which  refers  to  the  testi- 
mony of  Christian  antiquity  in  favor  of  the  genuineness  of  the 
sacred  hooks;  the  dogmatic  moral,  comprehending  doctrines  as- 
cribed to  Christ  or  the  Apostles  which  the  book  rejects;  and  the 
formal  dogmatic  tradition,  including  the  Apostles'  Creed,  the  cpc- 
umenical  creeds  of  Nice  and  Athanasius,  the  onward  development 
of  Church  doctrine  and  Church  life  from  age  to  age,  to  which  must 
be  added  the  Protestant  symbols,  which  express  the  faith  of  Prot- 
estantism or  its  apprehension  of  the  contents  of  the  Scriptures. 
"  The  Roman  tradition  on  the  other  hand,"  says  Dr.  Schaff,  "is  the 
Pandora  box  from  the  lid  of  which  has  escaped  all  the  corruptions, 
abuses  and  superstitions  which  have  afflicted  the  Church."  But 
whilst  valid  tradition  is  of  great  importance  and  value  to  the  Church, 
and  under  its  formal  dogmatical  form  relatively  indispensable,  he, 
as  the  professed  defender  of  Protestantism,  nevertheless  asserts 
with  emphasis  that  the  Word  of  God  is  the  highest  norm  and  rale 
by  which  to  measure  all  human  truth,  all  ecclesiastical  tradition, 
and  all  synodical  decrees.  In  the  light  of  statements  such  as  these, 
the  report  alleged  "that  the  resolution  of  the  Chassis,  implying  that 
the  book  denied  that  the  Scriptures  were  the  only  rule  of  faith ; 
that  it  did  not  regard  the  Scripture  as  fundamental  to  the  exist- 
ence of  Christianity;  and  that  it  underA'alued  the  Scripture  in  favor 
of  human  tradition,  was  not  justified  b}-  the  facts  in  the  case." 

The  allegation  that  it  denied  that  faith  is  the  life-giving  principle 
of  Christianity,  is  contradicted  by  the  fact  that  the  author  makes 
justification  by  faith  the  material  principle  of  the  Reformation. 
If  the  Classis  had  said  that  Christ  himself  is  such  a  life-giving 
principle  it  would  have  expressed  a  better  theology.  Dr.  Schaff, 
in  one  place,  speaking  of  the  extreme  subjectivit}^  of  the  age,  had 
said  that  "the  sacraments  have  been  foi'gotten  or  practically  un- 
dervalued in  fiivor  of  fjxith,"  which  to  the  Classis  seemed  to  affirm 
that  the  efiicac}'  .of  the  saci'aments  was  superior  to  fjiith,  which 
was  a  manifest  non  sequitur.  Incidentally,  in  another  place,  he  had 
spoken  of  "the  importance  of  the  sacraments  as  objective  institu- 
tions, that  hang  not  in  the  precarious  state  of  the  subject,"  and  this 
was  supposed  to  contravene  the  great  truth,  that  the  sacraments 
without  fiiith  are  unavailing.  But  the  committee  could  see  no 
sentiment  to  the  contrary-  after  a  careful  examination  of  the  book 
itself.  "As  objective  institutions,  appointed  by  Christ  Himself,  have 
the}'  no  force  or  eflficac}'  in  themselves  ?     Is  there  no  imvard  grace 


Chap.  XXH']  the  synod  of  york  247 

or  power  of  which  they  are  the  outward  signs,  according  to  the 
doctrine  of  the  Reformed  Churches  generally?  Are  the  sacraments 
mere  forms  and  ceremonies,  and  if  so,  whence  proceeds  their  vir- 
tue, which  tlie  recip"ent  experiences  sul)jectively  by  the  exercise 
of  ftiith  ?" 

The  fourth  resolution  of  Classis  affirmed  that  it  was  a  funda- 
mental doctrine  that  Christians  derive  their  religious  life  from 
Christ  l)y  the  Truth,  through  the  quickening  influence  of  the  Spirit, 
and  that  the  ordinances  of  the  Church,  although  channels  through 
which  blessings  are  conveyed,  cannot  confer  grace.  But  the  com- 
mittee, after  diligent  search,  could  not  find  anything  in  the  Inan- 
gural  that  taught  the  contrary  of  thes<e  statements.  It  even  em- 
phasized the  necessity  of  faith  in  Christ,  "in  order  that  the  con- 
tents of  Scripture  might  live  in  the  heart  by  the  power  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  accompanying  the  "Word, and  that  the  works  of  the  be- 
liever are  good  only  as  the}'  are  wrought  in  Him  and  through  Him 
by  the  Spirit  of  God." 

The  last  resolution,  as  we  have  seen,  makes  the  Lord's  Supper 
simply  a  memorial  of  Christ's  sufferings  and  death,  afilrms  that  the 
presence  of  Christ  in  His  Sacrament  is  no  longer  human,  but  only 
divine  and  spiritual,  and  asserts  that  in  all  cases  in  which  the  Flesh 
and  Blood  of  Christ  are  received  in  the  Supper,  the  language  is  to 
be  understood  sj-rabolically  and  not  literall}'.  But  it  so  turned  out 
that  the  book  nowhere  discussed  the  Sacrament  of  the  Supper. 
Incidentally  in  one  place  it  speaks  of  the  "  importance  of  the 
Sacraments  as  including  a  living  actual  presence  of  Christ  for  the 
purpose  they  are  intended  to  secure,  as  real  as  that  by  which  He 
stood  among  His  disciples  in  the  da3's  of  His  flesh."  The  Philadel- 
phia brethren  consequentl}-  made  for  themselves  a  man  of  straw  in 
order,  as  it  seems,  that  they  might  get  the  credit  of  demolishing  it 
with  their  ecclesiastical  thunder.  The}^,  however,  were  well  aware 
that  the  Professors  held  much  higher  views  of  the  Holy  Eucharist 
than  thej'.and  rightly  concluded  that  they  were  somewhere  hidden 
in  the  book,  or  involved  in  their  teachings  in  regard  to  the  Church. 
Here  there  was  a  wide  difference,  and  the  last  complaint  of  the  clas- 
sical brethren,  although  technically  witliout  anv  foundation  in  fiict, 
was  allowed  to  stand  in  its  place  in  their  report.  It  gave  the  Synod 
and  the  Professors  an  opportunity  to  discuss  not  only  the  Church 
Question  in  general,  l)ut  also  tlie  Sacramental  Question  in  i)articular. 
It  added  much  interest  tothedeltate  and  proved  to  be  highly  edify- 
ing to  all  who  listened  to  it. 

The  Committee  concluded  their  report  b}'  sa3-ing  that  it  was  their 


248  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.   IX 

unanimous  judgment  that  there  was  nothing  in  the  book  to  justify 
the  charges  preferred  against  the  Professors,  or  lead  to  the  sus- 
picion or  fear  that  they  were  disposed  to  depart  from  the  true 
Protestant  stand-point;  that  fairly  understood  it  was  well  calcu- 
lated to  promote  the  true  interests  of  religion,  and  entitled  the 
authors  to  the  respect  and  affectionate  regards  of  the  Protestant 
community';  that  they  deserved  and  should  receive  the  warmest 
s^-mpathy  and  cordial  support  of  the  friends  of  the  Church  in  their 
earnest  and  untiring  efforts  to  build  up  her  Institutions  and  to 
advance  her  honor  and  welfare ;  and  that  it  was  a  matter  of  regret 
that  the  Philadelphia  Classis  did  not  pursue  the  course  indicated 
b^'  the  Constitution  and  sanctioned  b3'  the  customs  of  the  Church, 
in  bringing  to  the  notice  of  the  Synod  their  complaints  against  the 
Theological  Professors. 

The  report  brought  the  whole  subject  before  the  Sjnod  and  a 
time  was  appointed  for  its  consideration.  The  discussions,  which 
lasted  several  days,  were  conducted  with  the  utmost  decorum  and 
seriousness  and  were  listened  to  hy  crowded  houses.  Dr.  Berg, 
who  was  a  master  of  sarcasm  himself,  cheerfully  acceded  to  Dr. 
Nevin's  request  that  everything  of  a  personal  or  oflfensive  character 
should  be  omitted  in  their  speeches.  Seldom,  if  ever,  perhaps,  was 
a  warm  theological  debate  carried  forward  with  greater  dignity  or 
fewer  appeals  to  vulgar  prejudice.  The  ultra-Protestant  feeling  of 
the  community  was  largely  represented,  and  more  or  less  in  sj-m- 
path}'  with  the  Classis  and  its  representatives,  but  there  was  a  large 
German  element  on  hand  which  wished  to  hear  who  had  the  better 
side  of  the  argument  and  were  therefore  thoughtful,  discriminating 
listeners.  Dr.  Berg  was  a  rhetorician,  an  elocutionist  and  a  pleasant 
speaker,  one  who  would  arrest  attention  in  any  audience.  Dr. 
Kevin  was  a  logician,  a  learned  theologian,  and  a  speaker  whose 
deep  base  tones  of  voice,  with  an  occasional  stoppage  in  his  speech, 
as  if  his  words  were  inadequate  to  the  array  of  thoughts  that  de- 
manded expression,  was  well  calculated  to  secure  the  attention  of 
those  who  valued  the  sense  of  things  more  than  the  sound  of  words. 
He  was  at  this  time  not  yet  fortj'-three  years  of  age,  with  a  classic 
head,  a  forehead  marked  with  the  deep  lines  of  thought,  flashing 
eyes,  and  a  vigorous  growth  of  dark  hair.  As  he  stood  before  the 
Synod,  and  in  his  own  commanding  waj?^  discussed  the  deepest  ques- 
tions in  theology,  he  would  have  presented  a  model  that  a  painter  or 
sculptor  might  have  coveted.  It  is  said  that  in  the  midst  of  an 
earnest  discussion,  with  onl^^  a  slight  tinge  of  color  in  his  face,  an 
iutense  listener  involuntaril}'  remarked  to  his  neighbor,  "  See,  be- 


Chap.  XXIV]  the  synod  of  york  249 

hold  the  innrble  man."  His  address  on  this  occasion  was  purel}' 
extemporaneous,  and  no  notes  were  taken  of  its  contents  b}'  in- 
dividuals ()]■  rc'i)orters  at  the  time.  The  substance  of  his  remarks, 
however,  will  l)e  found  in  this  volume  in  what  he,  said  or  wrote  at 
other  times  concerning  Tradition,  the  Saci'aments,  the  M3'stical 
Union,  the  Church  Question,  and  other  relative  topics. 

As  a  matter  of  course  Dr.  Schaff,  who  was  jiiore  immediatelj-  re- 
sponsible for  the  book  that  was  on  trial,  took  a  prominent  part  in 
the  discussions.  He  was  considerably  j^ounger  than  Dr.  Nevin, 
and  received  invaluable  assistance  from  his  American  colleague,  in 
his  new  surroundings  in  this  country,  on  the  floor  of  an  American 
S^'nod.  He  was  teeming  with  learning,  quick  in  calling  his  knowl- 
edge into  requisition,  full  of  enthusiasm  for  German  theolog}-,  and 
alwaj's  ready  to  defend  his  Inaugural  at  whatever  point  the  attack 
was  made.  At  that  time  he  was  not  yet  able  to  express  himself 
freely  in  the  English  language,  and  if  he  was  at  a  loss  for  a  word, 
his  brethren  around  him  wei'e  quick  to  suppl}'  him  with  the  right 
one.  He  made  a  favorable  impression  upon  the  ministers  generally', 
and  confirmed  them  in  their  opinion  that  the  S3nod  had  been 
guided  b}'  a  higher  wisdom  than  their  own  in  transferring  him  from 
the  Universitv  of  Berlin  to  the  Theological  Seminar}'  at  Mercers- 
burg. 

The  discussion  continued  for  two  whole  daj^s, including  the  even- 
ing sessions, in  which  the  ministerial  delegates  and  elders  alike  took 
part  and  expressed  themselves  freel^'.  When  the  A'ote  on  the 
adoption  of  the  Committee's' report  came  to  be  taken,  it  was  found 
that  fort}-  members  voted  in  the  affirmative;  and  three,  including 
Dr.  Berg  and  two  elders,  in  the  negative,  with  one  non-liquet.  Dr. 
Berg  was  then  allowed  to  enter  a  long  protest  on  the  minutes  of 
the  Synod,  conclugfcing  with  the  memorable  words  of  Martin  Luther 
at  the  Diet  of  Worms :  "  Hier  stehe  ich.  Icli  kann  nicht  anders. 
Gott  helfe  mir,"  which  in  the  circumstances  were,  of  course,  re- 
garded by  some  at  least  as  carrying  in  them  more  of  bathos  than  of 
pathos.  A  reply  to  the  Protest  Avas  prepared  b}-  a  Committee  of 
the  Synod,  of  which  the  llev.  J.  H.  A.  Bomberger,  one  of  the 
younger  members,  Avas  chairman,  which  was  also  ordered  to  be  put 
on  record.  Thus  ended  a  contest  in  which  Logic  gained  a  signal 
victory  over  Rhetoric";  and  the  historical  life  of  the  Reformed 
Church  over  the  unchurchly,  ultra-i)rotestant  elements  which  here 
sought  to  come  in  and  guide  the  vessel  of  an  old  historic  church. 

The  action  of  the  Synod  at  York  Avas  an  epoch  full  of  significance. 
Composed  as  this  body  was  of  representative  ministers  and  elders, 
16 


250  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM   1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

with  a  large  number  of  advisory  members  in  sympath^y  with  it,  it 
expressed  clearly  the  mind  of  the  Church  at  large  in  regard  to  the 
issue  here  made.  It  affirmed  distinctly  that  the  Professors  at 
Mercersburg  would  be  sustained  and  protected  in  their  course, 
against  any  further  trial  or  Synodical  action  for  the  theological 
views  which  the^'  thus  far  had  advanced.  The  whole  subject,  here 
earnestly  and  fully  discussed  on  the  floor  of  Synod,  was  thus  re- 
moved from  the  ecclesiastical  tribunal  and  passed  over  into  the 
arena  of  theological  discussion.  The  controversy,  as  we  shall  see, 
continued  for  a  number  of  years  afterwards,  but  under  all  its  various 
phases,  it  embraced  substantially  the  principles  and  views  discussed 
on  the  floor  of  the  Synod  of  York.  What  came  to  be  called  the 
"  Mercersburg  Theology  "  grew  out  of  the  ideas  and  doctrines  era- 
bodied  in  the  Principle  of  Protestantism,  its  Introduction  and  the 
Sermon  on  Catholic  Unit}^,  in  more  or  less  logical  order,  and  carried 
with  it,  as  far  as  it  was  consistent  with  these  first  principles,  the 
protection  of  S^-nod.  At  times  when  the  debate  ran  high  and  ex- 
aggerated fears  were  honestly  entertained  or  unwisely  encouraged  as 
regards  where  it  would  end,  outsiders,  brethren  in  other  churches, 
wondered  why  the  matter  was  not  settled  at  once;  and  at  times  un- 
called for  reflections  were  made  upon  the  Church  itself.  But  the 
Sjaiod  had  done  its  part,  and  its  liberality  in  allowing  its  profes- 
sors to  discuss  the  profound  theological  questions  of  the  times  with 
the  amplest  freedom,  must  appear  now  to  disinterested  persons  as 
inuring  to  its  credit  rather  than  to  any  want  of  fidelitj^  to  its  trust. 
The  Heidelberg  Catechism,  the  basis  of  its  faith,  is  broad,  liberal, 
catholic,  and  allows  of  more  freedom  for  diversity  of  opinion  on 
controverted  points  than  most  other  religious  confessions.  A  con- 
trovers}^,  therefore,  that  might  have  been  suppressed,  in  some  other 
denominations,  disgraceful  to  its  leaders  on  the  one  side  or  the 
other,  was  in  the  nature  of  the  case  allowed  to  take  its  course  in 
the  Reformed  Church,  and  each  one  of  its  distinguished  and 
laborious  professors  was  allowed  to  stand  rectim  in  Ecclesia.  It 
may  be  proper  to  add  that  the  large  array  of  ministers  and  elders, 
who  supported  the  cause  .of  progress  and  theological  development 
at  York,  with  few  exceptions,  remained  true  to  their  professions, 
and  in  other  battle  fields  sustained  the  professors  in  their  work. 
The  fathers  nearly  all  have  fallen  asleep,  and  the  sons  have  now 
become  the  fathers  in  the  Church. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  Principle  of  Protestantism,  whilst  it  was  on  trial  before 
the  Synod  and  afterwards,  was  extensively  noticed  by  the  re- 
ligious papers  and  quarterlies,  and  its  merits  criticised  favorably 
or  unfavorably  according  to  the  stand-point  or  calibre  of  the  re- 
viewer. It  was  at  a  period  when  German  theolog}^  was  not  gener- 
ally understood  in  this  country-.  Up  to  this  time  unfortunately 
much  of  it  that  had  crossed  the  ocean  was  of  questionable  ortho- 
dox}', or  decidedly  rationalistic,  and  so  as  a  whole  it  came  to  be 
regarded  with  more  or  less  suspicion.  Dr.  SchafF's  first  production, 
however,  whilst  it  was  one  of  ability  and  learning,  was  pervaded 
throughout  with  an  evangelical  spirit  and  regard  for  orthodox^-.  It 
therefore  commanded  the  attention  of  earnest  and  profound  think- 
ers as  Avell  as  of  such  as  were  superficial.  The  Princeton  Itcview 
Avas  among  the  first  to  give  it  a  respectful  notice,  which  was  pub- 
lished in  the  3Ie><!<en(jcr,  immediatel}-  after  the  proceedings  of  the 
Synod  at  York  were  given  to  the  public.  ''  The  importance  of  the 
subject  of  which  the  book  treated,"  said  the  reviewer,  "the  ability 
it  displayed  and  the  attention  which  it  excited,  all  claimed  for  it 
an  elaborate  review,  but  circumstances,  beyond  the  control  of  the 
writer,  shut  him  up  to  the  necessity'  of  confining  himself  to  a  short 
notice."  The  writer.  Dr.  Charles  Hodge,  complains  that  the 
book,  on  account  of  its  decidedly  German  character,  was  to  him 
difficult  to  understand.  He  had  read  the  whole  of  it  over  twice, 
and  was  far  from  being  satisfied  that  he  adequatel}'  comprehended 
it,  especially  that  part  of  it  which  proceeded  from  the  pen  of  Dr. 
Nevin.  Of  course  the  language  was  pure  English,  but  the  thoughts 
of  both  writers  were  certainly  German. 

Tlie  reviewer  accordingly'  confines  himself  mainly  to  criticisms 
on  some  of  the  details  of  the  book.  He  tliinks  tluit  Dr.  Schaff 
unduly  magnifies  the  evils  of  the  sect-system  in  this  country.  He 
also  joins  issue  with  him  in  reference  to  the  comparative  evils  of 
Rationalism  and  Romanism.  "With  reference  to  the  state  of  the 
Cliurch  in  this  country,  Uomanisni  is  immeasurabl}'  more  danger- 
ou-^  than  infidelity'."  In  Germany  and  Europe  theologians  regard- 
ed the  hitter  as  the  greater  of  the  two  evils.  Dr.  Hodge  admitted 
the  principle  of  historical  development  as  advocated  by  Dr.  Schatf, 
althougli  he  api)rclu'U(led  it  most  likelv  from  a  somewiiat   ditlerent 

(251) 


252  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  TX 

point  of  view.  "  It  is  very  plain,"  he  says, "  from  this  brief  anal^-sis 
of  the  book  before  ns,  that  the  impression  that  Dr.  Nevin  and  Prof. 
Schaff  are  tending  towards  Puseyism,  if  by  Puseyism  be  meant 
prelacy  and  Rome,  and  what  is  necessarily  connected  with  them, 
is  altogether  unfounded.  It  would  be  suicidal  in  them,  and  entirelj- 
opposed  to  all  their  principles  to  step  out  of  the  line  of  historical 
development.  In  all  this  there  is  a  great  deal  that  is  due  to  the 
peculiar  philosophical  and  theological  training  of  the  writer;  much 
that  we  do  not  understand  and  much  with  which  we  do  not  agree. 
And  3'et  there  is  much  that  is  healthful  and  encouraging," 

It  is  somewhat  remarkable  that  the  Princeton  reviewer  made  no 
reference  to  an}*  position  advanced  by  Dr.  Nevin,  either  in  the  In- 
troduction to  the  book  or  in  the  Sermon  which  served  as  an  appen- 
dix. To  have  done  so  would  have  required  a  discussion  of  the 
whole  subject  which  the  limits  of  the  article  precluded.  It  was 
evident  that  Dr.  Nevin  had  outgrown  his  Princeton  training,  and 
the  reviewer  probabl}'  thought  best  to  suspend  any  criticism  of  his 
views  until  it  was  seen  more  clearly  where  he  intended  to  land. 
His  remarks,  however,  in  regard  to  German  theologians  and  phil- 
osophers in  general,  without  exceptions  to  an}^  of  them  in  particu- 
lar, was  doubtless  intended  no  less  for  Dr.  Nevin 's  benefit  than  for 
that  of  his  colleague.  "  We  are  afraid,"  he  says,  "  of  their  con- 
founding all  the  landmarks  of  truth,  of  leading  men  to  see  no  differ- 
ence between  holiness  and  truth,  sin  and  defect,  fate  and  providence, 
a  self  conscious  universe  and  our  Father  who  is  in  heaven."  This 
we  suppose  was  regarded  as  a  sufficient  repl}-  for  the  time  being.  "  It 
is  an  immense  error,"  Dr.  Nevin  had  said,  "that  the  Anglo-Ameri- 
can order  of  religious  life  is  all  right,  and  the  Grerman  life  all  wrong. 
What  is  needed  is  a  judicious  union  of  both,  in  which  the  true  and 
good  on  the  one  side  shall  find  its  proper  supplement  in  the  true 
and  good  on  the  other  side,  and  one-sided  extremes  stand  mutually 
corrected  and  reciprocall}-  restrained.  Realism  and  Idealism,  prac- 
tice and  theory,  are  both,  separately  taken,  unsound  and  untrue. 
Our  religious  life  and  practice  can  be  sound  and  strong,  only  in 
connection  with  a  living,  vigorous  theology,  which  to  be  thus  living 
and  vigorous  must  be  more  than  traditional.  And  if  there  be  one 
country  in  the  whole  compass  of  the  Church,  where  at  this  moment 
orthodox  theology  is  not  dead,  but  full  of  life  and  power,  that  coun- 
try is  Germany,  the  land  of  Luther  and  the  glorious  Reformation. 
We  ma}^  hope  then  that  it  will  be  found  sufficient  for  its  oavu  work. 
1/  accomplished  at  all,  it  will  be  a  work  for  the  whole  Christian 
world ;  and  we  owe  it  to  ourselves  at  least,  to  be  willing  to  take  ad- 


Chap.  XXY]  the  biblical  iiErosiTOiiv  253 

vantage  of  it  in  its  progress  find  to  employ  it  for  the  improvement 
of  our  own  position,  if  it  can  be  so  used.  Thus  much  I  have 
thought  it  proper  to  state  on  this  point,  merely  to  counteract,  if 
possible,  the  poor  prejudice  that  some  may  feel  towards  the  present 
work,  simply  because  of  its  German  source  and  German  complexion ; 
as  if  all  must  needs  be  either  rationalistic  or  transcendental,  that 
breathes  a  thought  in  common  with  Hegel,  or  owns  a  feeling  in 
sympathy  with  the  gifted,  noble  Schleiermacher." 

Other  quarterly  Reviews  at  the  time  noticed  the  new  book,  more 
or  less  favorably,  and  for  the  most  part  without  any  attempt  to  dis- 
cuss its  underlying  principles,  or  to  grapple  earnestly  with  the 
great  Church  (Question  for  the  solution  of  which  it  was  intended  as 
an  humble  contribution.  But  to  this  remark  there  was  at  least  one 
liouorable  exception.  At  the  same  time  the  article  was  i)ublished 
in  the  Princeton  Becicw,  another  article  a})peared  in  the  liihlical 
liepqs^itort/,  the  principal  organ  of  the  New  School  Theology',  which 
for  the  times  and  in  the  circumstances  was  in  all  respects  a  Aery 
remarkable  one.  Its  author.  Professor  Taylor  Lewis,  was  a  lawyer 
by  profession,  but  had  devoted  most  of  his  attention  to  teaching, 
first  in  classical  schools,  and  was  at  this  time  professor  of  Greek 
in  the  Universit}'  of  Xew  York.  He  subsequently  became  profes- 
sor of  the  Greek  language,  instructor  in  the  oriental  languages,  and 
lecturer  on  Biblical  and  Oriental  Literature  at  Union  College,  his 
Alma  Mater.  He  was  probably  the  most  learned  theologian  among 
laymen  in  his  da}',  as  his  books  and  contributions  to  theological 
literature  would  seem  to  indicate.  He  was  one  year  older  than  Dr. 
Xevin,  had  graduated  at  Schenectady^  one  j^ear  before  he  did,  was  a 
Christian  Platonist,  and  a  devout  member  of  the  Dutch  Reformed 
Church.  His  review  of  the  Principle  of  Protestantism  was  con- 
ceived in  a  broad  and  liberal  sjjirit,  and  was  decidedly  the  ablest 
and  fairest  that  appeared  at  the  time. 

The  writer  goes  on  to  say  that  "the  Sermon  and  Introduction  of 
Dr.  Nevin  are  pervaded  throughout  with  the  same  spirit  and  advo- 
cate substantially  the  same  views  as  the  Inaugural;  in  connection, 
however,  with  another  topic,  which  may  be  regarded  as  the  central 
truth,  or,  as  some  would  say,  the  central  error,  that  gives  coherence 
and  consistency  to  all  the  other  opinions  advanced.  This  is  the 
doctrine  of  the  real  and  vital,  instead  of  a  mere  moral  or  figurative, 
union  of  believers  to  Christ.  In  close  connection  with  this,  is  Dr. 
Xevin's  peculiar  view  of  the  real  presence  of  Christ  in  the  Eucharist; 
in  which  ordinance,  this  union,  although  not  created,  is  supposed 
to  be  strengthened  and  perfected  in  a  special  manner.     We  say,  Dr. 


254  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

Kevin's  j)eculiar  view,  because  so  regarded  b^-  most  Protestants  at 
the  present  da^-,  although,  as  he  contends,  it  may  be  found  in  nearly- 
all  the  articles  drawn  up  at  the  Reformation,  and  now  forming  the 
avowed  standards  of  almost  all  our  Orthodox  Protestant  Churches. 
Both  writers,  although  viewing  it  from  different  positions,  agi-ee 
in  regarding  the  Church  Question  as  the  great  question  of  the  day, 
and  as  "by  no  means  finding  its  proper  solution  in  the  present  state 
of  the  Protestant  denominations.  In  regard  to  ultra-Protestantism 
with  its  rationalizing  and  sectarian  tendencies,  both  writers  use 
language  which  ma}^  perhaps  be  thought  to  resemble  what  has  been 
emplo^^ed  by  Puse^dtes  and  even  Romanist  writers.  This,  however, 
as  we  think,  is  more  in  appearance  than  realit}^  However  extrava- 
gant their  doctrine  in  regard  to  the  Church  and  the  Sacraments 
may  seem  to  some,  in  one  thing  it  differs  essentiall}'  and  fundament- 
all}'  from  that  of  Rome  or  Oxford.  We  refer  to  the  dogma  of  a 
mediating  priesthood,  which  essentially  changes  the  nature  of  the 
Church,  and  instead  of  exalting,  actuall}'  degrades  the  Eucharist. 
Of  this  we  find  no  traces  in  the  work  before  us ;  and  this  alone 
creates  an  impassable  gulf  between  the  writers  and  those  with  whom 
they  are,  by  some,  confounded.  They  claim  to  be  true,  zealous  and 
earnest  Protestants — warm  friends  of  the  Reformation;  and  in  a 
careful  examination,  we  are  disposed  to  concede  to  them  this  char- 
acter in  its  fullest  extent.  They  may  be  mistaken  in  sorhe,  even  in 
many  points,  and  in  the  chief  of  their  positions,  but  of  this  one  thing 
we  have  no  doubt,  they  are  honest  Protestants,  as  sincere  as  any  of 
those  who  would  charge  them  with  such  Pusejdte  tendencies,  and 
perhaps  it  may  appear,  more  consistent  than  some  who  assume  to 
be  the  great  champions  of  the  cause  of  the  Reformation. 

"  Is  Protestantism  perfect  ?  If  no  man  will  dare  to  say  this,  wh}- 
should  we  call  in  question  the  sincerity  of  those  professed  friends 
of  the  Reformation,  who  contend  that,  in  setting  forth  its  ultra- 
tendencies,  they  are  rendering  the  very  best  possible  service  to  the 
cause  they  are  charged  with  assailing  ?  If  it  be  said  that  in  the 
present  critical  strife,  it  is  unsafe  to  speak  even  in  the  most  gentle 
terms  of  any  defects  or  false  tendencies  belonging  to  our  own  side 
of  these  most  momentous  questions,  we  demur  to  any  such  posi- 
tion, as  either  just  in  itself  or  founded  on  any  true  notion  of  polic}'. 
If  we  are  on  the  qyq  of  a  tremendous  conflict,  our  first  business 
should  be  to  examine,  if  there  are  any  weak  points  in  our  own  posi- 
tion— not  to  proclaim  them  to  the  enemy,  but  that  they  may  be  rem- 
edied before  the  whole  cause,  with  its  immense  over-balancing  ben- 
efits, is  thereby  put  in  jeopardy. 


ClIAr.  XXY]  THE    niHLICAL    RErOSITORY  255 

"Tliis  is  the  position  assumed  by  Trof.  Scluiff  imd  Dr.  Xevin. 
Nothing  can  be  more  purelj'^  evangelical  than  the  manner  in  which 
Prof.  Schaff  sets  forth  that  great  article  of  Justification  by  Faith, 
in  the  positive  announcement  of  which,  as  he  contends,  consisted 
the  historical  development  of  the  Reformation ;  constituting  it  a 
real  state  of  progress  in  the  historical  consciousness  of  the  Church ; 
a  step  from  which,  according  to  liis  peculiar  theory,  tlie  Church  can 
lU'vcr  recede.  We  think  there  is  some  degree  of  error  and  incon- 
sistency in  this  theor}'  of  progress  and  development,  of  which  our 
author  is  so  fond.  It  is,  however,  sufficient  for  our  present  pur- 
pose to  observe  that  the  doctrine  must  forever  place  an  impassable 
barrier  between  him  and  both  branches  of  the  anti-Protestant  party, 
the  one  utterly  disregarding  the  Reformation  as  a  mere  historical 
negative  in  the  history  of  the  Church ;  the  other  viewing  it  as  a 
step,  perhaps  necessary,  but  which,  having  fulfilled  its  mission,  must 
now  speedily  be  retraced.  If  Prof  Schafi"  and  Dr.  Nevin  are  sincere 
in  this — and  it  seems  to  be  not  merel}'  held  but  to  constitute  their 
favorite  and  darling  dogma — then  they  must  be  among  the  last,  if 
not  the  very  last,  in  the  Protestant  ranks,  to  admit  the  thought  of 
any  return  to  Rome,  or  of  any  alliance  with  that  heartless  imita- 
tion of  Rome,  which  has  its  seat  at  Oxford." 

With  these  introductory  remarks,  the  Professor  proceeds  to  dis- 
cuss tlio  Cliurcli  Question,  the  main  object  of  his  article,  with  re- 
markaljle  freedom,  ability,  and  composure  of  mind.  He  was  not  a 
theological  professor,  was  unhampered  by  his  surroundings,  and 
spoke  out  his  mind  freel^'.  In  tlic  main  he  agreed  with  the  Mercers- 
burg  professors,  and  did  them  full  justice  in  pointing  out  wliat  was 
certainly  not  their  meaning.  "  Christianitj^,"  he  said, "  is  not  merel}^ 
a  S3'stem  of  religious  truth,  however  sublime  and  elevated.  It  is 
not  a  school,  but  a  life;  not  a  mere  invisible  power,  be  it  regarded 
as  ever  so  refined,  spiritual,  or  even  supernatural;  but  an  outward 
society  standing  in  the  strongest  visible  contrast  to  the  world,  and 
realizing  the  full  import  of  that  most  significant  phrase — the  King- 
dom of  Heaven.  Christ  intended  to  establish  a  communit}'  designed 
to  be  a  visible,  perpetual,  one  and  universal,  a  community  which, 
although  most  simple  in  its  structure,  should  nevertheless  have  an 
elHcient  organization  and  a  true  government,  clothed  not  merely 
with  moral  l)ut  official  authoritj' — in  other  words,  a  visible  com- 
munion of  Himself  as  of  a  common  life,  and  not  a  union  arising 
from  tlie  same  or  varying  vicAvs  of  a  common  professed  philosophy^ 
Tlie  claims  of  the  Pnpal  and  Episcojial  hierarchy  to  be  such  a  com- 
munion oi'  ("liurcli  li:is  been  set  aside  bv  liistorv  and  lias  not   vet 


256  AT    3IERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

been  properly  realized  in  the  Protestant  Churches  of  Europe  or 
America,  The  divisions  in  these  continue,  although  the  Professor 
thinks  that  Dr.  Schaff  had  magnified  the  evils  of  our  sectarian  divis- 
ion undul}',  because  although  we  have  different  denominations  they 
are  more  united  than  Dr.  Schaff  supposed — and  as  he  himself  was 
no  doubt  happy  to  learn  after  a  longer  residence  in  this  country. 

"•It  must,  however,  be  admitted,"  says  the  Professor,  "that  in  our 
own  times  there  are,  throughout  Protestant  Christendom,  some 
grounds  for  the  alarm  raised  by  Professor  Schaff.  Whilst  the  false 
loA'e  of  the  hierarch}^  taking  the  guise  of  love  for  the  Church,  may 
be  waxing  stronger  in  some  bodies,  the  true  Church  feeling  is  de- 
cajdng  in  others,  where  it  once  was  cherished.  Especially  is  this 
the  case  in  our  own  land,  and  here  there  is  every  appearance  of  a 
crisis.  The  Church  dogma  and  the  Church  feeling  seem  both  des- 
tined to  be  severely  tested.  'Not  only  are  these  new  bodies  con- 
tinuing separate  from  the  old,  on  altogether  slight  and  inadequate 
grounds,  but  there  are  cases  arising  among  us  of  associations  in 
the  strictest  sense  voluntary — self  constituted — claiming  no  con- 
tinuous derivation  from  any  others,  and  although  calling  themselves 
Churches,  acknowledging  no  higher  obligation,  and  no  higher  life 
for  their  pretended  organisms,  than  avowedly  belong  to  a  temper- 
ance or  moral  reform  society.  These  things  ought  to  show  us 
whither  we  are  tending.  If  there  is — and  who  can  read  the  New 
Testament  and  doubt  it? — one  universal  and  visible  Church, in  dis- 
tinction from  a  school  or  schools  of  philosophy — a  Church  most 
dear  to  the  Apostles  and  first  disciples  of  the  Lord,  and  to  the 
unity  of  which  they  attached  the  utmost  importance — then  certainly 
we  have  gone  too  far  in  this  country  to  the  unchurchly  extreme. 
If  there  are  such  things  as  schism  and  criminal  sectarianism,  we 
are  in  great  danger  of  becoming  guilty  of  them.  We  ought,  there- 
fore, to  be  thankful  to  those  who  sound  the  alarm,  instead  of  charg- 
ing them  with  Romish  tendencies  for  so  doing.  The  first  thing, 
and  the  great  thing,  is  to  attempt  to  revive  a  true  Church  feeling, 
and  when  this  is  warmly'  cherished  in  every  department  of  our 
broken  Zion,  and  each  section  begins  to  feel  that  it  is  incomplete, 
and  deprived  of  a  portion  of  its  true  life,  as  long  as  it  is  not  in 
true  Church  relations  with  other  Christian  bodies,  then  one  step 
towards  a  blessed  consummation  has  been  taken.  When  the  heart 
has  been  prepared,  God  may  provide  the  way.  If  the  soil  be  thus 
prepared,  how  easy  it  would  be  for  Him  so  to  raise  the  spiritual 
temperature  by  an  outpouring  of  the  Spirit  of  life  as  well  as  of 
truth  that  all  sects,  not  even  leaving  out  of  the  estimate  the  arro- 


Chap.  XXYJ  the  biblical  repository  25T 

gant  spirit  of  Oxford,  or  the  subjects  of  Romish  tyranny,  sliould 
melt  and  flow  into  one." 

Having  discussed  the  Church  Question  as  viewed  by  Dr.  Sehaff 
from  the  stand-point  of  history,  the  reviewer  goe^  on  to  consider  it 
in  its  connection  with  the  mA'stical  union  of  believers  with  Christ 
as  set  forth  by  Dr.  Xevin  in  his  discoui'se  on  Catholic  unity.  With 
mucli  force  and  grasp  of  thought  he  handles  this  mjsterious  sub- 
ject in  harmony  with  the  Sermon,  presenting  it  in  a  new  and  inter- 
esting light,  and  in  a  style  remarkably  lucid  and  sweet.  Church 
unity  and  the  union  of  believers  with  Christ  the  head  go  together, 
the  former  .'dwa^s  flowing  from  tlic  latter  as  a  necessary  result ; 
unless  its  free  ojicration  is  prevented  Iw  counteracting  influences 
such  as  rationalism  or  unbelief. 

"The  doctrine  c>f  such  a  union  was  certainly  maintained  most 
strenuoush'  by  the  Reformers,  and  although  it  has  in  a  measure 
fallen  out  of  our  modern  theology  or  its  importance  been  under- 
valued, it  still  enters  largely  into  the  feelings  of  all  true  Christians. 
It  is  acknowledged  in  most  of  our  Protestant  standards,  and  the 
great  name  of  Calvin  would  in  itself  be  sutHcient  to  defend  an}-  one 
from  lieres}-  who  should  maintain  it. 

"The  earliest  Church  Fathers  are  full  of  it.  It  seems  to  be  the 
pervading  spirit  of  their  writings.  We  meet  with  it  in  ever^'  aspect 
of  the  Primitive  Church.  Its  martyrs  proclaim  it  at  the  stake. 
The  profane  world  around  them  stood  amazed  at  a  doctrine  so 
wonderful,  so  new;  such  godless  scoffers  as  Lucian  and  Celsus  rep- 
resent it  as  one  of  their  absurd  and  incomprehensible  dogmas. 
'The  Christians,'  says  one  of  them  in  derision,  'believe  that  Christ 
lives  in  them,  and  that  tliey  literally  carrj'  their  God  within  their 
hearts.' 

"There  is  the  same  abundant  scriptural  support  for  this  doctrine 
as  there  is  for  that  of  justification  by  faith.  No  more  common  is 
it  for  Paul  to  speak  of  our  being  saved  by  the  blood  of  Christ  than 
of  our  being  in  Christ.  He  tells  us  expressly'  toe  are  members  of 
His  body,  of  His  Jlesh,  and  of  His  bones.  Most  wonderful  language 
trul}'!  No  such  usus  loquendi  had  ever  before  been  employed  in 
the  Old  Testament.  The  language  is  entirely'  new.  It  was  foreign 
to  an}-  previous  system  of  religion.  It  was  utterl}'  unknown  both 
to  i)hilosoi)h3'  and  theolog}'.  The  expression  in  Moses  would  have 
sounded  as  strange  to  the  Jew  as  in  Socrates  to  the  Greek.  This 
mode  of  speech  meets  us  for  the  first  time  in  some  of  the  declara- 
tions of  our  Lord,  and  then  the  Apostles,  especiall}-  Paul,  are  full 
of  it. 


258  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DlV.  IX 

"  From  the  great  prominence  given  to  the  life  of  Christ,  espeeia,!!}' 
in  the  writings  of  John,  may  we  not  conclude  that  Jesus  becomes 
our  eftectual  teacher,  and  our  real  atoning  sacrifice,  because  He  pre- 
viously became  onr  life?  The  mystical  union,  which  we  believe  to 
be  taught  in  such  expressions,  would  not  then  be  the  result,  but  the 
ground  of  the  imputation  of  His  righteousness. 

''  In  short,  the  doctrine  of  the  language  to  which  we  have  so  large- 
ly referred,  we  believe  to  be  this:  that  there  is  between  Christ  and 
the  believer,  not  merely  a  moral,  nor  even  a  spiritual  union  alone, 
as  this  latter  term  is  often  used  in  distinction  from  real  and  actual : 
but  a  real  union  in  the  highest  sense  of  that  term.  We  would  say 
a  phvsieal  union,  had  not  that  word  been  so  greatly  abused.  It  is, 
in  other  words,  an  inter-communion  of  spirit  with  spirit,  directlj'^ 
and  not  through  the  media  of  truth,  or  inflowings  of  something 
which  is  neither  truth  nor  spirit.  It  may  be  regarded  as  a  union 
of  nature  with  nature;  by  which,  however  incomprehensible  the 
process,  Christ's  humanity  becomes  our  humanity,  in  as  true, 
and  real,  and  intimate  manner,  as  we  are  psychologically  and  an- 
thropologically united  to  Adam,  the  natural  head  of  our  race,  from 
whom  our  natural  hnmanit}'  flows.  To  adopt  another  mode  of  ex- 
pression, Christianity  in  the  soul  is  a  new  Life  in  the  highest  sense 
of  that  term,  the  meaning  of  which  in  modern  theology  is  so  apt  to 
evnporate  in  figures.  It  is  something  below  exercises,  emotions, 
and  thoughts,  the  very  life  of  the  Redeemer  living  in  all  the  re- 
deemed, not  as  an  effect  or  influence  of  truth  or  of  some  external 
power,  but  as  an  absolute  independent  indwelling  life^  as  real  as 
that  old  life  which  was  imparted  to  Adam  when  he  la}^  a  passive 
and  lifeless  organism  in  the  garden  of  Eden. 

"We  wonder  not  that  those  who  den^-all  ps3'chological  unity, as 
existing  between  us  and  Adam,  who  deny  that  we  inherit  from  him 
a  depraved  nature,  or  that  the  sin  of  the  first  man  is,  in  any  sense, 
to  be  imputed  to  us  or  regarded  as  ours,  or  who-  have  discarded 
the  doctrine  of  original  sin  from  theology,  we  wonder  not  that 
such  should  see  nothing  but  irrational  mysticism  in  the  tenet  in 
question.  It  is,  however,  a  matter  of  great  surprise  that  those 
who  rigidl}-  maintain  the  opposite  view  on  all  these  points,  who 
hold  to  a  real  union  with  the  first  man,  a  real  traduction  from  him 
of  our  whole  natural  life  and  our  whole  material  humanity'  b}'  or- 
dinary gener'ation,  it  is,  we  sa}',  a  matter  of  great  surprise  that 
such  should  break  the  Apostle's  analogy,  should  make  a  mere  figure, 
or,  at  most,  a  mere  moral  influence  of  that  regeneration  by  which 
the  believer  is  transferred  to  a  new  life  and  arafted  into  the  hu- 


Chap.  XXV]  the  biblical  HErosiTORV  259 

mauity  of  the  second  Adam — the  Lord  from  heaven.  Botli,  in 
respect  to  the  mode  of  explanation,  may  ntterly  transcend  our 
highest  understanding;  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  we  cannot  see 
why  one  shoukl,  in  any  sense,  be  regarded  as  mere  figurative,  or 
less  real  than  the  other.  If  we  have,  in  theology,  one  more  sure 
guide  than  another  it  is  this  favorite  parallel  which  the  Apostle  is 
sp  fond  of  instituting  between  Christ  and  Adam.  If  original  sin 
is  something  more  than  the  following  or  the  imitation  of  Adam,  ^  as 
the  Pelagians  do  vainly  talk,''  then  regeneration,  nnion  to  Christ, 
living  in  Christ,  and  other  similar  expressions,  must  mean  tjxr  more 
than  being  followers  of  Christ,  or  under  the  influence  of  truth  re- 
vealed by  His  teaching,  or  being  affected  by  His  death,  as  a  moral 
display  of  the  Divine  justice — or,  in  short,  an}'  external  relation, 
however  high  or  supernatural  it  may  be. 

"  We  have  dwelt  on  this  because  we  believe  with  Dr.  Nevin,  that 
here  is  to  l)e  found  the  true  ground  of  that  churchly  feeling,  the 
resurrection  of  which  is  to  l)e  the  great  cure  for  our  broken  and  dis- 
tracted Zion.  There  can  l)e  no  hope  that  an}-  system  of  truth,  as 
mere  truth,  will  effect  this.  The  feeling  of  real  union  to  Christ's 
humanit}-,  and  of  real  brotherhood  in  respect  to  each  other,  bound 
together  the  Christians  of  the  primitive  Church.  In  time,  however, 
it  became  itself  a  dogma,  instead  of  the  life  of  all  other  truths,  just 
as  the  great  principle  of  the  Reformers,  justification  by  faith,  sunk 
down  in  time  into  justification  by  belief  in  justif  cation  by  faith. 
As  a  mere  dogma  it  soon  became  allied  to  the  false  and  pernicious 
doctrine  of  a  priesthood,  through  which  alone,  it  was  believed,  the 
life  of  Christ  could  be  transmitted  to  the  soul,  and  any  true  union 
witli  Him  could  be  effected.  Along  with  this  came  the  profanation 
of  that  sacrament  so  vitally  connected  with  the  doctrine  of  the  mys- 
tical union.  Instead  of  being  regarded  as  a  sign  of  a  reality,  or 
symbolical  of  the  union  of  Christ  with  all  believers,  or  of  the  real 
presence  of  his  humanity  in  their  humanity,  it  was  made  subservient 
to  ecclesiastical  ambition,  and  its  eflicacy  was  held  to  depend  on 
certain  words  and  forms  of  consecration  uttered  by  persons  in  a 
certain  line  of  succession. 

"  Still  we  believe  it  is  a  truth,  which  is  clearh"  set  forth  in  the 
writings  of  Calvin,  and  also  in  the  Catechism  and  Articles  of  the 
Reformed  Dutch  Church,  and  what  is  of  more  account,  that  it  is, 
and  must  be,  a  living  principle  in  the  hearts  of  all  p]vangelical 
Christians.  "What  Churches  exhibit  more  of  the  life  of  this  truth? 
"Who  are  more  fond  of  those  passages  in  the  Scriptures,  which 
speak  of  the  union  of  Christ  with  believers?     Compare  their  books 


2G0  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1841-1853  [PiV.   IX 

of  devotion  and  experimental  religion.  Again,  enter  a  Wesle^'an 
prayer  meeting :  how  fond  are  the  truly  pious  there  of  talking  of 
the  blessed  union  with  the  Kedeemer — of  Christ  fo.rmed  Avithin 
them  the  hope  of  glory.  Listen  to  the  experience  of  the  newly  re- 
generated. With  what  fondness  do  the  new-born  souls,  when  the}^ 
first  begin  to  speak  the  language  of  Heaven,  turn  to  these  expres- 
sions so  thickl3^  spread  over  the  New  Testament.  The  most  illiter- 
ate of  men  have  been  known  thus  to  talk  of  being  united  to  God 
and  Christ,  in  a  style  that  might  remind  us  of  Augustine  or  Thomas 
a  Kempis.  But  what  does  all  this  prove,  it  may  be  said,  as  long  as 
the  expressions  are  regarded  as  figurative,  and  it  is  admitted  that 
the  corresponding  dogma  is  not  generally  maintained?  It  shows, 
we  reply,  that  the  life  may  be  stronger  than  the  dogma.  When, 
however,  the  doctrine  wholly  perishes,  there  is  reason  to  fear  that 
so  far  as  communities  are  concerned,  the  life  also  may  go  out, 
although  it  will  never  be  lost  from  those  individual  souls  in  which 
it  has  once  been  kindled. 

"  If  the  mystical  union  then  be  a  real  truth  of  Scripture,  and  if  it 
be  that  from  which  theological  truths  derive  their  meaning  and  im- 
portance, it  certainly  should  be  placed  in  the  front  rank  of  theolog}'. 
Especiall}'  is  it  of  moment  in  regard  to  this  great  and  vexed  ques- 
tion of  the  Church.  Can  the  bod}'  of  Christ  be  otherwise  than  both 
spiritually  and  visibly  one,  when  Christians  universally  l)elieve  and 
feel  that  they  partake  of  one  common  life,  instead  of  attempting  to 
build  their  unity  on  a  common  system  of  truths;  and  will  not  a 
common  system  of  truths,  to  an}'  extent  that  may  seem  necessary 
or  desirable,  come,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  follow  such  a  convic- 
tion of  a  common  life  in  a  common  Redeemer?" 

But  whilst  the  quarterly  reviews  were  thus  discussing  the  Prin- 
ciple of  Protestantism'  and  its  contents,  the  discussion  took  a  Made 
range  in  the  religious  newspapers  of  the  day,  and  articles  on  the 
m3'stical  union,  the  Eucharist  and  kindred  topics,  flew  thick  and 
fast  through  the  Weekly  Messenger.  The  paper  literally  groaned  un- 
der the  weight  of  longer  or  shorter  theological  essa3's,and  as  there 
was  no  room  for  some  objectionable  ones,  they  were  sent  to  the 
Ghrisfniii  Intenigencer, the  organ  of  the  sister  Reformed  Church  in 
New  York.  The  writer  of  one  of  these  articles  attempted  to  show 
what  the  doctrine  of  the  Gei-man  Reformed  Church  on  the  Lord's 
Supper  was,  in  wliich  he  stumbled  at  the  idea  that  believers  partake 
of  the  human  as  well  as  Divine  nature  of  Christ,  and  regarded  it 
"as  something  novel  or  at  least  unnecessarily  mystical."  The  arti- 
cle happened  to  catch  the  eye  of  a  Congregational  minister  some- 


Chap.  XXV]  the  biblical  RErosrroRY  261 

where  in  Connecticut,  who  had  clearer  and  more  definite  ideas  in  ref- 
erence to  the  subject.  Jle  therefore  prepared  a  number  of  essays 
on  the  Eucharist,  for  the  benefit  of  the  stumbling  writer  and  others 
of  little  faith.  On  account  of  their  length,  or.  for  other  reasons, 
they  were  not  admitted  into  the  Intelligencer,  wheveui>on,  b}'  per- 
mission of  the  author,  a  respectable  minister  of  the  Reformed 
Dutch  Church  sent  them  to  the  Messenger  for  insertion.  They 
ai)peared  in  four  numbers  of  the  paper,  showed  superior  learning, 
were  about  as  long  as  Dr.  Xevin's  articles,  were  in  striking  har- 
mony with  his  views,  evinced  similar  ability  with  his,  and  were 
read  with  more  than  ordinary  avidit}'.  As  coming  from  the  land 
of  the  Puritans  the}'  were  phenomenal,  showing  that  the  sacra- 
mental question  was  studied  in  Connecticut  in  those  daA-s  no  less 
than  in  Pennsylvania.  The  writer  signed  himself  W.  "W.  A.,  which 
was  understood  to  be  the  Rev.  W.  W.  Andrews,  now  residing  at 
Hartford,  Conn.,  and  occupying  a  high  position  in  the  '•  Catholic 
Apostolic  Church  "  in  this  country. 

The  respected  writer  proceeds  to  show  that  "  no  investigation  is 
fundamental  which  does  not  start  from  the  doctrine  of  the  Word 
made  Flesh,  the  central  truth  of  Christianity,  which  is  the  ke}^  to  the 
right  understanding  of  the  Church,  and  the  power  of  its  sacraments." 
With  such  a  ke}'  he  maintained  that  the  Eucharist  is  the  fruit  of 
the  Incarnation,  and  that  this  view  was  in  harmony  with  the  letter 
and  spirit  of  the  Xew  Testament,  the  faith  of  the  ancient  Church, 
and  that  of  the  Reformers.  Summing  up  his  arguments,  his  con- 
tention Avas  that  Regeneration  is  a  great  spiritual  mystery,  grow- 
ing out  of  the  Incarnation,  consisting  essentiall}-  in  the  implanting 
of  a  seed  of  life  derived  from  the  glorious  humanity  of  Christ  and 
involving  in  itself  the  germ  of  the  resurrection  state,  of  a  redeemed 
body  and  a  redeemed  soul;  that  the  life  of  Jesus,  thus  existing  in 
the  regenerate,  must  be  sustained  and  strengthened  l)y  a  true  and 
vital  reunion  with  TTim,  who  is,  in  his  manhood,  the  fountain  of  all 
grace  and  strength  in  them  that  Ijclieve ;  that  tlie  sacrament  of  the 
Eucharist  was  ordained  for  tiiis  new  and  regenerate  life;  and  that 
there  is,  in  the  right  reception  of  it,  a  real  participation  of  the  body 
and  blood  of  the  Lord,  or  in  other  words,  of  this  glorified  humanity. 
Such  a  view  the  writer  maintains  is  equi-distant  from  the  Romish 
doctrine  of  Transubstantiation  and  the  modern  theorj'  that  repre- 
sents the  sacraments  as  bare  and  inefiectual  signs.  The  views  here 
advanced  would,  as  we  think,  have  met  with  the  endorsement  of 
many  Dutch  Reformed  divines  at  that  da}-,  if  the}'  had  liad  an  op- 
portunity to  read  them  in  their  own  paper.     They  no  douT)t  served 


262  AT    MEI^CERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

as  a  health}'  stimulus  to  Dr.  Nevin  in  writing  his  more  elal)orate 
work  on  the  Mystical  Presence. 

The  year  1845  had  been  a  3'ear  of  considerable  excitement  in 
theological  circles,  during  which,  at  times,  the  vessel  of  the  Church 
api^eared  to  be  tempest-tossed,  and  in  danger  of  being  submerged  or 
broken  into  fragments  ;  but  it  ended  well.  The  Professors  felt  that 
they  had  been  fully  sustained,  and  the  membership  believed  that 
they  had  experienced  helmsmen  to  guide  the  ship.  It  was  at  this 
time  that  Dr.  Nevin  allowed  one  of  his  poetical  effusions  to  be 
published  in  the  Messenger,  which  he  had  written  when  as  yet  the 
more  urgent  theological  questions  of  the  day  had  not  so  fully  pre- 
occupied his  time  and  attention.  With  a  slight  addition  at  the 
conclusion,  it  was  deemed  a  suitable  paper  for  a  Carrier's  Address, 
at  the  opening  of  the  New  Year.  As  it  may  be  of  interest  to  our 
readers,  we  insert  it  in  this  place,  where  it  may  serve  as  an  intro- 
duction to  the  theological  discussions  and  conflicts  that  filled  out 
the  next  3'ear : 

TIME— A  FRAGMENT 

How  deepl}^  silent  is  the  flight  of  Time  ! 

And  yet  how  awful !  Methinks  the  rolling  sound 

Of  all  earth's  thunders,  blending  with  its  course. 

Was  not  so  stirring  to  the  wakeful  soul. 

As  when,  with  noiseless  sweep,  days,  months  and  j-ears, 

Big  with  the  fate  of  nations  and  of  worlds. 

Tell  us  as  they  do  it  rushing  way.     So  still. 

Even  as  the  breath  of  summer,  Avhen  it  steals 

Soft  o'er  the  brow  of  night,  and  not  a  leaf 

AYhispers  its  presence,  save  when  the  aspen 

Trembles — so  still  and  deathlike  is  the  force, 

By  which  the  circling  planets,  moved  of  God, 

Hold  their  eternal  orbits  round  the  sun. 

These  as  they  traverse  with  their  burning  speed 

The  deep  immense  of  space,  form  to  the  mind 

An  image  of  the  dreadful  and  the  grand, 

Embodied  in  no  form  of  sense  besides, 

And  by  their  very  silence  roll  contempt 

On  whirlwinds,  earthquakes,  cataracts  and  storms. 

And  they  are  all  an  emblem  in  their  flight 

Of  the  more  awful  course  of  Time ;  ordained 

To  chronicle  from  age  to  age  its  years. 

And  showing  in  the  law  in  which  they  move 

A  shadow  of  its  grandeur  and  its  strength. 

And  hat  a  shadow ;  for  the  streaming  scope 

Of  Saturn,  or  the  Georgian  world  extreme. 

At  thought  of  which  the  soul  recoils  aghast. 

Must  shrink  to  nothing  here.     The  flow  of  Time 


Chap.  XXVJ  the  flight  of  time  263 

Is  the  broad  universe  of  space  itself 
In  motion.     Worlds  are  only  wheeling  specks 
That  play  in  its  ambient  sea ;  and  suns    • 
That  hold  revolving  systems  in  their  place 
Are  with  the  spheres  they  rule  mere  eddies  there, 
Each  sweeping  its  own  range,  but  all  alike 
Imbosomed  in  the  same  deep,  broad  expanse. 
Whose  lucent  tide,  scarce  ruffled  ])y  their  force, 
Bears  them  still  onward  with  its  rolling  age. 

Time !   Time!  Ah  me,  the  thrilling  thoughts  that  lie 

Bodied  in  that  one  word  !  The  mighty  Past ; 

Deep  centuries  of  life  for  ever  gone — 

The  strength  of  nations  buried  in  the  dust — 

The  world's  young  image,  wasted  like  a  dream — 

The  plans  of  men,  whelmed  in  oblivion's  gulf — 

The  fate  of  ages,  seated  beyond  control — 

Thrones  crumbled — cities,  laws,  tongues,  empires  lost ; 

The  drama  of  their  history  closed  in  death. 

And  none  to  tell  its  record !  Dread  abyss  ! 

Who  but  must  tremble,  when  its  dark  profound, 

Shoreless,  and  fathomless,  and  void  of  form, 

Stands  out  in  vision  to  his  laboring  e3'e  ! 

The  Future  too,  more  deeply  pregnant  still 

With  all  the  elements  of  moral  awe ; 

Mysteries  untold,  and  wonderful,  and  deep 

And  reaching  their  effect  to  farthest  climes, 

And  worlds  of  men  unborn ;  slumberings  of  power. 

That  yet  shall  move  and  heave  through  all  its  parts 

Life's  ancient  structure,  and  impress  new  forms. 

As  though  the  very  earth  and  heaven  had  changed. 

On  the  whole  state  of  nations  ;  coming  facts 

Not  3'et  omened  by  signs  that  teach  the  wise, 

And  such  as  throw  no  shadow  yet  in  front, 

Destined  hereafter  to  absorb  all  thought 

Of  human  spirits,  and  become  high  themes 

For  wonder  and  discourse  with  angels;  all, 

That  shall  be  known  or  felt  or  done  in  life. 

The  light  and  darkness,  hopes,  fears,  sorrows,  joj'S, 

Of  countless  millions  that  shall  sweep  their  age, 

In  quick  succession,  pressing  to  the  tomb, 

liike  shadows  hurried  o'er  some  wide-spread  plain. 

When  all  day  long  careering  clouds  are  seen 

On  Autumn's  fitful  sky!    Prospect  immense, 

And  full  of  shuddering  grandeur  to  the  mind 

In  contemplation  stretched  Avith  vain  attempt 

To  grasp  its  limits!     Oh,  the  depth  of  Time, 

When  Pai<t  and  Future^  folding  worlds  of  power, 

Stupendous,  boundless,  overwhelming  forms. 

Lie  Avraj)!  together  as  one  single  thought, 

And  make  one  dreadful  word  their  common  home! 


2G4  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

The  flow  of  Time:     'Tis  striving  to  the  soul, 
To  stand  in  vision  on  some  towering  point, 
The  index  of  its -way — as  where  two  years. 
The  coining  and  the  gone,  are  seen  to  touch 
With  opposite  extremes — and  thence  to  gaze 
Far  o'er  the  prospect,  as  it  pours  along 
With  deep  majestic  volume  from  above 
And  fills  the  tract  below!     The  rolling  flood 
Of  vast  Niagara,  where  its  waters  leap. 
With  endless  torrent,  dark,  compressed  and  loud. 
To  that  dread  verge,  which  marks  their  dizzy  fall, 
Holds  to  the  ej'e,  in  all  its  sphere  sublime, 
No  scene  like  this.     Nor  yet  the  ocean  waste. 
Or  where  its  billows  sleep  or  where  they  rage. 
In  broad  and  awful  majesty  spread  forth. 
Soul-swelling  contemplation!     Nor  the  storm 
That  moves  in  blackness  through  the  troubled  sk}'. 
And  seems  the  burden  of  the  wrath  of  God, 
Instinct  with  living  terror,  folding  deep. 
Winds,  vapors,  lightnings,  thunders  in  its  womb. 
All  are  tame  spectacles,  devoid  of  force 
And  narrow  in  their  forms,  when  here  compared, 
Though  else  august  and  dreadful!     So  far  Time 
Outswells  in  greatness  all  their  flowing  strength. 
And  drowns  their  triumph  with  its  vaster  thought. 

A  Year — a  single  Year — how  much  it  means ! 

Oh,  who  shall  tell  what  changes  have  been  wrought 

Within  the  rolling  compass  of  the  last ! 

The  world  has  moved;  it  stands  not  where  it  did. 

Though  sun  and  moon  and  planets  seem  the  same, 

And  the  broad  universe  of  life  unchanged. 

The  volume  of  its  being,  vast  and  full. 

Has  travelled  onward ;  nearer  to  the  point, 

Ordained  of  God,  where  3'et  in  time  to  come, 

The  history  of  all  its  years  must  end. 

Merged  in  eternal  night.     The  nations  too. 

That  animate  the  world,  and  with  their  stir 

Crowd  it  from  age  to  age,  have  changed  their  place. 

And  moved  with  like  motion.     They  are  not  now 

In  state  or  opening  prospect  as  they  were ; 

Thought  has  gone  forward,  and  beneath  its  power. 

Silent  and  deep,  the  ancient  forms  of  life 

Have  all  been  shaken.     Men  have  lost  their  awe 

Of  shadows  once  held  sacred,  and  are  found 

More  free  to  question  all  the  modes  of  soul 

In  which  they  lived  before.     Mind  has  met  mind; 

And  knowledge,  kindling  from  the  warm  embrace. 

Has  multiplied  its  powers,  and  far  and  wide 

AVith  new-born  freedom  bursting  old  restraints. 

Pours  its  felt  presence  over  realms  of  thought 


Chap.  XXV]  the  flight  of  time  2G5 

Oiu't'  from  its  dark  empire  barbarous  and  strange. 

The  spirit  of  the  age,  wliioh  many  days 

Have  formed  and  nourished  to  its  present  shape, 

Has  still  advanced,  and  elements  of  strength 

That  through  centuries  have  worked  apart, 

Display  new  order,  and  with  awful  haste 

As  now  beheld  rushing  in  all  their  parts 

To  form  one  system;  whose  immense  design, 

No  longer  wi-apt  in  night,  shall  sweep  the  globe, 

And  channel  deep  through  eveiy  age  to  come 

A  pathway  for  the  flowing  waves  of  fate. 

A  revolution,  not  by  thundering  war, 

But  bv  the  force  of  truth,  is  on  its  wa}' — 

More  grand,  and  solemn,  and  replete  with  power 

Than  all  the  noise  of  overflowing  death 

Spread  over  nations  by  the  conqueror's  march ; 

This  has  made  progress ;  and  its  stages  stamp 

Deep  interest  on  the  buried  year,  not  found 

In  storied  page  of  battles  big  with  blood. 

Of  sieges  and  assaults,  and  cities  sacked. 

Or  lands  made  waste  b}-  fire.     The  world  reveals 

Strange  symptoms  of  a  latent  power  at  work. 

And  owns  its  presence  now  in  ever}'  clime. 

The  social  s^-stem  heaves;  the  ground  is  reached, 

On  which  its  pillars  stand,  planted  of  old, 

And  they  are  seen  to  rock,  as  though  at  last 

Their  massive  forms  would  tremble  from  their  place. 

Time-consecrated  towers,  around  whose  strength 

Whirlwinds  and  storms  have  swept  and  were  not  felt, 

For  ages,  tremble  now  at  times  and  groan 

Through  their  Avhole  piles,  as  though  an  earthquake  shook 

Their  broad  foundations.     X^obles  start  with  fear. 

Lest  their  own  palaces  should  prove  their  graves; 

And  kings  grow  pale  to  find  their  very  thrones 

On  which  they  sit,  as  by  some  hidden  force, 

Tottering  and  leaning  to  disastrous  fall. 

And  it  were  well,  if  all  this  moral  show 

Portended  only  good,  the  rise  of  truth. 

The  growth  of  knowledge,  and  the  battle  won 

For  freedom's  holy  cause  throughout  the  world. 

But  signs  of  terror,  too,  and  dark  dismay. 

That  threaten  men's  best  hopes,  and  point  to  days 

Black  Mith  the  curse  of  God,  o'erhang  the  heavens 

And  may  be  read  by  all.     The  times  are  strange, 

Pregnant  with  promise,  yet  infolding  wrath; 

The  rainbow  written  on  the  storm-cloud's  sleep. 

That  owes  its  glory  to  the  self-same  sky. 

Where  lightnings  i)lay  and  thunders  have  their  home. 

The  world  lias  reached  its  Crisis.  ****** 

—  Csetera  des-unt. 
IT 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  action  of  the  83^100!  of  York,  a  somewhat  trying  ordeal  to 
Dr.  Schaff,  proved  to  be  of  advantage  to  him  afterward.  It 
was  a  useful  introduction  to  one  side  of  the  genius  and  spirit  of 
America,  whilst  it  taught  him  that  there  was  another  side  on  which, 
he  could  labor.  Thus  he  knew  where  he  stood,  and  was  assured 
that  he  would  be  sustained  in  his  mission  and  work  in  this  new  world. 
The  future  spread  out  before  him  in  bright  colors,  and  he  felt 
strengthened  and  encouraged  to  labor  with  all  the  industry  and  per- 
severance of  the  true  German  scholar.  There  may  have  been  some 
tinge  of  romance  about  his  ardor  to  suppl}'  the  Americans  generally 
with  the  most  valuable  results  of  German  theology.  At  least  he 
must  have  so  impressed  Dr.  Krummacher  some  years  afterwards 
at  Berlin,  whilst  he  dilated  on  his  prospective  labors  and  use- 
fulness in  America.  The  great  preacher,  whose  judgment  was 
matured  by  age  and  expei'ience,  turned  to  his  3'oung  friend  at  the 
dinner  table  and  told  him  to  take  care,  as  "  America  had  a  big 
stomach  and  could  swallow  him  up  too." 

After  he  had  thus  received  a  free  pass  from  his  brethren  to 
scatter  the  seeds  of  German  science  vipon  American  soil,  he  went 
to  work  with  characteristic  industry,  wrote  out  his  lectures  on 
Church  History  and  Exegesis  for  the  benefit  of  his  small  classes 
as  thoroughl}' — as  vollstaendlich  und  gruendlich — as  if  he  were  lec- 
turing to  the  largest  audience  of  studiosi  in  the  Universities  at 
Halle  or  Berlin.  In  1848  he  founded  Z)er  Deutsche  Kirchenfreund: 
Ein  Organ  fuer  die  gemeinsamen  Interessen  der  Amerikanisch- 
deutachen  Kirchen.  It  proved  to  be  a  very  valuable  theological 
monthly,  and,  at  the  same  time,  a  useful  organ  for  the  two  German 
Churches.  It  remained  under  his  editorial  care  for  some  seven  or 
eight  years,  when  Dr.  W.  J.  Mann,  of  Philadelphia,  became  editor. 
In  1851  Dr.  Schaff  published  his  "History  of  the  Apostolic  Church," 
which  was  to  be  the  first  volume  of  his  Church  History,  and  to 
serve  as  an  introduction  to  the  entire  work.  This  with  the  Kirchen- 
freund was  published  at  Mercersburg — in  the  German  language — 
auf  Selbstverlag  des  Yerfassers — and  for  this  purpose  it  became 
necessary  to  import  both  type  and  printer.  Of  this  work  the 
Princeton  Review  said,  "it  placed  its  author  in  the  highest  rank  of 
living  or  contemporary  Church  Historians."     Dr.  Nevin  begins  his 

(266) 


Chap.  XXVI]  ebrard  on  the  mystical  presence  207 

notice  of  it  in  the  Mercersburg  Beview  by  saying  that  "the  appear- 
ance of  this  work  deserves  to  be  considered  certain!}-  something  of 
an  event;"  and  Dr.  Kranth,  in  the  Evangelical  Review,  at  Gettys- 
burg, referring  to  this  curt  criticism  said  :  "  We  feel  prepared  to  say 
more,  and  to  designate  it  as  very  much  of  an  cA'ent,  an  event  which 
will  reflect  lasting  credit  on  the  author  and  exert  a  beneficial  in- 
fluence on  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ."  The  subsequent  career  of 
Dr.  Schaff  as  an  author  isnvell  known,  fulh'  justifying  the  favorable 
opinion  which  the  Princeton  Bevierv  gave  of  him  at  an  earl}'  day  as 
a  scholar  and  Church  historian.  He  was  not  formed  for  contro- 
versy, l)ut  he  had  a  colleague  by  his  side,  who  by  his  knowledge 
of  the  secret  resources  of  the  English  language,  his  wit,  and  at 
times  his  withering  sarcasm,  seldom  met  a  foeman  worthy  of  his 
steel,  when  attacks,  from  many  directions,  were  made  upon  the  head- 
quarters of  Anglo-German  theology  at  Mercersburg. 

After  the  denouement  of  the  Synod  of  York,  Dr.  SchafF's  In- 
augural and  the  Sermon  on  Catholic  Unity  were  discussed,  as 
already  said,  more  or  less,  by  the  religious  weeklies,  and  numerous 
articles  appeared  in  the  Messenger,  most  of  which  referred  to  the 
mystical  union  of  Christ  with  believers  as  set  forth  in  Dr.  Nevin's 
discourse  on  Catholic  Unity.  To  some  of  these  it  became  neces- 
sary for  him  to  reply,  especially  to  those  proceeding  from  the  pen 
of  Dr.  15erg,  Avho  kept  up  a  chivalrous  contest  with  his  opponent 
at  Mercersburg,  wliich  was  much  less  violent  than  when  he  hurled 
his  bolts  against  the  Pope  at  Rome.  Impressed  with  the  import- 
ance of  the  subject  in  its  bearings  on  the  cause  of  religion  and 
sound  theology.  Dr.  Nevin  felt  that  it  demanded  a  more  extended 
and  a  more  scientific  treatment,  and  accordingly,  in  the  spring  of 
1846,  he  published  The  3Iystical  Presence :  a  Vindication  of  the 
Reformed  or  Calvinistic  Doctrine  of  the  Holy  Eucharist.  Pp.  256. 
Lippincott  k  Co.,  Philadelphia.  The  volume  was  not  a  very 
large  one,  but  it  contained  a  vast  amount  of  thought  and  learning, 
more  so  than  many  volumes  of  a  much  more  ambitious  size.  It 
was  a  valuable  contribution  to  Araei'ican  theological  literature,  in 
itself  a  theological  treatise,  which  summed  up  and  expressed  the 
substance  of  all  previous  discussions.  It  was  introduced  by  an 
excellent  article  from  the  pen  of  Dr.  Carl  Ullman,  Professor  of 
Theology  in  the  University  of  Heidelberg,  Germany,  at  the  time, 
on  "The  Distinctive  Character  of  Christianity,"  well  worthy  of  be- 
ing carefully  studied  still  by  tho^e  who  take  an  interest  in  the 
present  state  of  the  Church.  It  had  appeared  in  the  January  nvim- 
ber  of  the    Theologische  Studien  itnd  Kritiken,  a  learned  German 


268  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

periodical,  for  the  3'ear  1845.  It  proceeds  throughout  on  the  gen- 
eral theory  of  Christianit}^  as  the  divine  human  power  in  the  world, 
as  emphasized  by  the  Mercersburg  theologians. 

Among  the  various  reviews  of  the  Mystical  Presence  we  here  re- 
fer to  only  two,  both  emanating  from  representative  scholars  of  ac- 
'    knowledged  ability,  one  in  Germany  and  the  other  in  this  countr}'. 
The  German  review  is  here  introduced,  although  it  appeared  some 
time  after  the  American. 

Dr.  August  Ebrard  published  his  recension  in  the  Studien  und 
'  Kritiken  in  the  year  18.50,  which  was  soon  afterwards  republished 
in  the  June  number  of  Dr.  Schaff's  Kirclienfreund  in  this  coun- 
try-. The  judgement  of  such  a  theologian  as  Ebrard,  who  was  him- 
self the  author  of  the  most  thorough  and  learned  histor}'  of  the 
Dogma  of  the  Lord's  Supper  in  modern  times,  was  of  great  value, 
infinitely  more  so  than  the  cry  of  heresy  shriekers  from  whole 
brigades  of  newspaper  critics,  who  did  not  understand  the  nature 
of  the  controvers}^  into  which  they  were  ready  to  plunge,  and  with- 
out the  necessary  qualification  to  devote  to  it  either  earnest  at- 
tention or  the  necessary  learning.  Owing  to  distance  from  the 
scene  of  conflict  or  want  of  insight  into  the  state  of  churqJa  rela- ,  ^ 
.'^tions  in  this  country,  Ebrard  strangeh^  regarded  the  Viiiclica'frfb'n  as 
a  defence  of  the  Melanchthonian  view  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  more 
particularly  in  opposition  to  the  Lutherans  of  this  country;  where- 
as it  is  maiul}'  directed  against  what  is  regarded  as  the  pi'evalent 
rationalism  underlying  modern  Puritan  theology,  which,  whilst  it 
adheres  to  an  old  traditional  orthodoxy  and  manifests  in  a  high 
degree  great  moral  earnestness  and  a  commendable  degree  of  prac- 
tical activit}^  is  to  be  honorably  distinguished  from  the  dead  and 
dry  rationalism  of  Germany.  But,  like  the  latter,  it  divests  Chris- 
tianit}',  more  or  less,  of  its  m3'stical  element,  makes  the  abstract 
understanding  the  chief  judge  in  theology,  and  to  a  large  degree 
ignores  the  idea  of  the  Church  and  the  Sacraments.  The  Lutheran- 
ism  of  this  country,  under  a  semi-rationalistic  tendency,  had  fallen 
in  some  degree  from  its  own  original  pietistic  stand-point  into  open 
contradiction  with  its  own  history,  whilst  Dr.  Nevin,  on  the  other 
hand,  in  foet,  defended  the  substance,  although  not  the  form  of 
Luther's  doctrine,  against  many  of  his  nominal  adherents.  More- 
over, a  decided  reaction  had  already  taken  place  among  American 
\  Lutherans,  which  was  owing,  parti}-  at  least,  to  Dr.  Nevin's  writings. 

Ebrard  ought,  perhaps,  to  have  pointed  out  more  definitely  the 
connection  of  Dr.  Nevin's  theor^^  of  the  Lord's  Supper  with  his 
Christologv.     For,  after  all,  his  entire   theological   system    rests 


Chap.  XXVI]   ebrai?d  on  tiik  mystical  presence  209 

upon  his  doctrine  of  tlie  person  of  (Mirist  as  the  :\hsolute  union  of 
the  human  and  divine,  from  which  proceeds  the  new  moral  crea- 
tion, of  which  tlie  Church  is  the  bearer  or  receptacle;  and  its  means 
of  grace,  the  channels  ordained  by  God  to  bring  men  into  com- 
munication with  Himself  through  Christ.  As  p]brard  was  a  repre- 
sentative man  in  Germany  his  critique  will  serve  to  show  how  the 
new  work  was  regarded  by  evangelical  theologians  in  Germany. 
Afterwards  we  will  see  how  it  was  received  in  its  own  country. 
With  these  preliminar}'  remarks  we  therefore  furnish  the  reader 
with  the  German  review  of  Dr.  Nevin's  book  in  a  free  translation, 
with  slight  omissions. 

"  The  theological  literature  of  North  America  as  a  whole,"  Dr. 
Ebrard  remarks,  "lies  at  a  remote  distance  from  Germany,  but 
the  Mystical  Presence  of  Dr.  Xevin  is  a  phenomenal  exception  and 
deserves  the  attention  of  its  theologians  and  scholars.  In  the  first 
place,  it  is  the  first  energetic  effort  to  introduce  scientific  German 
theology  and  its  results  into  the  English  world  of  America. 
Dr.  Xevin,  from  his  youth  upwards,  imbued  with  the  Puritanic- 
Presbyterian  faith  of  his  earl^^  associations  on  the  one  hand,  and 
on  the  other,  furnished  with  a  thorough  knowledge  of  German  the- 
ological literature  in  its  latest  results,  was  just  the  man  to  solve 
what  was  hy  no  means  an  easy  problem.  His  book  was  an  achieve- 
ment, a  feat  of  personal  courage,  which  has  already  drawn  upon  it 
the  most  violent  opposition.  North  American  Puritanism,  with  its 
abstract  supernaturalism,  has  largely  risen  up  against  him  and  de- 
nounced him  as  a  Puseyite  or  Crypto-papist. 

"  In  the  next  i)lace  he  has  defended  that  view  of  the  Unio  3Iysfica, 
which  involes  a  continuous,  central  life-communion  of  Christ  with 
believers,  and  of  the  Holy  Supper  as  an  act  by  w'hich  this  perpetual 
life-union  is  strengthened — substantially  the  Melanchthonian  view — 
more  particularly  against  the  Lutherans  of  this  countr}',  just  as 
the  writer  had  to  contend  for  this  same  conception  in  a  scientific 
contention  with  the  Lutherans  of  German^'.  Strange  to  say,  how- 
ever, the  Lutherans  in  America  did  not  set  up  against  Dr.  Nevin 
the  view  of  Luther  himself,  but  that  of  Zwingli,  and,  accordingh', 
did  not  accuse  him  of  Zwinglianism,  but  of  Crypto-llomanism. 
This  remark  was  confirnu'd  by  the  Liiilwran  Obscrrer  of  Baltimoiv, 
wiiich  had  called  tlie  Nevinian  doctrine  by  the  hardest  names  wliich 
it  could  find  in  its  vocabulary  :  'the  figment  of  an  idea,  the  low, 
meagre,  mystical,  confused,  carnal,  obsolete  doctrine,  called  con- 
corporation.  Tiie  glorified  l>ody  of  Christ  must  be  received  by  be- 
lievers with  the  bread  and  wine!   If  this  is  not  a  corporeal  presence, 


210  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

what  kind  of  sense  then  does  such  an  expression  contain?  If  this  is 
not  Puseyism,  if  it  is  not  a  vast  stride  towards  Romanism,  what  else 
can  it  be  ?  This  doctrine  grates  upon  the  ear,  wounds  the  feelings, 
offends  the  nnderstanding,  and  dissolves  the  unit}'  of  the  best  and 
most  spiritual  men  in  the  purest  Evangelical  Churches.' 

"In  the  third  place,  Dr.  Nevin's  work,"  according  to  Ebrard, 
"  possesses  not  onl}^  an  historical,  but  a  practico-dogmatic  interest. 
If  it  had  sought  to  set  forth  only  the  old  Calvinistic  doctrine  as 
something  already  complete,  and  to  defend  and  press  it  upon  the 
churches  in  America,  it  could  awaken  little  interest  or  attention  in 
Germany.  But  instead  of  that,  and  far  from  it,  it  seeks,  further- 
more, with  the  aid  of  categories  to  reconstruct  what  was  genuine 
gold  in  the  Calvinistic-Melanchthonian  view  of  the  Lord's  Supper, 
from  the  depth  of  a  new  faith  purified  by  German  science,  and  ap- 
.  plies  a  vigorous  criticism  to  what  was  dross  or  obscurity  of  ex- 
pression in  Calvin.  From  this  stand-point  he  falls  in  fully  with  the 
stand-point  I  had  adopted  in  mj'  Dogma  vom  lieiligen  Abendmahl.''^ 
It  seemed  to  the  German  Professor  something  in  the  highest  degree 
remarkable  and  to  him  ver}^  gratifying,  as  he  says  "  that  an  Amer- 
ican Professor,  in  his  entire  method  of  treatment,  as  well  as  in  his 
apprehension  of  the  Unio  Mystica  and  of  the  Sacrament,  even  in 
minute  details,  starting  from  the  same  principle,  arrived  at  the 
same  result  as  I  myself  did,  and  this  without  previous  concert  or 
design.  Dr.  Nevin  had  alread}^,  previous  to  the  year  1845,  devel- 
oped his  theory,  published  and  defended  it,  and  the  first  volume  of 
my  work  on  the  Lord's  Supper  had  not  reached  him  until  the  year 
1846,  whilst  he  was  engaged  in  elaborating  his  Mystical  Presence. 
He  could  still  utilize  the  volume,  but  only  to  fortify  the  positions, 
which  he  had"  reached  in  another  and  altogether  different  way.  At 
most  he  could  then  have  appropriated  only  certain  terms  or  dis- 
tinctions to  be  used  in  the  way  of  supplement.  So  much  the  more 
pleasant  and  gratifying  to  me  now  is  the  close  inward  agreement 
of  his  judgment  of  Calvin's  doctrine  of  the  Eucharist  with  my  own, 
which  he  could  not  as  j-et  have  known,  as  the  second  volume  of  my 
own  work,  published  in  1846,  did  not  come  into  his  hands  until  the 
year  following.  In  this  coincidence  we  have  a  proof  that  we  both 
were  here  laboring  not  to  promote  an  incidental  subjective  view  of 
our  own,  but  to  make  an  advance  in  the  development  of  the  same 
theologumenon  or  theme,  ^nd  so  for  a  third  reason,  we  bespeak 
the  interest  of  our  readers,  in  behalf  of  a  brief  and  concise  review 
of  Dr.  Nevin's  work." 

Dr.  Nevin  took  his  position  over  against  a  su])erficial  Puritanism, 


Chap.  XXVI]  ebrard  on  the  mystical  presence  271 

whilst  Ebnird,  on  the  other  hand,  hud  Lutherauism  and  its  confes- 
sional relations  in  his  eye.  The  former,  starting  from  a  purely  his- 
torical representation  of  a  Reformed  Church  doctrine,  undertook 
to  show  his  op])onents  that  their  Puritanical  view  had  no  claims  to 
be  called  Reformed,  and  much  less  Lutheran.  Accordingl3'  on  this 
ground  he  goes  on  to  give  a  positive  characterization  of  Puritanism 
in  its  inner  nature  in  Chap.  2;  brings  out  the  defects  of  the  old 
Reformed  doctrine;  presents  his  own  theory  as  a  positive  develop- 
ment; and  finally  justifies  it  out  of  the  Holy  Scriptures. 

"In  the  first  chapter,  Dr.  Nevin  sa^'S, 'that  Calvin  was  not  the 
author,  but  simply  the  finisher  of  the  Reformed  doctrine  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,'  which  agrees  with  what  I  have  said  in  the  second 
volume  of  m}'  own  work,  where  proofs  in  detail  will  be  found  that 
Calvin  brought  to  it  only  an  intuition  of  its  relativel}'  perfect  form, 
which  had  been  long  before  anticipated  b^-  Ilaner,  Bucer,  Brenz  and 
many  others  who  had  prepared  the  wa}^  for  it.  As  Dr.  Nevin  cor- 
rectly says,  everything  in  the  Reformed  doctrine  depends  on  the 
view  taken  of  the  M3'stical  Union  in  general.  Through  it  Calvino- 
Melanchthonianism  is  distinguished  from  Lutheranism,  because  in 
the  former  the  Holy  Supper  is  regarded  as  the  act  b}-  which  the 
one,  continuous  life  union  with  Chi-ist  is  renewed,  whilst  in  the 
latter,  it  is  a  new  kind  of  corporeal  union  with  the  bod}-  and  blood 
of  Christ,  in  addition  to  the  Unto  Mystica  as  a  pure  intellectual 
union.  This  union  is  more  than  a  moral  union — a  unio  moralis — 
more  than  a  legal  union — a  unio  legalis;  it  is  ver}'  truly  a  union 
with  the  living  Saviour  Himself,  with  the  fulness  of  His  glorified 
person,  which  is  present  with  us  through  the  Almighty  power  of 
the  Holy  Spirit;  and  in  fine,  it  is  not  a  union  merely  with  the  spirit 
or  divine  nature  of  Christ,  but  a  union  with  Christ  incarnate  in  our 
flesh  and  therefore  with  His  humanity,  so  that  we  have  part  in  the 
merits  and  benefits  of  Christ  because  we  have  part  in  His  substance. 

'•  On  the  other  side,  the  communion  in  the  Reformed  doctrine  is 
with  man,  not  with  a  thing,  not  with  bread  or  wine,  and  so  consub- 
stantiation  as  well  as  transubstantiation  is  set  aside.  The  body 
and  blood  of  Christ  are  not  connected  with  the  bread  and  wine,  but 
with  the  transaction  and  the  act  by  which  the  invisible  communica- 
tion to  us  of  the  glorified  humanity  of  Christ  is  connected  with  the 
act  of  the  external  imparting  and  receiving  of  the  bread  and  wine. 

■' Tills  connection,  however,  is.  objective,  says  Dr.  Xevin.  Faith 
does  not  give  the  Sacrament  its  power;  it  is  the  condition  of  its  ac- 
tivity for  the  recipient,  not  the  active  principle;"  to  which  Dr. 
Kbranl   adds:  "Cultivated   or   ploughed   grouiul   is  the   condition 


2Y2  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

under  which  the  seed  is  received,  but  uot  that  which  causes  the 
seed  to  come  forth."  Calvin  long  before  had  said  :  "  Nos  asseriraus 
omnibus  ajferi  in  Sacramento  Christi  corpus  et  sanguinem,  ut  soli 
fideles  inestimabili  hoc  thesauro /rwa??^»r." 

"  That  such  is  the  Reformed  doctrine  Dr.  Nevin  shows  b}^  numer- 
ous and  appropriate  passages  quoted  from  Calvin  and  the  Reformed 
Confessions.  Farel  sa}- s  that  the '  res  Sacramenti  is  bound  to  the 
sig7ium,  whether  the  latter  is  offered  to  believers  or  unbelievers ; ' 
and  ITrsinns  holds  the  same  view  of  the  Lord's  Sapper. 

"  In  the  second  chapter  Dr.  Nevin  gives  a  full  and  fair  statement 
of  the  modern  Puritan  doctrine  of  the  Lord's  Supper.  The  popu- 
lar theory,  as  maintained  by  numerous  leading  Puritan  divines 
who  are  quoted,  recognizes  no  kind  of  union  with  Christ  in  the 
Eucharist  except  a  spiritualistic  one,  which  is  the  product  of  a  new 
exercise  of  subjective  feith  and  subjective  devotion,  called  forth  by 
the  celebration  of  the  Supper.  The  image  of  Christ  in  the  mind, 
by  an  effort  on  the  part  of  the  communicant,  is  in  this  way  revived 
and  renewed.  The  character  of  the  ordinance  as  a  mysterj'  is  thus 
lost  sight  of  altogether  with  the  objective  power  of  the  Sacrament ; 
faith,  instead  of  being  a  condition,  becomes  the  active  cause;  the 
plowing  of  the  soil  is  no  longer  to  be  taken  as  the  precedent  condi- 
tion for  the  reception  of  the  celestial  germ,  as  it  is  in  no  need  of 
the  germinal  seed.  The  ploughing  itself  will  suffice  for  all  that. 
And  so  it  comes  to  no  union  with  the  person  but  with  the  spirit  of 
Christ  onl}',  not  with  Christ  incarnate,  but  with  the  divine  nature 
of  Christ. 

"Dr.  Nevin  then  affirms  that  this  theory  subjects  itself  to  an  i;n- 
favorable  judgment,  because  the  consensus  of  the  entire  primitive 
Church  is  opposed  to  it ;  but  he  also  points  out  that  under  this  as- 
pect Puritanism  must  have  a  natural  affinity  for  rationalism;  ex- 
ternally, as  the  history  of  the  school  of  Storr  and  Reinhard  proves; 
and  internally,  because  it  is  a  thorough  subjectivism,  involving  a 
disregard  for  history,  for  the  objective,  for  the  Church,  and  for  all 
outward  forms.  Its  goal  is  a  spiritualism,  which  too  often  takes 
its  beginning  in  the  spirit  but  ends  in  the  flesh. 

"  In  the  third  chapter  Dr.  Nevin  seeks  to  present  a  scientific  state- 
ment of  the  biblical  doctrine  of  the  Lord's  Supper.  He  begins  the 
work  of  formulating  it  with  a  critique  of  the  Cahnnistic  doctrine 
on  the  subject.  Although  on  the  whole  correct,  Calvin's  view 
nevertheless  seem  to  him,  in  the  way  it  is  presented,  to  involve  de- 
fects which  in  turn  endanger  its  very  substance.  In  the  first  place, 
he  does  not  make  a  sufficiently  clear  distinction  between  the  idea 


Chap.  XXVI]  ebrahd  on  the  mystical  puesente  2V3 

of  organic  law,  which  constitutes  the  proper  identity  of  a  human 
body,  and  the  material  volume  it  is  found  to  embrace  as  exhibited 
to  the  senses.  A  true  and  perfect  bod^-  must  indeed  appear  in  the 
form  of  organized  matter.  As  mere  law  it  can  have  no  i)roper 
reality.  IJut  still  the  matter,  apart  from  the  law.  is  in  no  sense  the 
body.  Only  as  it  is  found  to  be  transfused  with  the  active  presence 
of  the  law  at  ever^-  point,  and  in  this  way  filled  with  the  form  of 
life,  can  it  be  said  to  have  any  such  character;  and  then  it  is.  of 
course,  as  the  medium  simph"  by  which  what  is  inward  and  invisible 
is  enabled  to  gain  for  itself  a  true  outward  existence.  The  princi- 
ple of  the  body  as  a  system  of  life,  the  original  salient  point  of  its 
being  as  a  whole,  is  in  no  resi)ect  material.  A  real  communication 
between  the  body  of  Christ  and  the  bodies  of  saints,  therefore,  does 
not  imply  necessarily  the  gross  imagination  of  any  transition  of 
His  flesli  as  such  into  their  persons.  In  such  sense  as  this,  we  may 
sa}-,  without  twisting  our  Saviour's  words,  'the  flesh  proflteth  noth- 
ing,' and  here  precisely  comes  into  view  one  of  the  most  valid  and 
forcible  objections  to  the  dogma  of  the  Roman  Church,  as  well  as  to 
the  kindred  doctrine  of  Luther,  in  both  of  which  so  much  is  made 
to  hang  on  a  sort  of  tactual  participation  of  the  matter  of  Christ's 
body  in  the  Sacrament,  rather  than  in  the  law  simph'  of  his  true 
human  life.  This  is  urged  by  Calvin  himself  with  great  force  against 
the  ftilse  theories  in  question.  This  shows,  of  course,  that  he  was 
not  insensible  to  the  idea  of  the  distinction  now  mentioned  ;  a  point 
abundantly  manifest  besides  from  his  Avhole  way  of  representing 
the  subject  in  general.  Still  it  seems  to  have  been  a  matter  of  cor- 
rect feeling  Avith  him,  rather  than  of  clear  scientific  apprehension. 

"Thus  he  makes  too  much  account  perhaps  of  the  flesh  of  Christ 
under  a  local  form  (here  confined  to  the  right  hand  of  God  in 
heaven), as  the  seat  and  fountain  of  the  new  life  Avhich  is  to  be  con- 
veyed to  His  people;  and  the  attempt  which  is  then  made  to  bring 
the  two  parties  together,  notwithstand'ig  such  vast  separation  in 
space,  must  be  allowed  to  be  somcAvhat  awkward  and  violent.  In 
this  case  he  may  be  said  to  cut  the  knot,  which  his  speculation  fails 
to  solve.  Christ's  body  is  altogether  in  heaven  only.  How  then 
is  its  vivific  virtue  to  be  carried  into  the  believer?  By  the  miracu- 
lous energy  of  the  Holy  Spirit;  wliich,  however,  cannot  be  said  in 
the  case  so  much  to  bring  down  His  life  into  us,  as  it  serves  rather 
to  raise  us  in  the  exercise  of  faith  to  the  presence  of  the  Saviour 
on  high.  The  result,  however,  is  a  real  participation  always  in  His 
full  and  entire  humanity.  But  the  representation  is  confused  and 
brings  to  the  min<l  no  proper  satisfaction. 


274  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.    IX 

"  Dr.  Xevin  goes  on  to  sa}-,  that  the  real  communion  of  the  body 
of  Christ  does  not  involve  a  communication  of  the  matter  of  His 
flesh  and  blood,  but  an  inwrought  operation  of  the  law  of  the  life 
of.  Christ  into  the  sphere  of  our  individual  life.  The  life-centre  of 
Christ  must  take  hold  of  our  life-centres  as  peripheral  points  and 
become  central  in  us,  and  thus  reproduce  in  us  ps3'chic-somatic 
individual  life.  Calvin  felt  this  more  than  he  was  fully  conscious 
of,  and  therefore  he  exerted  himself  so  much  to  bring  us  into  con- 
nection with  the  really  separated  body  of  Christ,  and  postulated  a 
mystical  operation  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  whilst  He  still  wrought  onl}?^ 
throiTgh  the  subjective  faith  of  the  believers.  Here,  however,  Dr. 
Nevin  falls  into  contradiction  with  himself.  Elsewhere  he  acknowl- 
edges— recognizes  the  activity  of  the  Hol}^  Spirit  in  working  re- 
pentance and  faith  in  us,  metanoetic  and  mystica-anagenetic,  just 
as  far  as  he  admits  that  the  Unio  Mystica  also  takes  place  under 
the  operation  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  thus  he  goes  too  far  when 
he  blames  Calvin  because  he  speaks  of  the  H0I3"  Spirit  as  a  medi- 
ator between  Christ  and  believers.  But  it  is  certain  that  the  idea 
of  the  orcjanic  reproduction  of  the  law  of  the  life  of  Christ  in  be- 
lievers, already  dimly  foreshadowed  in  Gregory  of  Nj'ssa,  but  un- 
folded in  such  pre-eminent  style  by  Dr.  Nevin,  did  not  come  forth 
to  a  clear  consciousness  in  Calvin ;  and  it  is  true  that  he,  instead  of 
speaking  of  a  virtus  vivifica  carnis  Christi,  should  have  fallen  back 
rather  on  the  idea  of  the  organic  embodiment  of  Christ's  human  life. 

"Then,  in  the  second  place,  Calvin  does  not  emphasize  suffi- 
ciently the  unit}'  of  what  we  denominate  person,  both  in  the  case 
of  Christ  Himself  and  in  the  case  of  His  people.  He  dwells  too 
much  on  the  life-giving  power  of  the  fiesli  of  Christ  (as  if  this 
were  not  closely  bound  to  His  soul);  on  an  outflowing  of  this 
power,  instead  of  a  rejjroduction  of  the  psychic-somatic  as  well  as 
of  the  pneumatic  individual  life  of  Christ  in  the  individual  life  of 
believers;  and  on  the  side  of  man,  he  again  makes  the  soul  alone 
the  bearer  of  Christ,  whilst  Christ  Himself  passes  over  into  the 
persons  of  believers.  Christ's  person  is  one,  and  the  person  of  the 
believer  is  one :  and  to  secure  a  real  communication  of  the  whole 
human  life  of  the  first  over  into  the  personality  of  the  second,  it  is 
only  necessary  that  the  communication  should  spring  from  the 
centre  of  Christ's  life,  and  pass  over  into  the  centre  of  ours..  This 
can  be  effected  only  by  the  Hoh'  Ghost,  but  not  in  such  a  sense  as 
if  He  stood  between  us  and  Christ,  and  we  were  not  immediately  one 
with  Christ,  but  just  the  reverse,  so  that  the  Holy  Ghost  plants  in 
us  that  law  of  life  of  Christ  itself. 


Chap.  XXYI]  ebrard  ox  the  mystical  presence  215 

"A  third  defect  in  the  form  in  which  Culviii  exhibits  his  theory  is 
found  in  this,  that  he  does  not  make  a  clear  distinction  between  the 
individual  (mikrokosmic)  and  the  generic  (makrokosmic)  life  of 
Christ.  A  single  oak  tree  involves  a  thousand  acorns  and  couse- 
quentl3'  a  thousand  trees ;  an  entire  forest  of  oak  is  simply  the 
evolution  of  a  single  tree.  The  second  Adam,  no  less  than  the 
first,  thus  continues  His  life  in  those  begotten  of  Him — true,  pro- 
vided Ave  make  proper  account  of  the  idea  of  begetting,  and  do  not 
understand  it  as  merely  figurative." 

After  these  remarks,  Dr.  Ebrard  gives  a  number  of  Dr.  Nevin's 
theses  or  propositions  respecting  the  Mystical  Union  and  the 
Lord's  Supper  somewhat  abbreviated,  and  in  his  own  language. 
But  we  here  ])resent  them  all  in  order  as  given  by  the  author  him- 
.wlf  in  what  he  styles  his  "Scientific  Statement:" 

The  human  world  in  its  present  natural  state,  as  descended  from 
Adam,  is  sundered  from  its  proper  life  in  God  by  sin,  and  utterl}' 
disabled  in  this  character  for  rising  by  itself  to  any  higher  position. 

The  union  in  which  we  stand  with  our  first  parent,  as  thus  fallen, 
extends  to  his  entire  person,  body  as  well  at  mid. 

Bj'  the  hypostatical  union  of  the  two  natures  in  the  person  of 
Jesus  Christ,  our  humanity  as  fallen  in  Adam  was  called  again  to 
a  new  and  imperishable  life. 

The  ralae  of  Christ's  sufferings  and  death,  as  well  as  of  His  entire 
life,  in  relation  to  men,  springs  wholl^y  from  the  view  of  the  Incar- 
nation now  presented. 

The  Christian  Salvation  then,  as  thus  comprehended  in  Christ, 
is  a  new  life  in  the  deepest  sense  of  the  word. 

The  new  Life,  of  which  Christ  is  the  Source  and  organic  Principle, 
is  in  all  respects  a  true  human  life. 

Christ's  life,  as  now  described,  rests  not  in  his  separate  person, 
but  passes  over  to  His  people;  thus  constituting  the  Church,  which 
is  His  Bod}-,  the  fulness  of  Him  that  filleth  all  in  all. 

As  joined  to  Christ,  then,  we  are  one  with  Him  in  His  life,  and 
not  simply  in  the  way  of  a  less  intimate  and  real  union. 

Our  union  to  Christ  is  not  simply  parallel  with  our  relation  to 
Adam,  but  goes  beyond  it,  as  being  immeasui-ably  more  intimate 
and  deep. 

The  mystical  union  includes  necessarily  a  jjarticiijation  in  tlie 
entire  humanity  of  Christ. 

As  the  mystical  union  embraces  the  whole  Christ,  so  we  too  are 
embraced  by  it,  not  in  a  paitia.l,  but  whole  way. 

The  mystery  now  aHirnied  is  accomplished,  not  in  the  way  of  two 


216  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DlY.  IX 

different  forms  of  action,  but  b^'  one  and  the  same  single  and  undi- 
vided process. 

In  all  this,  of  coui'se,  then  there  is  no  room  for  the  supposition  of 
an}'  matei-ial  tactual  approach  of  Christ's  body  to  the  person  of 
His  people. 

Such  a  relation  of  Christ  to  the  Church  involves  no  ubiqidty  or 
idealistic  dissipation  of  His  Body,  and  requirers  no  fusion  of  His 
proper  personality  with  the  persons  of  His  people. 

The  Mystical  Union,  holding  in  this  form,  is  more  intimate  and 
real  than  any  union  which  is  known  in  the  world  besides. 

The  union  of  Christ  with  believers  is  wrought  b^^  the  power  of 
the  Holy  Ghost. 

Christ's  life  is  a])prehended  on  the  part  of  His  people  only  by 
faifh. 

The  new  life  of  the  believer  includes  degrees,  and  will  be  com- 
plete only  in  the  resurrectiov. 

A  Sacrament  is  a  hoi}'  ordinance  instituted  by  Christ  Himself; 
wherein,  by  sensible  signs,  Christ  and  His  benefits  are  represented, 
seeded  and  applied  to  believers. 

The  Lord's  Supper  is  a  Sacrament,  wherein,  by  giving  and  re- 
ceiving bread  and  wine  according  to  Christ's  appointment,  His 
death  is  showed  forth,  and  the  worth}-  receivers  are,  not  after  a 
corporeal  and  carnal  manner,  but  by  faith,  made  partakers  of  His 
body  and  blood,  with  all  His  benefits,  to  their  s})iritual  nourishment 
and  growth  in  grace. 

The  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  has  reference  directly  and 
primarily  to"  the  atonement  wrought  out  by  Christ's  death  on  the 
Cross. 

As  the  medium,  however,  by  which  we  are  thus  made  partakers 
of  the  new  covenant  in  Christ's  death,  the  Holy  Supper  involves  a 
real  communication  with  the  pjerson  of  the  Saviour,  now  gloriously 
exalted  in  heaven. 

The  real  communication,  which  believers  have  with  Christ  in  the 
Holy  Supper,  extends  to  His  ichole  person. 

Christ  communicates  Himself  to  us,  in  the  real  way  now  men- 
tioned, under  the  form  of  the  sacramental  mystery  as  such. 

The  Lord's  Supper  is  the  medium  of  a  real  communication  with 
Christ,  only  in  the  case  of  believers. — These  statements  Dr.  Nevin 
used  as  starting  points  for  further  discussions  and  explanations  in 
the  third  chapter  of  his  book. 

In  connection  with  these  propositions  Ebrard  makes  some  brief 
characteristic  comments.    "  According  to  Dr.  Nevin,"  he  says,  "the 


Chap.  XXVI]  ebrard  ox  the  mystical  presence  277 

human  race  is  not  an  aggregation,  not  a  '  heap  of  living  sand-grains,' 
but  the  evolution  of  one  distinct  single  life.  The  corruption  of 
human  nature  through  the  fall  is  therefore  organic. — Our  union 
with  Adam  is  bodil}-  as  well  as  spiritual,  although  not  a  material 
particle  of  Adam's  body  is  in  any  of  us.  It  is  sufficient  that  the 
law  of  Adam's  life  is  in  us,  and  reproduced  in  each  one  of  us. — 
Through  the  Incarnation  of  Christ  our  human  nature  is  raised  into 
a  divine  life. — The  Incarnation  in  humanity  brought  with  it  the 
necessit}'  of  suffering  in  Him  who  was  sinless.  The  imi)utation 
of  such  suffering  is  not  external,  mechanical,  nor  simply  judicial, 
because  in  Christ  the  new  deutero-Adamic  humanity  was  really 
present  in  His  sufferings  when  He  made  satisfaction  for  sin. — Re- 
demption is  not  a  new  doctrinal  system,  not  merel}-  a  new  object 
of  thought,  but  a  new  life.  Christianity  is  not  a  reformed  Judaism, 
but  a  new  creation.  The  new  life,  however,  has  entered  into  the 
old  life. — This  new  life  is  a  true  human  life ;  not  the  life  of  the 
eternal,  transmundane,  world-ruling  Logos,  but  the  life  of  the 
Word  made  Flesh. — Christ's  life  does  not  remain  in  His  own  sepa- 
rate person,  but  reproduces  itself  creatively  in  those  who  by  a  sub- 
jective faith  are  born  of  or  out  of  Him.  In  such  He  plants  His 
own  life,  and  at  the  same  time  He  plants  Himself  in  His  makrokos- 
mic  body.  In  the  first  place  we  are  taken  hold  of  by  Him  at  one 
point  not  of  our  thinking  but  of  our  being,  and  therefore  at  the 
central  point,  and  warmed  into  a  new  life ;  and  from  that  the  holy 
fire  of  the  new  life  spreads,  sanctifies  our  thoughts,  as  well  as  our 
nature  gradually,  and  destroys,  in  like  degree,  the  old  man.  ''Here," 
says  Dr.  Ebrard,  "Dr.  Nevin  accepts  of  the  comparison  of  magne- 
tized iron,  already  used  by  myself,  and  in  an  ingenious  way  brings 
this  into  connection  with  the  passage  in  John,  12:32. 

"As  we  are  one  with  Christ,  the  transformation  at  our  vital  cen- 
tre is,  therefore,  creative  and  substantial.  The  Unio  Mystica  is 
obviously  at  hand.  Christ  is  reall3-  one  with  us,  so  soon  as  the 
centre  is  born  again,  and,  therefore,  the  righteousness  of  Christ 
forthwith  belongs  to  us,  independentl}-  of  the  degree  of  sanctifica- 
tion  which  has  already  commenced. — This  union  with  the  second 
Adam  is  much  higher  and  more  inward  than  the  one  with  the  first 
Adam.  Christ  does  not  stand  in  a  remote  and  indirect  connection 
with  the  single  individual,  but  directl}'  with  each  one,  and  is  not 
onl}-  the  begetter,  but  the  permanent  head  and  ruler. — The  Unio 
Mystica  is  a  unio  with  the  humanity  of  Christ.  We  cannot  stand 
in  a  substantial  connection  with  the  eternal  Logos  as  such,  for 
tlu'U  we  must  be  God.     A  Unio  Mystica  with  the  Logos  as  such 


2Y8  AT    MERCERSBURG   EROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

would  be  a  Unio  H^postatica,  a  Homousia,  such  as  that  which 
unites  the  Father  to  the  Son.  Humanity  is  the  exclusive  and  the 
only  possible  form  by  which  Ave  become  partakers  of  the  Logos. — 
The  mj^stical  union  is  a  union  of  the  entire  Christ  with  the  entire 
person  of  the  believer.  This  union,  however,  cannot  become  dual- 
istic,  because  life  is  one  and  not  dualistically  divided.  Bod^^  and 
soul  have  one  life.  The  soul  without  the  body  is  dead;  and  there- 
fore the  Scripture  never  speaks  of  the  immortality^  of  the  soul  but 
of  the  resurrection. — There  can,  therefore,  be  no  mere  bodily  union 
with  Christ,  as  a  peculiar  kind  of  union  with  Him,  for  such  a  union 
would  not  be  mystical  but  magical.  See  Dogma  des  Heiligen 
Abendmahls,  I.  p.  92.  Accordingly  there  can  be  no  material  com- 
munication to  us  of  the  matter  of  Christ's  body.  Neither  an 
ubiquity  of  the  individual  glorified  body  of  Christ,  nor  a  mixture 
of  it  with  our  bodies  is  demanded. — Our  union  with  Christ  is  not 
merely  that  of  descent,  as  from  Adam,  but  one  that  continually  and 
immediately  roots  itself  in  Him.  Consequently  Christ  is  present 
in  His  Church,  notwithstanding  the  organism  of  His  individual  life. 
— This  union  is  brought  about  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  but  not  in  such 
a  way  that  He  in  us  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  '  substitute '  for  the 
presence  of  Christ  Himself,  but  that  Christ  through  the  Holy  Ghost 
plants  within  us  His  own  peculiar  life.  The  Unio  Mystica  is  spir- 
itualis,  not  in  oj^position  to  corporalis — geistlich,  nicht  geistig. 
Compare  Dogma  des  heiligen  Abendmahls,  Vol.  I.  p.  89. — Faith  is 
not  the  principle  of  the  new  life,  but  simplj-  the  organ  by  which  it 
is  received.  It  is  not  the  act  of  ploughing  which  produces  the  seed ; 
the  seed  alone  can  become  the  living  fruit  of  the  living  ear  of  corn, 
"  In  the  fourth  or  last  chapter  of  his  book.  Dr.  Nevin  seeks  to 
sustain  his  theses  or  propositions  from  the  Holy  Scriptures.  Al- 
though we  cheerfully  admit  that,  whilst  he  does  not  by  an}-  means 
confine  himself  to  dicta  prohantia  in  the  old  scholastic  stAde,  he 
develops  an  entire  Biblical  theolog}'  in  a  spirited  and  general  way, 
it  still  appears  to  us  an  objection  that  he  brings  forward  his  '  Biblical 
Argument '  in  a  special  chapter,  instead  of  developing  his  own  prop- 
ositions from  the  Scripture,  and  letting  them  appear  as  the  result  of 
his  investigations  of  the  Scripture.  Would  not  this  have  made  a 
more  convincing  impression  iipon  the  minds  of  his  Puritanical  op- 
ponents ?  We  think  that  chapters  three  and  four  might  with  ad- 
vantage be  allowed  to  exchange  places. — The  fourth  chapter  gives 
not  only  the  Biblical  argument  for  the  Lord's  Supper,  but  in  fact 
the  development  of  the  whole  dogmatic  system  upon  which  Dr. 
Nevin's  doctrine  of  the  Lord's  Supper  rests  and  from  which  it  pro- 


Chap.  XXYI]  ebraud  on  the  mystical  presence  2T9 

ceecls  ab  ovo.     The  first  portions  of  the  fourth  chapter  moreover 
include  the  most  luminous  parts  of  the  whole  book. 

"With  a  depth  of  thought,  which  elsewhere  we  are  not  exactly 
accustomed  to  find  in  the  English  language,  with  a  spirit  such  as 
we  meet  with  to  some  extent  in  Lange's  writings,  and  in  addition 
with  a  precision  and  perspicuity  of  thought,  for  which  Dr.  Xevin 
had  to  form  in  the  English  tongue  a  language  for  himself,  he  de- 
veloped the  following  ideas  :  that  man  is  the  crown  and  fulfilment 
of  nature ;  that  heathenism  is  a  yeai-ning  of  humanity'  to  become 
one  with  God;  that  Judaism  is  a  revelation  of  God  to  man,  but 
not  in  man  ;  and  that  Christianit}'  is  a  new  creation.  Aristotle,  in 
his  day,  founded  an  intellectual  kingdom,  which  carried  in  its  ma- 
ternal bosom  all  subsequent  intellectual  developments  since  his 
time,  and  has  not  yet  passed  away ;  but  this  kind  of  spiritual  ac- 
tivity' was  the  product  of  a  development  that  had  preceded  it ; 
Christ,  on  the  other  hand,  was  not  the  product  of  any  previous 
development,  however  organically  He  may  have  inserted  Himself 
and  His  life  into  it. — We  should  pass  beyond  the  limits  of  a  notice 
of  Dr.  Nevin's  book,  if  we  should  attempt  to  give  in  detail  the  rich 
contents  of  this  last  chapter ;  and  we  must  content  ourselves  with 
giving  only  the  captions  of  the  single  sections  :  The  Incarnation, 
— the  New  Creation, — the  Second  Adam, — Christianity  a  Life, — 
the  Mystical  Union, — the  6th  chapter  of  John, — and  the  Lord's 
Supper.  From  this  last  chapter,  however,  as  well  as  from  the  en- 
tire book,  it  is  in  the  highest  degree  evident,  that  Dr.  Nevin  has 
acquired  for  himself  the  priceless  credit  of  having  transplanted 
the  ripe  fruits  of  the  German  theological  spirit  into  the  American, 
that  is,  the  essentially'  English-supernaturalistic  and  Puritan  world 
of  thought.  It  may  be  that  North  America  in  general  is  destined 
to  become  the  heir  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  forward  the  devel- 
opments of  German  science,  threatened  at  home  on  all  sides  by 
very  stormy  weather." — This  was  the  judgment  of  one  of  the  most 
learned  and  most  distinguished  scholars  of  German}-  concerning 
Dr.  Nevin's  volume  on  the  M^'stical  Presence. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

SUCH  was  the  reception  the  Mystical  Presence  received  in  Ger- 
many, the  land — par  excellence — of  theological  science.  We 
now  proceed  to  consider  how  it  was  regarded  in  its  own  country. 
The  ablest  and  by  far  the  most  respectable  review  of  its  contents 
came  from  Princeton,  from  the  pen  of  Dr.  Charles  Hodge  in  the 
Princeton  Rej)€rto7'y  or  Revieio  for  the  year  1848.  He  was  one  of 
the  best,  if  not  the  best  representative  of  Puritan  theology  on  this 
side  of  the  ocean,  a  learned  theologian,  a  clear  and  perspicuous 
writer,  a  forcible  logician,  and  with  considerable  experience  as  a 
controversialist.  He  and  Dr.  Nevin  were  said  by  high  authority  in 
German}^,  in  connection  with  Edwards  and  Channing,  to  be  the 
greatest  theologians  that  North  America  had  produced.  It  may  be 
said,  therefore,  that  the  contest  was  between  two  theological  giants. 
"We  here  give  briefly  the  successive  attacks  and  counter-attacks  as 
the  respective  champions  appeared  in  the  field. 

The  Princeton  Professor  had  the  advantage  of  position,  certainly. 
He  stood  before  the  public  as  the  central  theological  leader  in  some 
degree  of  the  entire  Old  School  Presbyterian  Church  in  this  country, 
and  his  article  was  characterized  throughout  by  a  corresponding 
consciousness  of  authority  and  power.  The  weight  of  his  name  and 
pen  was  with  multitudes  sutFicient  to  outweigh  any  amount  of 
favorable  judgment  on  the  other  side.  Such  a  man  as  Krummacher, 
in  this  case,  or  of  any  other  Evangelical  German  divine,  could 
hardlj'  be  seen  or  felt,  where  all  could  be  easily  settled  b}'  the  voice 
of  the  Princeton  Repertory.  Such  a  voice  deserved  to  be  heard,  and 
the  Mercersbtirg  Professor  was  bound  to  make  due  account  of  it. 

But  whether  the  Princeton  representative  had  made  the  neces- 
sary preparation  for  the  conflict  is  another  question.  In  the  open- 
ing sentence  of  his  review,  he  says  that  he  had  had  Dr.  Nevin 's 
Mystical  Presence  on  his  table  for  two  years,  after  its  publication, 
but  had  really  not  been  able  to  read  it  until  within  a  fortnight,  and 
then  "  only  under  the  stimulus  of  a  special  necessity  to  carry  him 
through  such  a  book."  As  a  master  in  Israel  he  had  been  called  on  to 
investigate  the  question,  What  is  the  real  doctrine  of  the  Reformed 
Church  on  the  Lord's  Supper?  Naturallj-  he  turned  to  Dr.  Nevin's 
liook,  and  gratefully  acknowledged  the  assistance  derived  from  it. 
It  was  understood  at  the  time  that  there  was  a  pressure  brought 

(280) 


ClIAP.  XXVII]  KEl'I.Y    TO    DR.    HODGE  281 

to  bear  on  the  Editor  of  the  Repertory  by  respectable  Presb^-terian 
clergymen  to  answer  the  book  and  prevent  it  from  extending  its  in- 
fluence. At  the  close  of  his  first  paragraph  he  had  already  arrived 
at  the  conclusion,  "that  Dr.  Nevin  was  tenfold  further  from  the  doc- 
trine of  the  common  forefathers  than  those  whom  he  commiserated 
and  condemned." — It  would  have  perhaps  been  better  if  he  had  put 
this  conclusion  at  the  end  of  his  article,  as  mathematicians  are  ac- 
customed to  place  the  initials  of  a  famous  Latin  sentence  after 
they  have  proved  their  propositions.  Dr.  Nevin,  on  the  other  hand, 
had  studied  the  subject  in  dispute  for  many  3'ears  and  was  prepared 
— semper  paratus — not  onl}-  to  reply  to  attacks  from  week  to  week 
at  home  in  the  weekly  paper,  but  to  give  due  attention  to  an  elabo- 
rate article  in  a  quarterly  from  a  distance. 

Dr.  Hodge  in  his  introduction  had  remarked  that  Dr.  XeA'in's 
tone  had  been  so  disparaging,  if  not  contemptuous,  when  speaking 
of  all  branches  of  the  Reformed  Church,  except  his  own,  that  he 
must  have  had  reason  to  be  surprised  that  all  this  had  been  endured 
in  silence.  To  this  he  replied,  that  he  had  not  spoken  disrespect- 
fully of  the  Puritan  chiirchea  as  such,  but  simply-  in  regard  to  their 
theories,  and  reminded  his  accuser  that  the  Repertory  had  been 
quite  as  free  and  sweeping  in  its  judgements  on  all  German  the- 
ology. Others  had  made  similar  complaints  against  him,  but  it  is 
a  remarkable  ftict  that  he,  throughout,  combats  what  he  considered 
false  principles,  not  individuals,  much  less  sister  branches  of  the 
Church. 

Dr.  Hodge  from  the  start  simplified  the  question  in  dispute  very 
much  l)y  pointing  out  the  basic  or  fundamental  point  in  the  Mys-  ■ 
tical  Presence  from  which  he  dissented  in  toto  coelo.     With  the 
Lutheran   Church  and   the   Church  of  England  the  book  taught 
that  the  believer  was  united  to  the  human  as  well  as  the  divine  na- 
ture in  the  Lord's  Supper.     He  affirmed  that  the  union  held  onh*  as  © 
it  regards  the  divine  nature,  and  that  this  was  the  true  doctrine  of 
the  Reformed  Church.     It  thus  became  an  historical  question,  and 
he  adopted  the  course  pursued  by  Dr.  Nevin  in  consulting  original   ' 
historical   documents  to  sustain  his  position.     He  acknowledges 
the  great  difficult}-  in  such  an  investigation,  because  the  Reformed 
confessions  were  confusing, as  it  seemed  to  him, in  their  statements,, 
some   of  them  leaning   to  the  one  side,  some   to   the  other,  and. 
some  of  them  contradicting  both  sides.     He,  however,  arranged 
them  into  three  classes:  first, those  that  taught  the  Zwinglian  view,  ' 
such  as  the  first  Basel  and  the  First  Helvetic  confessions,  in  con- 
nection with  the  writings  of  Zwingli  himself;  then,  those  that  ad- 
18 


282  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1814-1853  [DiV.  IX 

hered  to  the  view  of  Calvin,  such  as  the  Gallic,  the  Belgic  and 
the  Anglican  confessions,  including  the  Thii%-Nine  articles  of  the 
Church  of  England ;  and  thirdly,  those  sj-mbols  in  which  the 
Zwinglian  and  Calvinistic  agree,  among  which  he  places  the  Hei- 
delberg Catechism  and  the  Consensus  Tigurinus,  a  somewhat  fam- 
ous document  drawn  up  by  Calvin  in  Zurich  in  1549,  to  promote 
peace  and  concord  among  the  Swiss  chnrches.  The  reviewer,  in  this 
arrangement,  very  adroitly  makes  free  use  of  the  authorities  given 
by  Dr.  Nevin  after  much  labor  in  his  book,  and  seeks  to  turn  them 
as  his  own  batteries  against  the  position  of  his  opponent. 

He  admits  that  the  view  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  as  given  in  the  Mys- 
tical Presence  was  substantially  the  view  of  Calvin,  Bucer  and  oth- 
ers, in  regard  to  the  humanity  of  Christ,  or  His  flesh  and  blood,  but 
denies  that  it  became  the  settled  doctrine  of  the  Reformed  Churches. 
That  came  out  afterwards  in  the  Consensus  Tigurinus,  with  which 
he  himself  fully  agreed,  and  to  which,  as  he  supposed,  the  Evan- 
gelical Churches  generally  would  not  object.  The  true  Calvinistic 
view  had  come  into  the  Reformed  Churches  as  a  foreign  element 
through  Calvin,  Bucer  and  others  in  their  efforts  to  stand  on  better 
terms  with  the  Lutherans,  was  not  indigenous,  and,  in  the  course 
of  time,  was  eliminated  as  not  in  harmony  with  their  life.  Here 
again  the  critic  ingeniously  turns  the  principle  of  development,  a 
strong  weapon  of  the  Mercersburg  professors,  against  one  of  their 
strongholds.  There  was  a  progress,  it  was  alleged,  in  the  settle- 
ment of  the  doctrine  of  the  Eucharist,  a  healthy  one  also,  but  as 
a  result  of  this  growth  Calvin's  eucharistical  theory  Avas  thrown 
off  as  no  longer  pertaining  to  a  healthy  state  of  affairs. 

But  to  all  this  Dr.  Nevin  vehemently  demurred,  and  he  was  pre- 
pared to  meet  the  attack  from  this  quarter  with  new  and  old  re- 
sources. His  zeal  was  enkindled,  and  he  wrote  with  more  than 
usual  vigor  against  Avhat  he  firmly  believed  as  gross  violence  to 
histor}^  no  less  than  truth  itself.  "  The  authorities  here  presented," 
he  says,  ''  it  will  be  seen,  are  to  a  great  extent  the  same,  as  far  as 
they  go,  that  are  to  be  found  quoted  in  the  MA^stical  Presence.  Dr. 
Hodge  has  not  gone  into  any  original  historical  investigation  of  the 
subject,  but  has  thought  it  sufficient  to  trust  his  general  preconcep- 
tions of  the  case,  simply  applying  them  to  the  material  here  fur- 
nished to  his  hand, in  such  a  way  as  to  suit  the  object  he  had  in  view. 
The  onl}'  new  authorit}'  which  may  be  regarded  as  of  any  account 
is  the  Consensus  Tigurinus,  which  as  it  happens  to  sound  most 
favorably  to  his  cause,  he  insists  on  making  the  rule,  or  rather  the 
Procrustean  bed,  by  which  to  screw  into  proper  shape  the  sense  of 


Chap.  XXYII]  reply  to  du.  hodge  283 

all  testimonies  and  symbols  besides.  This,  however,  is  a  most 
arbitraiy  requirement,  to  which  no  mind,  at  all  at  home  in  the  the- 
ological literature  of  the  sixteenth  century-,  can  be  willing  for  a 
moment  to  submit.  The  Consensus  Tigurinus  has  never  been  ^ 
allowed  to  be  at  all  of  any  such  primary  force  in  the  Reformed 
Church.  Dr.  Hodge  talks  of  compromise  and  ambiguous  phrase- 
ology, as  entering  into  the  sacramental  statement  of  the  age  in 
other  cases;  but  if  there  be  room  anywhere  for  such  supposition,  it 
is  to  be  found  emphatically  in  the  case  of  this  Consensus  of  Zurich. 

"  It  is  acknoAvledged  on  all  hands,  that  Calvin  condescended  as 
far  as  he  possibly  could  towards  the  Zwinglian  extreme  for  the 
purpose  of  assisting  the  Swiss  Church  to  come  up,  as  it  were,  to 
the  higher  ground  on  which  he  habitually  stood.  It  has  indeed  been 
generally  conceded,  that  in  some  of  his  expressions  he  fell  into 
actual  contradiction  with  his  own  system,  as  previously  taught,  and 
as  he  held  it  afterwards  to  the  end  of  his  life.  At  all  events,  it  is 
a  most  violent  assumption  on  the  part  of  Dr.  Hodge,  that  his  plain, 
unequivocal  declarations  on  the  subject  of  his  ow-n  faith,  a  hundred 
times  repeated  throughout  his  works,  are  to  be  overruled  by  the 
authority  of  this  one  document  of  most  questionable  sense,  in- 
stead of  allowing  it  to  be  intepreted  rather  by  the  hundred  authori- 
ties that  are  explicit  and  clear. 

"But  all  this  is  spoken  b}'  concession.  Even  the  'forlorn  hope' 
of  the  Consensus  Tigurinus  will  be  found  to  fail  the  cause  it  is 
brought  up  to  support,  when  subjected  to  true  historical  trial. 
Dr.  Hodge  approaches  it  in  the  spirit  of  his  own  time  and  position : 
as  though  it  had  been  lately  framed  in  Philadelphia  or  Boston; 
ignoring  and  forgetting,  out  and  out,  the  sacramental  views  of  the 
sixteenth  centur}-:  and  finds  it  tolerably  eas}-,  in  this  wa^-,  to  put 
into  it  what  he  conceives  to  be  a  sound  and  satisfactory  sense. — 
The  articles  could  be  easily  signed  b}'  our  modern  churches  gener- 
ally, just  as  the}'  can  readily  subscribe  to  the  old  Apostles'  Creed, 
taking  all  in  their  oxen  sense. 

"But  could  the}'  do  so  in  the  proper  historical  sense  of  the  arti- 
cles themselves.  That  is  the  only  question  of  much  account  in  the 
case.  Happily,  as  regards  the  Consensus  Tigurinus,  we  are  not 
thrown  simpi}'  on  the  general  teaching  of  Calvin  to  make  out  the 
sense  in  which  it  is  to  be  taken.  We  have  a  full  exposition  of  it  ' 
from  his  own  hand,  of  wliicli  Dr.  Hodge  here  takes  no  notice. 
Could  he  subscril)e  to  the  sacramental  doctrine  of  that!''  I  shall 
show  hereafter  that  he  could  iKjt,  unless  prep:ired  at  the  same  time 
to  adopt  the  tenth  article  of  the  Augsburg  Confession. — Dr.  Hodge 


284  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

is  pleased  to  sa}-  also,  in  view  of  the  extracts  taken  from  our  ex- 
cellent Heidelberg  Catechism,  that  there  is  nothing  in  its  account 
of  the  Lord's  Supper  to  which  exception  would  even  now  be  taken. 
He  means,  however,  of  course  again,  provided  all  be  construed  in 
his  own  sense.  In  the  sense  of  Ursinus,  neither  Dr.  Hodge  nor  Dr. 
Kurtz  could  endorse  the  Heidelberg  Catechism;  just  as  little  as 
either  of  them  could  sign  in  good  faith  the  Augsburg  Confession 
in  Melanchthon's  sense. 

"  But  now  it  is  not  true  that  in  the  Mystical  Presence  the  author- 
ities are  adduced  without  any  attempt  at  least  to  set  them  in  their 
proper  historical  I'elations.  A  careful  distinction  is  made  through- 
out the  book  between  the  confessions  preceding  and  those  follow- 
ing Calvin,  as  full  notice  is  taken  also  of  their  respective  relations 
both  to  Lutheranism  on  the  one  side  and  Zwinglianism  on  the  other. 
In  my  survey,  however,  the  Zwinglianizing  element  is  made  to  give 
way  gradually  altogether  to  the  Calvinistic,  which  appears  at  last 
accordingly  as  the  acknowledged  ruling  life  of  all  the  leading  Re- 
formed confessions.  This  order  of  things  is  exhibited,  not  in  the 
way  of  wilful  assumption,  but  on  clear  historical  deduction  (or 
as  we  might  say  of  a  true  historical  development.  Ed.)  It  suits 
not,  however,  of  course,  the  theory  of  Dr.  Hodge;  and  so  without 
troubling  himself  at  all  to  interrogate  the  actual  course  of  history 
on  the  subject,  he  simply  orders  his  classification  in  such  a  wa^-  as 
to  make  his  Zwinglian  authorities  at  once  co-orclinate  in  full  with 
the  Calvinistic,  as  though  both  ran  parallel  in  time  throughout,  and 
at  last  settled  into  a  sort  of  joint  result,  substantialh'  agreeing  with 
the  Zwinglian  doctrine,  as  this  stood  in  the  beginning!  Never  was 
there  a  more  unhistorical  mode  of  proceeding  in  the  case. — It  is 
pretty  evident  besides  that  in  his  whole  estimate  of  the  subject,  Dr. 
Hodge  has  been  ruled  by  the  authority  of  Guericke  (an  ultra  Lu- 
theran— Ed.),  as  he  is  led  to  speak  of  the  several  Reformed  confes- 
sions in  his  Symholik.'''' 

After  remarks  and  replies  of  this  character.  Dr.  Nevin  makes  a 
long  historical  Excursus,  in  which,  with  much  learning,  he  gives  a 
more  extended  history  of  the  old  sacramentarian  controversy  than 
in  his  Mystical  Presence,  in  support  of  his  position  as  over  against 
the  Princeton  Repertory.  The  proofs  adduced  are  ample,  based 
on  quotations  from  the  writings  of  Calvin  and  the  best  authorities 
of  the  Reformation  period.  The  imputation  that  Calvin  was  in 
any  sense  a  time-server,  that  he  adapted  his  view  to  suit  the  Lu- 
therans at  one  time  and  the  Zwinglians  at  another,  is  effectually 
set  aside  by  his  own  solemn  asseveration  that  he  had  not  changed 


Chap.  XXVII]  reply  to  dr.  iiodoe  285 

it  at  all  in  any  material  sense.  It  was  set  forth  in  his  Institutes, 
Ijublished  in  1530,  before  he  came  into  communication  with  the 
Lutherans  at  Strasburg  in  1538,  and  surtered  no  change  except  in 
the  way  of  enlargement  and  further  exposition^  In  his  own  judg- 
ment the  agreement  at  Zurich,  in  the  Consensus  Tigurinns,  was,  by 
no  means,  a  retreat  from  the  high  sacramental  views  which  he  held 
during  bis  whole  lifetime,  as  appears  from  his  Exposition  attached 
to  the  Consensus  in  his  works.  Tome  IX,  Pp.  053-059.  The  most 
that  can  be  said  of  this  document  is  that  it  was  Calvinistic-Zwing- 
lian,  over  against  the  current  Megandrian  Zwinglianism,  a  rational- 
istic tendency',  which  did  great  injustice  to  the  Swiss  Reformer. 

Here  Calvin  explicitly  says,  among  other  defensive  remarks,  that 
"  our  readers  will  find  in  this  Consensus  all  that  is  contained  in  the  so 
called  Augsburg  Confession,  as  published  at  Regensburg,  provided 
it  be  not  strained,  through  fear  of  the  cross,  to  please  the  papists." 
— In  connection  with  such  statement  the  best  European  authorit}' 
is  quoted  in  favor  of  the  main  contention  in  the  excursus. 

"This  view,"  saj's  Professor  Ebrard,  "was  not  brought  in,  as 
modern  polemics  may  represent,  in  the  wa}'  of  contemporar}-  com- 
pliance towards  the  Lutherans,  as  though  the  Reformed  Church 
had  to  thank  the  Lutheran  for  such  a  morsel  of  truth  as  she  thus 
came  to  possess;  but  we  find  it,  long  before  Bucer's  negotiations, 
independentlj^  uttered  by  fficolampadius  in  the  Confessio  Mjdhu- 
siana,  and  Calvin  independently  also  brought  it  in  from  France." — 
And  in  regard  to  the  Heidelberg  Catechism,  Ebrard  also  says: 
"  We  need  not  offer  a  panegj'ric  on  its  merits ;  it  speaks  its  own 
praise.  Its  wonderful  union  of  doctrinal  precision  and  inward 
earnestness,  easy  comprehensibility  and  pregnant  depth,  leave  it 
without  a  parallel  in  its  wa^'.  It  is  at  once  a  system  of  divinity 
and  a  book  of  practical  divinit}-;  ever}'  child  can  understand  it  on 
the  first  reading,  while  yet  the  catechist  has  in  it  the  richest  mate- 
rial for  profound  elucidation." 

"Calvin  rendered  an  incalculable  service  to  the  Churi'h,"  says  his 
l)iographer  Henry,  "in  directing  the  attention  of  one  wide  section 
of  it  to  the  force  and  power  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  which  some  in 
Switzerland  were  dis})()sed  to  turn  into  a  mere  commemoration. 
^Millions  of  Christians  in  the  Reformed  Church  owe  it  to  him  that 
the}'  have  enjoNed  the  Supper  in  its  right  sense,  so  as  to  partake  in 
it  of  the  true,  spiritual,  glorified  Christ.  His  deep  view,  moreover, 
has  almost  everj'where  become  prevalent  now  in  the  p]vangelical 
Church."  This  last  remark  is  made  of  Germany,  of  course,  and  not 
of  our  Evangelical  Churches.     Dr.  Xevin  adds,  that  "it  is  some- 


286  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

what  queer,  that  the  same  number  of  the  Princeton  Beperfory^ 
which  sinks  the  Reformed  doctrine  of  the  Eucharist  so  low  in  its 
review  of  the  M^-stical  Presence,  has  an  article  highl^^  commend- 
atory of  Calvin's  Life  by  Henry.  In  this  same  article,  the  sacra- 
mental controversy  of  the  sixteenth  centur^^  is  called  a  foul  excres- 
cence simply  on  the  Reformation;  and  Luther  is  said  to  have  dis- 
graced himself  by  his  unexampled  '  revilings  of  Zwingli  and  Calvin.'' 
Luther  came  to  no  collision  personall}-  with  Calvin.  The  Repertory 
quietly  assumed,  moreover,  that  the  old  Calvinistic  faith  here  was 
just  its  OAvn,  which,  however,  as  we  see  from  Henr}'  himeelf,  was 
not  the  case." 

From  what  has  been  said  it  appears  that  Princeton  and  Mer- 
cersburg  agreed  that  in  the  course  of  time  a  change  took  place 
in  the  Reformed  Church  in  the  doctrine  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  as 
Dr.  Nevin  had  affirmed  in  his  book.  The  former  affirmed  that 
Calvin's  view  was  ruled  out  as  a  foreign  element  in  its  growth ;  the 
latter  denied  this  in  toto,  and  maintained  that  it  became  predomi- 
nant in  the  Reformation  period  as  "the  survival  of  the  fittest." 
Dr.  Hodge  acordingly  proceeds  to  show  what  he  conceives  to  be 
its  legitimate  and  normal  form,  or  in  other  words,  he  gives  a  con- 
fession of  his  own.  We  here  give  it  in  his  own  words,  followed 
always  by  Dr.  Kevin's  construction  of  the  words  in  italics,  showing 
in  what  sense  he  could  agree  with  Dr.  Hodge.  Both  could  sub- 
scribe to  the  words  of  Dr.  Hodge,  but  as  regards  the  emendations  of 
his  language  they  were  very  far  apart. 

('hrist  is  really  present  to  His  people  in  the  Lord's  Supper,  but 
by  His  Spirit, — as  the,  medium  of  a  higher  mode  of  existence. 

Not  in  the  sense  of  local  nearness,  but  of  efficacious  operation, — 
nullifying  mirifically  the  bar  of  distance,  and  bringing  the  very 
substance  of  His  body  in  union  with  their  life. 

They  receive  Him,  not  with  the  mouth,  but  by  faith, — as  the 
organ  by  tvhich  only  the  soul  is  qualified  to  admit  the  divine  action 
indicated. 

They  receive  His  flesh,  not  as  flesh,  not  as  material  particles,  nor 
its  human  life, — but  dynamically  in  the  imvard  power  of  its  life,  so 
that  the  clause  "nor  its  human  life,"  is  incorrect. 

The}^  receive  His  body  as  broken,  and  His  blood  as  shed, — t?ie 
value  of  that  sacrifice  carried  in  the  vivific  virtue  of  the  same  body, 
noiv  gloriously  exalted  in  heaven. 

The  union  thus  signified  and  effected  between  Him  and  them,  is 
not  a  corporeal  union,  nor  a  mixture  of  substances, — in  the  Romayi 
or  Lutheran  sense,— \n\t  spiritual  and  mj'stical; — not  merely  mental i 


Chap.  XXVII]  reply  to  dr.  hodge  287 

but  iiivladinij  the  real  presence  of  Clirid'a  idiolc  li/'e  under  an 
objective  character,  and  reaching  on  one  side  aho  through  the  soul 
into  the  t)odi/,'  arising  from  the  indwelling  of  the  Spirit, — not  as  the 
jyroxy  onti/  of  an  aljsent  Christ,  bat  as  the  supernatural  bond  of  a 
true  life  connection,  bi/  which  His  re rg  flesh  is  Joined  to  ours,  more 
intimatelg  far  than  the  trunk  to  tlie  branches,  or  the  head  to  its 
mendiers  in  the  natural  world. 

The  efflcacj'^  of  this  Sacrament  as  a  means  of  grace  is  not  in  the 
signs,  separately  taken,  nor  in  the  service, — ovtwardly  considered, 
— nor  in  the  minister,  nor  in  the  word,  but  solely  in  the  attending 
influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost, — as  the  necessary  comjjlement  or  in- 
ivard  side  of  the  divine  mystery  itself,  of  whose  jj;*e«f?nce  the  out- 
ward signs  are  the  sure  guaranty  and  pledge,  and  ich.ose  mirifc 
action  can  never  fail  to  take  effect  objectively  ichere  the  subject  is  in  a 
state  to  admit  it  by  faith.  This  we  believe — filled  out  with  positive 
contents — to  be  a  fair  statement  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Reformed 
Church. 

The  two  learned  doctors  ditVered  considerably-  in  their  idea  or  defi-  t^ 
nitiou  of  a  Sacrament,  and  this  helped  to  keep  them  farther  away 
from  common  ground,  as  will  appear  from  Dr.  Nevin's  anti-criticism. 

"  In  denying  that  the  elements  possess  any  saving  etiicacy  in 
their  own  separate  nature,  Calvin  and  the  Reformed  symbols  did 
not  mean  to  deny  such  etiicacy  to  the  sacraments  in  their  full  sense; 
for  this  we  have  had  full  opportunity  to  see,  was  supposed  to  in- 
clude this  very  conception  as  a  necessary  part  of  their  constitution. 
Occasionally  indeed  the  mere  ontward  side  of  the  service  is  denom- 
inated the  Sacrament,  which  then  of  course  is  represented  as  hav- 
ing in  itself  no  power  for  sacramental  ends;  it  is  onl3-  the  accom- 
panying grace  of  Christ's  Spirit  which  can  make  it  of  an}-  account. 

"  But  in  an\'  full  view  of  the  case,  these  two  things  are  regarded 
as  going  together  in  the  constitution  of  the  sacrament  itself.  Here 
it  is  that  Dr.  Hodge  is  wholly  at  fault.  His  idea  plainly  is  that 
the  relation  of  inward  and  outward  is  to  be  counted  just  as  loose 
and  free  in  the  sacraments,  as  in  the  case  of  an3'  other  occasion 
that  may  be  turned  into  means  of  grace  by  the  concurring  influ- 
ence of  God's  Spirit;  and  this  view  he  also  endeavors  to  impose  on 
the  old  Reformed  Church.  But  who  that  has  listened  to  Calvin  or 
Ursinus,  or  attended  in  any  measure  to  the  clear  sense  of  the  old 
symbols,  can  fail  to  see  how  greatly  the^'  are  wronged  by  every 
imagination  of  this  sort.  A  sacrament,  they  tell  us  perpetually, 
consists  of  two  sides,  one  outward,  and  the  other  invisible  and  in- 
ward, whicli  must  always  l)e  taken  together  to  complete  tlie  pres- 


288  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

ence  of  the  m^'steiy.  The  hoh'  Eucharist  consists  thus  of  a  ter- 
rene part  of  objects  and  acts  that  fall  within  the  sphere  of  sense, and 
a  celestial  part,  other  objects  and  parts,  parallel  with  the  first, 
which  have  place  only  in  the  sphere  of  the  spirit.  The  outward 
things  are  in  this  view  signs  only  and  pictures  of  realities,  belong- 
ing to  a  higher  .order  of  existence ;  the  inward  things  are  those  in- 
visible realities  themselves. 

"  The  outward  and  the  inward  were  both  considered  as  constit- 
uent sides,  and  one  not  a  whit  more  so  than  the  other,  of  the  same 
sacramental  transaction.  The  bond,  therefore,  uniting  them,  ac- 
cording to  the  old  doctrine,  is  not  physical  or  mechanical  in  any 
way,  implies  no  local  contact  or  inclusion,  as  the  Romanists  and 
Lutherans  might  seem  to  teach ;  and  falls  not  at  all  within  the 
reach  of  experience  under  any  other  form.  To  express  this  pecu- 
liar character,  it  is  denominated  a  sacramental  union  ;  by  which, 
however,  is  not  meant  that  it  is  simply  nominal  and  natural,  but 
only  that  it  is  extraordinary  and  peculiar  to  this  case.  It  is  re- 
garded as  in  fact  most  intimate  and  necessary.  Though  not  jo'ned 
together  in  the  same  way,  the  inward  and  outward  meet  here  simulta- 
neously in  one  fact,  as  reall3'  and  truh'  as  soul  and  body  are  united 
in  the  constitution  of  our  common  life.  The  sacrament  is  not  the 
elements  used  in  its  celebration,  nor  the  outward  service  only  in 
which  this  consists,  but  a  divine  transaction.,  comprehending  in  it- 
self, along  with  such  visible  and  earthly  forms,  the  invisible  power 
of  the  very  verities  themselves  that  are  thus  symbolically  repre- 
sented ;  all  of  which  was  expressed  in  the  following  statement,  ex- 
tracted from  a  confession  presented  at  the  GoUoqiiy  of  Worms  in 
1557,  by  Beza  and  other  ministers  in  the  name  of  the  Gallic 
churches. 

"  We  confess  that  in  the  Supper  of  the  Lord  not  only  the  benefits 
of  Christ,  but  the  ver}-  substance  of  the  Son  of  Man,  that  is,  the  same 
true  flesh  which  the  Word  assumed  into  perpetual  union,  in  which 
He  was  born  and  suffered,  rose  again  and  ascended  to  heaven,  and 
that  true  blood,  which  he  shed  for  us,  are  not  only  signified,  or  set 
forth  symbolically,  typically  in  figure,  like  the  memory  of  some- 
thing absent,  but  are  truly  and  really  represented,  exhibited,  and 
offered  to  us ;  in  connection  with  sj-mbols  that  are  by  no  means 
naked,  but  which,  so  far  as  God  who  promises  and  offers  is  con- 
cerned, always  have  the  same  thing  itself  truly  and  certainly  joined 
with  them,  whether  proposed  to  believers  or  unbelievers." 

After  Dr.  Hodge  had  succeeded,  as  he  supposed,  in  proving  from 
historical  documents  that  the  doctrine  of  the  Lord's  Supper  as 


Chap.  XXYII]  reply  to  dr.  iiod;}e  289 

taught  in  the  Mystical  rreseneo  was  not  the  doctrine  of  the  Re- 
formed Church,  he  proceeded  to  attack  the  theolog^^  of  the  book 
with  much  apparent  vigor,  the  attacks  from  different  quarters  fol- 
lowing each  other  in  quick  succession,  as  if  the  object  were  to  make 
short  work  of  the  whole  affair  an<l  finish  it  at  once.  The  heresies  to 
which  Dr.  Xevin's  language  and  doctrine  lead  as  "their  legitimate 
consequences,"  something  which  the  Germans  would  call  a  remark- 
able concatenation  ofconi^eque)izmacherei,a.reT\umerons  and  conflict- 
ing. Wo  here  giA'e  them  by  name :  Eutychianism,  Socinianism,  Pan-  , 
theism,  Schleiermacherianism,  Sabellianism,  Romanism,  Ijutlieran- 
ism,  Mysticism,  Rationalism  and  especially  Germanism.  On  the  ec- 
clesiastical chart  he  says  that  "  his  doctrine  seems  to  be  somewhere 
between  the  Romish  and  Lutheran  view."  Dr.  Hodge  ncA'er  con- 
descended to  the  use  of  low  or  vulgar  language  in  his  attacks.  His 
weapons  are  all  polished, and  his  arrows,  sharpened  with  sarcasm  or 
perhajjs  w'it,  glitter  as  they  fly.  Of  course  he  reserves  some  of  the 
latter  for  the  final  attack  on  what  he  regarded  a  castle,  but  Avhich 
Dr.  Nevin  and  others  on  the  west  side  of  the  Delaware,  regarded  as 
a  windmill  or  a  man  of  straw.  We  here  give  one  of  these  as  a  speci- 
men. "Burke  once  said,  he  never  knew  what  the  London  l)eggars 
did  with  their  cast-off"  clothes,  until  he  wont  to  Ireland.  We  hope 
we  Americans  are  not  to  be  arrayed  in  the  cast-off  clothes  of  the  Ger- 
man n\ystics,  and  then  marshalled  in  bands  as  the  'Church  of  the 
Future.' "  These  were  the  last  words  that  Princeton  had  to  sa}'  of 
the  greatest  alumnus  and  theologian  that  went  forth  from  its  classic 
halls  or  had  sat  under  Dr.  Hodge's  instructions.  The  great  cham-  • 
pion  then  in  dignified  style  made  his  bow  and  left  the  field,  never 
to  enter  it  again,  in  the  following  beautiful  language: 

"  We  said  at  the  commencement  of  this  article,  that  we  had  never 
read  Dr.  Nevin's  book  on  the  Mystical  Presence,  until  now.  We 
have  from  time  to  time  read  others  of  his  publications,  and  looked 
here  and  there  into  the  work  before  us ;  and  have  been  thus  led  to 
fear  that  he  was  allowing  the  German  modes  of  thinking  to  get  the 
mastery  over  him,  but  avo  had  no  idea  that  ho  had  so  far  given  him- 
self up  to  their  influence.  If  he  has  any  faith  in  friondshii)  and 
long  continued  regardThe  must  believe  that  we  could  not  find  our- 
selves sojtaratod  from  him  by  such  serious  diflbroncos  without  deej) 
regret,  and  will,  therefore,  give  us  credit  for  sincerity  of  conviction 
and  purpose." 

Dr.  Xovin,  in  his  anti-critiquo,  with  his  usual  vigor  and  fluency 
of  language,  considered  those  supposed  logitimato  conso(Hionces 
with  fairness  and  respect,  although  being  of  such  a  contradictory 


290  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

character  they  might  seem  to  most  persons  to  confute  themselves. 
On  the  one  hand  he  defines  the  Eutychian  heresy,  and  shows  how  he 
had  avoided  that  dangerous  strand;  bnt  then  on  the  other  hand,  he 
alleges  that  Dr.  Hodge,  by  separating  the  humanity  of  Christ  from 
J  His  divinity  in  the  Lord's  Supper,  laid  himself  open  to  the  charge 
of  a  Nestorian  tendency,  at  least,  as  a  legitimate  consequence. 

''  Not  to  admit  of  such  organic  unity  in  Christ's  life,"  says  Dr. 
Nevin,  in  respectful  language  due  to  his  great  teacher, — "is  the 
error  of  Nestorius.  I  should  be  sorry  to  have  it  thought,  that  I 
should  charge  Dr.  Hodge  with  this  in  the  way  of  offset  simply  to 
his  charge  of  Eutychianism  preferred  against  the  Mystical  Pres- 
ence; although  the  facility  with  which  he  brings  this  charge,  does 
constitute  undoubtedly,  in  the  circumstances,  a  presumption  of 
some  undue  leaning  to  the  other  side  on  his  own  part.  I  should 
be  sorry,  moreover,  to  make  the  mere  name  of  an  ancient  heresy,  in 
this  case,  the  vehicle  of  any  particular  odium.  A  large  part  of 
our  modern  Protestantism  proV)ably,  respectable  and  orthodox  in 
other  respects,  stands  precisely  on  the  same  ground,  without  having 
at  all  reflected  on  the  fact.  It  is  with  the  thing,  of  course,  rather 
than  the  name,  that  we  are  here  principally  concerned.  In  such 
view,  I  feel  authorized  to  pronounce  the  Christology  of  this  article 
in  the  Biblical  Repertoi^y  decidedly  Nentorian.''^ 

This  Princeton  Beview,  at  an  early  day,  considered  itself  as  set  to 
oppose  the  introduction  of  German  theolog}'  and  philosophy  into 
this  country.  Its  articles  on  German  Transcendentalism  were  re- 
garded b}'  man}'  as  as  a  complete  estoppel  to  its  progress  in  our 
literary-  circles.  In  regard  to  German  theology,  a  distinguished 
professor  in  his  day  said  that  if  he  could  have  his  choice,  he  would 
have  preferred  that  it  should  be  sunk  in  the  Atlantic  rather  than 
that  it  should  cross  it.  Dr.  Hodge,  therefore,  had  a  large  public  to 
sympathize  with  him  in  his  reference  to  the  "cast-off-clothes,"  and 
he  gained  a  point  apparently  on  Dr.  Nevin  on  his  side  of  the  house 
when  he  alleged  that  "Dr.  Nevin's  theory  was  in  all  its  essential 
features  Sehleiermacher's  theory."  This  assertion  could  be  made 
to  mean  much  or  little,  but  fifty  years  ago  it  meant  a  great  deal  in 
our  hemisphere,  and  that  of  a  very  serious  Character.  To  this  Dr. 
Nevin  made  only  a  calm  and  dignified  repl3^ 

"  I  have,"  he  says,  "  read  Schleiermacher  some  ;  hope  to  read  still 
more;  acknowledge  the  mighty  force  of  his  learning  and  genius; 
and  trust  that  I  shall  not  cease  to  cherish  his  memorj'  with  affec- 
tionate respect.  It  is  a  mistake,  however,  to  suppose  that  I  have 
copied  him  directly  in  my  theory  of  Christianit}'  and  the  Church. 


Chap.  XXVII]  reply  to  dr.  iiodge  201 

So  far  as  his  influence  has  entered  into  ni}-  thinking,  it  has  been 
mainly  in  an  indirect  way,  through  the  medium  of  the  German  the- 
ology under  its  best  form.  My  obligation  to  this  theology,  I  have 
no  wish  to  conceal  or  deny.  But  to  be  in  living  connection  with  it 
at  all.  at  tiie  present  time,  is  to  feel  necessarily  to  some  extent  the 
force  of  Schleiermacher's  mind.  Not  as  though  all  came  from  him, 
for  that  is  b}-  no  means  the  case.  The  German  Evangelical  the- 
ology includes  various  conflicting  tendencies,  and  appears  in  l)road 
opposition  to  the  views  of  Schleiermacher. — He  formed  indeed,  as 
is  well  known,  no  school,  and  left  behind  no  fixed  school  of  phil- 
osojjhy.  ITis  power  Avas  shown  lather  in  the  way  of  exciting  and 
stimulating  others,  l)v  throAving  out  ideas  of  a  comprehensive  and 
productive  character.  In  this  way,  though  dead,  he  continues  to 
speak  in  the  theology  of  Germany,  and  will  do  so  hereafter  also, 
no  doubt,  for  a  long  time  to  come.  Such  men  as  Neander,  Tholiwk, 
Julu(s  Mneller^  Nifzsch,  Tiopafen,  Ulhnatm,  Dornei-,  liolhe,  and 
others  all  own  his  influence  and  speak  reverently  of  his  character. 
If  I  am,  therefore,  to  be  reckoned  among  his  disciples,  it  can  be  at 
best  only  in  the  general  wa}-  in  which  these,  and  many  others  of 
like  character,  with  all  acknowledged  theological  independence, 
may  be  distinguished  with  the  same  title.  I  do  not  know  that  this 
should  be  considered  any  very  serious  reproach. 

'*  Schleiermacher,  however,  we  are  told,  held  very  serious  errors. 
This  I  have  no  wish  to  deny.  It  is  admitted  generally  by  those 
who  have  most  respect  for  his  memory.  But  what  then  ?  Are  his 
errors  such  as  to  exclude  from  his  writing  all  wisdom  and  truth? 
Or,  is  it  only  of  the  infalliljlc  and  immaculate  we  may  exi)ect  to 
learn  anything  in  the  sphere  of  religion?  Alas,  then,  at  whose  feet 
should  we  ever  find  it  safe  to  sit,  though  it  should  be  only  in  the 
most  transient  way  ? — I  have  no  wish  or  concern  to  make  myself 
the  apologist  of  Schleiermacher,  just  as  little  as  I  would  think  of 
making  myself  the  apologist  of  Origen — whose  great  merits  and 
great  faults,  theologically,  exhibit  a  somewhat  parallel  case  for  our 
contemjilation. 

"  It  needs  no  great  discernment  to  see  that  my  general  theolog- 
ical tendency  is  quite  different  from  that  involved  in  what  Dr. 
Iiodge  denominates  Schleiermacher's  'system.'  Xo  man  was  less 
l)0und  than  he  by  the  authority  of  the  outward  and  objective;  he 
is,  in  one  sense,  the  veiy  apostle  of  individualism  ;  among  all  Prot- 
estants it  would  be  hard  to  find  one  whose  Protestantism  may  be 
taken  as  more  absolute  and  free  than  his.  The  great  object  of  the 
^Mystical  Presence,  on  the  other  hand,  is  to  assert  the  claims  of  an 


292  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    184-1-1853  [DiV.  IX 

objective,  historical,  sacramental,  churchh^  religion,  over  against 
the  subjectivity  of  mere  private  judgment  and  private  will.  One 
great  ground  of  complaint  against  it,  with  Dr.  Hodge  himself,  is 
found  notoriously  just  in  this,  that  it  is  regarded  as  too  little  Prot- 
estant and  too  much  catholic.  But  nobody  even  thought  of  bring- 
ing such  a  charge  against  the  system  of  Schleiermacher. — Schleier- 
macher,  a  ritualist,  disposed  to  make  undue  account  of  forms,  as  to 
give  the  letter  at  an}'  point  a  place  higher  than  the  spirit !  Never, 
surely, was  there  a  judgment  more  fully  aside  from  its  proper  mark. 
Alas,  it  is  the  great  fault  of  his  theology  that  it  is  so  entirely  in- 
ward, and  makes  so  little  account  of  history  and  the  outward 
Church.  In  this  respect,  the  M^^stical  Presence  is  quite  in  another 
order  of  thought. 

"  Altogether,  indeed,  my  sense  of  the  Church,  which  has  come  to 
be  active  and  deep,  has  not  been  borrowed  in  any  direct  and  im- 
mediate way  from  German  theology.  I  know  of  no  writer  there, 
whose  views  in  full  I  would  be  willing  to  accept  on  this  subject. 
So  ftir  as  churchly  influence  has  been  exerted  upon  me  from  this 
quarter,  it  has  been  mainl}^  through  the  force  of  theological  ideas, 
that  have  served  to  bring  my  mind  into  right  position,  for  perceiA'- 
ing  and  appreciating  what  is  due  to  this  whole  side  of  Christianity 
in  its  own  nature.  The  later  German  theology  has  done  much  un- 
doubtedly to  provide  right  views  of  histor}- ,  deeper  appreciation 
of  the  Christological  questions,  more  realistic  conceptions  altogether 
of  the  new  creation  introduced  into  the  world  by  Jesus  Christ.  Its 
tendency,  therefore,  is  to  break  up  the  force  of  our  common  modern 
spiritualistic  abstractions,  and  thus  to  restore  at  the  same  time  old 
catholic  ideas  to  their  proper  force.  In  this  way  it  is  well  adapted 
to  make  the  necessity  of  an  objective,  sacramental  religion  felt,  even 
bei/ond  the  measure  of  its  own  positive  teaching.  Only  in  this  way 
can  it  be  said  to  have  an^'thing  to  do  with  my  particular  church 
tendency. 

"The  trite  and  easy  sarcasm  about  'cast-off  clothes,'  as  here  ap- 
plied, is  unworthy  of  Dr.  Hodge.  It  would  not  cost  much  trouble, 
of  course,  to  retort  in  some  equally  insulting  style.  But  would  it 
serve  at  all  the  cause  of  charity  and  truth  ? 

"He  regrets  my  German  sj'mpathies.  Am  I  not,  however,  in  a 
German  Church,  and  in  conscience  bound  to  be  true  to  its  proper 
historical  life?  Could  I  deserve  to  be  regarded  an^-thing  better 
than  a  traitor  to  my  trust,  if  I  made  it  to  overflow  and  overwhelm 
this  life  with  foreign  modes  of  thought,  derived  purely  from  Scot- 
land or  New   England?     I  would   say  solemnly:    No  man  has  a 


Chap.  XXYII]  reply  to  dr.  hodge  293 

right  to  take  adcantaye  of  his  position  in  a  German  Church  for  any 
such  purpose  as  this.  It  is  well,  indeed,  that  it  should  be  Ameri- 
canized; all  nationalities  require  that;  and  the  process  must  always 
involve  their  approximation  to  a  common  standard.  But  Ameri- 
canization in  religion  is  not  at  once  subjection  to  the  one  single 
type  of  thinking  that  prevails  in  New  England  or  the  Presb^'terian 
Church.  It  should  be  the  result  of  our  diflerent  nationalities,  work- 
ing into  each  other  in  a  free  way. 

"What  we  need  is  a  more  thoroughly  scientific  apprehension, 
not  only  of  the  letter  and  shell  of  Christianity  simply,  but  of  its 
true  divine  contents  ;  and  this,  I  feel  very  sure,  can  never  be 
reached  by  any  process,  in  which  the  results  of  the  later  German 
theology  are  ignored  or  trampled  uninquiringly  under  foot.  It  is 
not  necessary,  of  course,  that  we  should  follow  them  in  any  blind 
slavish  way  ;  but  we  must  at  least  treat  them  with  such  respect  as 
is  due,  all  the  world  over,  to  the  earnest  wrestling  of  earnest  minds 
with  the  most  solemn  problems  of  our  general  human  life.  What 
philosopher  can  now  deserve  to  be  heard  who  is  altogether  igno- 
rant of  Kant  and  Hegel  ?  What  system  of  Ethics  may  be  counted 
truly  scientific,  which  owes  nothing  to  the  labors  of  Schleiermacher, 
Daub  or  Richard  Rothe  ?  Still  more;  can  any  treatise  on  sin  be 
now  complete,  which  leaves  out  of  view  entirel}'  through  ignorance 
or  scorn  the  profound  investigations  of  Julius  Mueller?  Can 
any  Christology  be  worth  reading,  that  makes  no  account  of  the 
immortal  work  of  Dorner?  To  ask  such  questions  is  enough. 
Surely  it  is  not  so  perfectly  self-evident,  as  Dr.  Hodge  appears  to 
suppose,  that  German  modes  of  thinking  must  needs  be  false  and 
bad,  the  moment  they  are  found  to  fall  away  from  the  reigning  tra- 
ditions of  America." 

Dr.  Nevin,  in  criticising  Calvin's  view  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  had 
said  that  it  labored  under  a  defective  psychology,  which  he  en- 
deavored to  correct  with  the  help  of  what  he  regarded  as  a  better 
theorv  of  man's  nature.  "  Dr.  Nevin,"  says  Dr.  Hodge, "  attributes  to 
Calvin  a  wrong  psychology  in  reference  to  Christ's  person.  What 
is  that  but  to  attribute  to  him  wrong  views  of  that  person  ?  And 
what  is  that  but  saying  his  own  views  differ  from  those  of  Calvin 
on  the  j)erson  of  Christ?  No  one,  however,  has  pretended  that 
Calvin  had  an}^  peculiar  views  on  that  subject.  In  ditfering  from 
Calvin  on  this  point,  therefore,  he  differs  from  the  whole  Church." 
To  this  Dr.  Nevin  re[)lies  by  asking  a  question.  "  Seriously,"  he 
says,  "can  Dr.  Hodge  suppose  that  every  variation  in  the  science 
of  Psycholog}'   involves    necessaril}-   a   change    or  corresponding 


294  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DlV.  IX 

alteration  in  the  substance  of  the  Christian  faith?  Is  his  own 
psj'chology  at  all  like  that  of  TertuUian,  or  of  the  ancient  Church 
fathers  generally?  Such  changes  necessarily  affect  always, more  or 
less,  the  forjn  of  doctrines  for  the  understanding;  but  the  truth 
itself  may  be  the  same  under  different  forms ;  whence  precisely  the 
idea  of  dogmatic  history.  In  the  Mystical  Presence,  Calvin's  theory 
is  said  to  labor  under  this  view  only,  as  exhibited  through  the 
medium  of  a  defective  psychology;  and  the  better  form  of  our 
present  science  is  employed  accordingly,  not  to  subvert  its  material 
substance,  but  only  to  place  it  in  a  light  more  suitable  to  the  wants 
of  the  understanding  at  this  time.  Dr.  Hodge  employs  a  psychol- 
ogy too  in  the  case;  not  Calvin's  by  any  means ;  but  his  object 
with  it  is  to  kill  the  very  substance  of  the  old  doctrine,  which  it 
has  been  all  along  my  endeavor  to  preserve  alive." — Drs.  Xevin  and 
Hodge  not  only  had  different  psychologies,  but  widely  different 
philosophies  that  controlled,  more  or  less,  their  thinking.  Accord- 
ingly they  could  not  alwaj^s  see  theological  doctrines  in  the  same 
light,  and  much  less  so,  in  their  views  of  the  Lord's  Supper;  for 
just  here  there  is  a  profound  biblical  psychology  underlying  this  in- 
stitution, which  Dr.  Nevin  sought  to  bring  out  and  emphasize,  with- 
out, however,  satisfying  the  psychology  of  his  critic. — Dr.  Hodge 
was  a  Lockian,  an  extreme  nominalist,  and  regarded  all  general 
terms  as  abstractions  of  the  mind  without  reality  or  entity  in  the 
natural  order  of  the  world.  See  Dr.  Hodge's  Systematic  Theology, 
Vol.  II,  on  the  subject  of  Anthropology,  the  first  five  chapters. 

Dr.  Xevin  on  the  other  hand  was  Platonic,  and  a  moderate  realist. 
As  a  general  thing  he  regarded  the  mass  of  our  conceptions  and  ideas 
as  mere  abstractions  formed  by  the  human  mind,  or  as  he  was 
accustomed  to  call  them,  "abstract  generalities;"  but  there  were 
some  generalities,  such  as  the  State,  the  Church,  the  race,  humanit}^, 
the  law  of  life,  life  itself,  corporeity  and  others  which-  had  to  him  a 
concrete  existence.  This  kind  of  realism  pervades  all  of  his  writing, 
and  with  other  profound  thinkers  he  thought  it  helped  very  mate- 
rially^ to  a  right  imderstanding  of  the  Scrii)ture,  much  better  than 
the  old  nominalism.  Of  course  he  did  not  for  a  moment  imagine 
that  the  Word  of  God  must  in  this  way  bow  to  a  school  of  phil- 
osophy for  its  proper  interpretation.  He  firmly  believed  that  he 
found  this  realism  in  the  Bible  itself,  which  throughout  is  its  best 
interpreter. 

Such  in  brief  outline  was  the  nature  of  the  controversy  con- 
ducted by  two  of  the  ablest  theological  professors  in  America  near 
one-half  of  a  centnrv  ago.     It  is  believed  that  it  has  not  been  with- 


Chap.  XXVIIJ  reply  to  dr.  hodge  295 

out  good  results.  It  led  others  to  think,  and  to  study  the  wealth 
of  the  old  confessions,  and  if  with  some  it  dropped  out  of  memory, 
with  others  it  was  of  service  in  begetting  more  elevated  A'iews  of 
the  most  solemn  and  central  institution  in  the  Cliristian  Church. 
Strange  to  sa}^,  such  higher  views  made  their  appearance  a  few  years 
Sigo  in  the  Fresbijterian  /?fL-if  a-, the  successor  of  the  Biblical  Reper- 
tory. They  appeared  in  the  April  number  of  the  jear  188T,  in  an  arti- 
cle on  the  Lord's  Supper,  written  by  the  Rev.  Henry  J.  Van  Dyke, 
D.  D.,  a  prominent  divine  in  the  Presbyterian  Church.  Substan- 
tiall}'  they  agree  with  the  Mystical  Presence  on  the  points  in  which 
the  Bepertory  took  Dr.  Xevin  to  task.  The  writer  refers  to  Dr. 
Charles  Hodge  as  holding  that  there  "were  three  distinct  types 
among  the  Reformed — the  Zwinglian,  the  Calvinistic,  and  an  inter- 
mediate form,  which  latter  ultimately'  became  symbolical,  being 
adopted  in  the  authoritative  standards  of  the  Church,"  in  which  now 
he  "ventures  to  observe  that  Dr.  Hodge  differs  from  most  orthodox 
writers  on  the  subject."  Throughout  the  article  Dr.  Van  Dyke  main- 
tains that  Calvin's  doctrine  became  the  doctrine  of  the  Reformed 
Churches  generally,  as  stronglj^  stated  in  the  Westminster  Con- 
fessions as  in  any  other  Reformed  formularies.  He  also  Avithout 
any  hesitation  asserts  that  the  union  of  believers  with  Christ  and 
their  communion  with  Him  in  the  Lord's  Supper  includes  his  hu- 
manit}-  as  a  matter  of  course  no  less  than  with  his  divinity. 

"The  communion,"  he  says,  "is  the  actual  participation  of  the 
body  and  blood  of  Christ,  that  is,  of  His  divine  human  nature. — 
The  Romish  Church  is  consistent  with  Scripture  (quoad  hoc.  Ed.) 
and  with  the  teaching  of  all  the  Reformed  Confessions,  when  she 
insists  that  Christ's  presence  in  the  Sacrament  includes  His  human 
as  well  as  His  divine  nature,  His  body  and  blood,  as  well  as  His 
deity. — The  Reformed  doctrine  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  as  taught  in 
the  ThirtA'-Xine  Articles  and  in  the  Westminster  Confession,  is  inti- 
mately connected  with  the  two  great  mysteries  of  the  incarnation, 
and  the  personal  union  of  believers  with  Christ.  The  holy  com- 
munion has  its  profound  roots  in  the  one  mystery  and  its  precious 
fruit  in  the  other. — The  Sacrament  is  founded  upon  and  leads  to 
His  one  invisible  person,  which  is  the  reservoir  and  the  channel  of 
all  divine  fulness  for  our  salvation.  He  is  not  and  cannot  be  di- 
vided. His  human  nature  never  had,  and  never  can  have,  au}-  exist- 
ence separate  from  His  Deity. — The  efficacious  manifestation  of 
the  Godhead  in  and  through  the  humanit\'  of  Christ  is  as  permanent 
as  the  incarnation.  The  Son  of  God  was,  from  the  beginning,  the 
living  Word  of  the  Father,  the  fountain   and  origin  of  life;  and 


296  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

now,  since  the  Word  became  flesh,  it  is  the  Son  of  Man  who  has 
power  on  earth  to  forgive  sins,  and  is  exalted  a  prince  and  a  Saviour 
to  give  repentance  and  remission. — When  He  says,  '  I  will  come  to 
you,'  He  certainly  does  not  mean  the  same  thing  as  when  he  says, 
'I  will  send  the  Comforter.'  Wherever  He  is,  there  is  His  thean- 
tliropic  person.  His  human  nature  is  virtually  omnipresent,  be- 
cause it  is  forever  united  to  the  divine."  This  article  of  Dr.  Van 
Dyke  evinces  learning  and  ability,  and  from  his  numerous  refer- 
ences to  the  best  authorities,  shows  that  he  had  thoroughly  studied 
the  subject  upon  which  he  wrote.  It  is,  however,  remarkable,  that 
he  nowhere  mentions  the  Mystical  Presence  or  the  controvers}^  to 
which  it  gave  rise.  Perhaps  both  had  been  forgotten  as  if  buried 
in  the  past.  If  so,  his  testimony  in  favor  of  sound  sacramental 
doctrine  in  the  Presbyterian  Church,  in  which  he  says  "there  is  a 
wide-spread  defection  from  the  doctrine  of  our  standards  in  regard 
to  the  Lord's  Supper,"  is  only  so  much  the  stronger. 

Dr.  Nevin  withdrew  from  the  field  of  combat,  if  not  with  as  much 
apparent  grace  as  his  friend  Dr.  Hodge,  yet  with  dignity,  and  with 
a  clear  consciousness  that  he  had  maintained  the  ground  which  he 
had  talven. 

"  My  work  is  now  done,"  he  says.  "  In  obedience  to  the  Prince- 
ton challenge,  I  have  called  myself  once  more  solemnly  to  account, 
and  endeavored  in  the  fear  of  God  to  sustain  my  own  position  as 
taken  in  the  M^'stical  Presence.  The  whole  sacramental  question 
has  been  re-examined.  The  objections  and  strictures  have  been 
carefull}^  tried  in  the  light  of  history,  as  well  as  by  the  standard  of 
Scripture.  For  the  whole  process,  special  assistance  has  been  at 
hand  besides  in  the  masterly  work  of  Ebrard. 

"As  for  what  is  peculiar  in  the  theory  of  the  Mystical  Presence, 
the  scientific  form  in  which  it  has  been  attempted  to  saA^e  the  sub- 
stance of  the  old  doctrine,  it  is  enough  to  say  that  it  has  passed 
unscathed  through  the  ordeal  at  least  of  this  review.  The  objec- 
tions made  to  it  spring  either  from  gross  misapprehension  of  its 
actual  sense,  or  from  the  false  relation  of  the  reviewer  himself  to 
the  old  church  doctrine.  They  are  conditioned  throughout  by  the 
Nestorian  divorce  of  Christ's  sacrifice  from  his  life,  which  character- 
izes so  unhappily  the  whole  theology  of  Dr.  Hodge.  Still,  if  the 
theory  in  question  were  shown  to  be  unsatisfactory  in  a  scientific 
view,  the  case  would  require  that  it  should  be  given  up  as  a  theory, 
and  some  better  one  if  possible  substituted  in  its  place.  Let  it  ap- 
pear,that  it  is  really  at  war  with  a  single  article  of  the  old  Apostles' 
Creed,  and  I  stand   ready  to   cast  the  first  stone  in  the  work  of 


Chap.  XXYII]  reply  to  dr.  hodge  SDT 

crushing  it  to  death.  I  l.iy  m}'  hand  upon  m^'  heart,  and  before 
heaven  and  earth  pronounce  ever}'  article  of  that  creed  as  my  oitm^ 
and  onl}-  wish,  indeed,  that  I  had  the  opportunit}'  of  doing  it  with 
a  loud  voice, in  the  worshipping  congregation  of  God's  jjeople  ever}- 
Lord's  day. 

"There  ma}-  be  some,  I  trust  not  many,  however,  in  the  German 
Reformed  Church,  who  could  find  all  theological  discussion  of  this 
sort  comparativelj'  unprofitable,  affecting  to  be  so  set  on  loractical 
interests,  as  to  have  no  taste  for  speculation  or  controversy  in  any 
shape.  It  is  good  certainly  to  make  the  life  of  religion  the  main 
thing,  and  to  avoid  vain  disputations  in  regard  to  its  nature.  But 
who  will  pretend  to  say  seriousl}-,  that  the  general  question  here  in 
view  is  of  this  character?  Who  may  not  see,  that  it  goes  at  once 
to  the  ver}-  heart  of  Christianity,  and  links  itself  with  the  most 
momentous  practical  concerns  on  every  side?  Not  to  take  an  in- 
terest in  it  must  argue,  in  a  minister  especially,  such  a  spiritual 
levity,  as  can  hardly  be  reconciled  with  the  idea  of  a  heart-felt  in- 
telligent zeal  for  godliness.  What  think  ye  of  Christ'?  is  the 
searching  interrogation,  which  lies  at  the  bottom  of  this  whole 
inquir}'  concerning  the  character  of  the  new  creation,  comprehended 
in  the  Church.  Is  the  redemption  of  the  Gospel,  including  all  the 
benefits  of  Christ's  life  and  death,  a  concrete  reality,  that  holds  in 
the  force  of  his  living  constitution  as  a  perennial,  indissoluble  fact, 
the  neio  icorld  which  grace  has  made,  and  in  this  alone;  or  is  it  an 
abstraction,  which  may  be  applied  to  men  and  appropriated  by 
foith,  in  no  connection  with  the  Life  b}-  which  it  originallj-  was 
brought  to  pass?  Our  inward  answer  to  all  this  must  be  ever  con- 
ditioned necessarily  by  our  view  of  the  Church;  and  finds  its  exact 
measure  always  in  our  theory  of  the  H0I3'  Sacraments.  Eviscerate 
these  of  their  old  Catholic  sense,  and  it  is  in  vain  to  pretend  toanj^ 
true  faith  in  the  article  of  a  Holy  Catholic  Church,  as  it  stood  in 
the  beginning;  and  without  this  faith  again,  the  Christological 
mystery  is  necessarily  shorn  of  its  proper  significance  and  glory." 

Dr.  Ilodge  reviewed  the  M^-stical  Presence  in  the  April  number 
of  the  Rejiertory^  1848,  and  Dr.  Nevin's  articles  in  repl}',  twelve  in 
number,  appeared  weekly  soon  afterwards,  in  the  Messenger,  from 
the  24th  of  May  to  the  9th  of  August  following.  They  were  of 
unusual  length,  and  no  room  could  have  been  found  for  them  in  any 
of  the  quarterlies  of  the  day,  as  the}-  would  have  fully  filled  out  an 
entire  numl)er.  Published  thus  in  a  denominational  paper,  as  might 
be  supposed,  comparatively  few  of  the  readers  of  the  Repertory  or 
of  the  public  generally  had  an  opportunity  to.se,e  them.  At  home, . 
19 


298  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

however,  they  were  read  with  avidity  by  laymen  as  well  as  min- 
isters, where  they  made  a  deep  impression. 

The  two  great  professors  now  rest  from  their  labors  here  on  earth, 
after  they  had  both  gone  beyond  their  fourscore  years.  What  they 
saw  on  earth  through  a  glass  darkly  is  now  revealed  to  them  clearly 
in  the  light  of  eternity,  and  together  they  enjoy  the  full  fruition  of 
that  wonderful  union  between  Christ  and  his  people,  which  here  in 
time  is  so  much  of  a  mystery.  Dr.  Nevin  had  reason  to  complain 
of  the  manner  in  which  his  work  was  attacked  by  his  old  friend 
at  Princeton,  but  he  never  allowed  any  unkind  feeling  to  arise  in 
his  mind  towards  him.  The  respect  and  esteem  between  the  two 
continued  to  the  end.  Some  years  before  his  death  Dr.  Hodge 
made  it  convenient  to  visit  Lancaster,  and  he  was  heartily  received 
as  a  guest  in  Dr.  Nevin's  family.  The  meeting  and  intercourse 
were  cordial  in  character,  and  tended  very  much  to  cement  the 
friendship  formed  in  their  earlier  years. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

"1  TP  to  the  yenY  1848  Dr.  Nevin  was  necessitated  to  address  the 
^  public  almost  exclusively  through  the  columns  of  the  Weekly 
Messenger^  which,  as  the  organ  of  a  single  religious  denomination, 
had  onh'  a  limited  circulation.  As  this  subjected  him  to  some  incon- 
venience, and  as  moreover  it  was  felt  that  there  was  need  of  a  gen- 
eral medium  in  which  his  more  elaborate  articles  might  appear  in  a 
permanent  form,  the  Alumni  Association  of  Marshall  College, at  its 
annual  meeting  in  1848,  appointed  a  committee  to  establish  such  an 
organ  under  the  editorship  of  Dr.  Xevin.  It  had  indeed  been 
spoken  of  at  other  meetings,  but  at  this  one,  Henry  A.  Mish,  Esq., 
lawyer  and  editor  at  Mercersburg,  offered  to  publish  a  review,  pro- 
vided he  received  the  necessar}^  support  from  the  Alumni  and 
others,  and  a  committee  was  appointed  to  take  the  matter  in  hand. 
The  proposition  excited  a  generous  enthusiasm,  and  b^'  the  end  of 
the  3'ear  it  was  believed  that  it  would  be  safe  to  embark  in  such  an 
enterprise.  Dr.  Nevin,  for  reasons  satisfactory  to  himself,  declined 
to  become  the  responsible  editor,  but  cheerfuU}-  consented  to  be 
the  leading  contributor,  which  was  about  the  same  thing,  and  in 
the  end  something  better.  Th^  new  periodical  was  called  the 
Mercersburg  Review,  no  difficulty  being  experienced  in  finding  for 
it  an  appropriate  name.  The  first  number  appeared  on  the  1st  of 
January,  1849,  and  from  that  time  onward  once  every  two  months; 
the  strong  desire  to  see  and  read  it,  preventing  it  from  becoming  a 
quarterly  at  once.  It  paid  the  printer,  but  no  one  else,  because  no 
one  concerned  in  it  wished  to  be  paid.  It  was,  however,  enthusias- 
tically received  and  read  within  the  circle  of  its  friends,  the  Alumni, 
the  clergy  of  the  Church  and  others.  It  was  edited  with  ability, 
and  arrested  attention  not  only  in  this  country,  but  occasionally  in 
England  and  Scotland.  B'or  vigor  and  freshness  of  thought  it 
compared  favorably  with  the  best  publications  of  the  kind  in  the 
country.  The  article  in  the  first  number  by  Dr.  Nevin  on  '"The 
Year  1848  "  was  vigorous,  hopeful,  and  somewhat  optimistic ;  and  as 
it  was  in  some  degree  a  mirror  of  his  mind,  it  showed  better  than 
anything  else  where  he  stood  at  this  period,  distressed  with  anxiety 
about  the  state  of  the  Church,  yet  hopeful  that  God  in  His  all-wise 
Providence  would  bring  order  out  of  confusion,  a  new  cosmos  out 
of  the  old  chaos. 

(299) 


300  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [BlV.  IX 

As  lie  soon  afterwards  freed  himself  from  the  responsibility  of 
the  theological  chair,  where  he  had  to  confine  himself,  more  or  less, 
to  denominational  theolog3',  he  felt  himself,  in  a  larger  degree,  free 
to  discuss  the  more  general  and  vital  questions  of  the  times.  These 
all  were,  in  one  wa}-  or  another,  christological  and  closely  con- 
nected with  the  Church  Question.  The  latter  now,  more  than  ever 
before,  began  to  engage  his  waking  and  .perhaps  his  sleeping  hours. 
Never  before,  perhaps,  did  philosopher,  scientist  or  theologian  be- 
stow more  study  or  pra3'erful  attention  than  he  to  any  deep  prob- 
lem that  called  for  solution.  Many  in  England,  like  Newman  and 
Manning,  or  like  Haecker  and  Brownson,  in  this  countr}^,  settled  it 
for  themselves  by  falling  over  into  the  Catholic  Church ;  whilst 
nearly  everj-body  else  here  and  abroad,  following  in  the  lead  of 
Brownlee,  Breckenridge,  Berg,  and  others,  thought  it  could  be 
settled  only  by  destro^'ing  the  Church  of  Rome  in  its  roots  and 
branches.  Dr.  Nevin,on  the  other  hand,  thought  that  the  question 
was  one  that  ought  to  be  studied  and  solved  in  some  more  rational 
way,  by  allowing  neither  extreme  to  settle  it  for  others.  He  never 
imagined  that  he  was  prepared  to  solve  it  fully  himself,  but  he  was 
quite  willing  to  make  such  contributions  towards  its  solution  as 
lay  within  the  compass  of  his  power.  The  Mercershurg  Review  of- 
fered him  such  an  opportunity,  and  the  Reformed  Church  afforded 
him  the  necessar}"  freedom  of  action  for  discussing  the  great  ques- 
tion. 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  his  trenchant  articles  excited 
alarm,  and  in  the  year  1851  those  on  "Early  Christianity"  induced 
a  somewhat  nervous  editor  of  the  Weekly  Messenger  to  pronounce  a 
caveat  or  a  subdued  alarm.  But  the  "leading  contributor"  to  the 
Beview  continued  to  contribute  article  after  article  with  a  remark- 
able fluency  of  pen  until  the  3'ear  1852,  whether  they  pleased  ever}'- 
body  or  not.  Having  finished  his  fourth  article  on  Cyprian,  he 
thought  he  had  performed  his  share  of  the  work  and  supposing,  not 
perhaps  without  some  feeling  of  discouragement,  that  the  Reviexo 
had  fulfilled  its  mission,  he  recommended  that  it  should  be  discon- 
tinued. There  were  some  who  were  anxious  that  this  should  be 
done  to  prevent  strife,  and  a  learned  Doctor  of  Divinity  earnestl}- 
urged  the  writer,  the  chairman  of  the  Publishing  Committee,  to 
stop  the  Review  at  once,  and  to  burn  all  the  printed  sheets  in  the 
hands  of  the  printer  for  the  last  number  of  the  3'ear.  But  at  the  Com- 
mencement in  the  latter  part  of  September,  the  continuance  of  the 
Revieiv  for  another  year  was  referred  to  the  Alumni  at  their  annual 
meeting.    The  atmosphere  was  rnurk^',  and  it  appeared  as  if  it  might 


Chap.  XXVIII]        the  mercersbuik!  revikw  301 

1)0  t:iken  for  granted  that  the  Committee  would  be  exonerated  from 
further  service  in  conducting  the  periodical;  but  when  it  was  ascer- 
tained that  it  paid  expenses,  one  Alumnus  after  another  arose  up  in 
the  meeting  and  favored  its  continued  i)ublication,  urging  that  it 
was  needed  as  a  bond  of  union  between  the  members,  and  that  it 
might  be  made  useful  to  themselves  and  others,  independently  of 
the  immediate  object  which'  had  called  it  forth  as  an  organ  for  Dr. 
Nevin.  Eloquent  speeches  were  made  in  its  support,  and  the  feel- 
ing became  A-ery  strong  that  the  discontinuance  of  the  Bevieio  at  the 
time  would  be  a  calamit}',  which  ought  by  all  means  to  be  averted. 
The  enthusiastic  feeling  awakened  at  this  meeting  seemed  to  have 
an  electric  influence,  and  had  the  effect  of  rendering  this  commence- 
ment one  of  a  most  pleasant  character.  It  opened  with  the  gloom 
of  a  rainj'  morning,  but,  after  this  meeting  of  the  Alumni,  it  ended 
with  a  clear  sk}'  and  a  bright  sunset.  It  was  not  the  first  instance  in 
which  the  30ung  and  vigorous  have  given  inspiration  to  their  elders 
under  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day.  It  showed,  at  least,  which 
way  the  wind  was  blowing.  Dr.  Schaff  was  ([uite  surprised,  could 
not  talk  enough  about  it,  and  thought  there  must  be  something  in  it. 
Dr.  Xevin,  on  the  other  hand,  smiled  and  said  that  it  might  be  well 
after  all  to  try  the  experiment  of  continuing  the  Review;  it  was 
iinderstood  that  he  would  always  be  a  welcome  contributor  to  its 
columns,  and  that  from  time  to  time  the  Review  might  still  become 
a  necessity  when  he  wished  to  communicate  his  thoughts  to  the 
public. 

From  the  j-ear  1849-1853  the  Review  continued  to  be  published 
b^-  the  Publishing  Committee  as  a  bi-monthly.  After  that  it  ap- 
peared quarterl}'  under  the  title  of  the  Mercer ahurg  Quarterly  Re- 
view^ up  to  the  year  18.57,  when  Dr.  E.  Y.  Gerhart  and  Dr.  Philip 
Schaff  were  appointed  editors.  They  remained  in  this  position 
until  the  year  1861,  when,  on  account  of  the  distracted  state  of  the 
country,  it  was  thought  best  to  discontinue  tlie  further  publication 
of  the  Review  for  the  time  being.  During  this  period  of  its  his- 
tory it  had  retained  its  original  motto,  a  quotation  froni  Anselm  : 
Neque  enim  qasero  intelligere  id  credaw,  sed  credo  tit  intelligam. 
In  the  year  1867  it  was  revived  and  published  by  S.  R.  Fisher  & 
Co.,  under  its  first  title,  the  Mercershurg  Review:  an  organ  for 
Christological,  Historical  and  Positive  Theology;  edited  by  Rev. 
Henry  Ilarbaugh,  D.  D.  Its  motto  was  exchanged  for  another, 
which  was  taken  this  time  from  Irena'us  :  Liius  Christus  Jesus, 
Dominus  noster,  veniens  per  universam  disposition  em,  et  omnia  in 
semet  ipsum  recapitulans.     Rev.  Dr.  Thomas  G.  Appel  has  been  its 


302  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

editor  from  1868  to  the  present  time,  having  Rev.  Dr.  E.  E.  Highee 
associated  with  him  as  co-editor  for  several  j-ears,  and  for  the  last 
five  or  six  j^ears  past  the  Rev.  J.  M.  Titzel,  D.  D.  Its  motto  at 
present  is  more  practical,  but  just  as  profound  as  those  which  went 
before:    The  Tntth  shall  make  you  free. 

This  Review  all  along  has  maintained  a  high  character  for  variety 
of  learning,  ability  and  vigor,  among  other  periodicals  of  a  similar 
character.  Under  all  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  its  history  is 
in  fact  something  phenomenal,  as  evincing  the  rapid  spread  of  the- 
ological culture  in  a  German  Church,  in  which  forty  or  fifty  years 
ago  there  were  very  few  of  its  ministers  or  laymen,  who  could  write 
out  a  thesis  in  theology  in  the  English  language  with  comfort  to 
themselves  or  others.  After  Dr.  Nevin  withdrew  from  the  Review 
he  continued  to  contribute  to  its  columns  articles  of  great  value 
from  time  to  time  until  the  year  1883,  when  failing  eye-sight  com- 
pelled him  to  lay  aside  his  prolific  pen.  We  here  give  a  list  of  all 
the  articles  that  he  wrote  for  the  Review  during  each  j^ear  for  a 
space  of  thirty-five  years.  Most  of  his  contributions  were  of  more 
than  ordinary  length;  the}'  were  about  100  in  number  and  filled 
over  2,800  pages  of  the  Review. — It  is  needless  to  say  that  every 
article  sought  earnestl^'^  to  establish  some  important  truth  or  to 
promote  some  practical  end. 

i<^4P._Preliminary  Statement.— The  Year  1848.— True  and  False 
Protestantism,  a  review  of  Dr.  Schaff's  Principle  of  Protestantism. 
— The  Apostles'  Creed,  concluded  in  three  articles. — Sartorius  on 
the  Work  and  Person  of  Christ. — False  Protestantism. — Kirwan's 
Letters  to  Bishop  Hughes. — Zwingli  no  Radical. — Notices  of  Prof. 
Adler's  Dictionary  of  the  German  and  English  languages,  and  of 
three  Discourses  on  God  in  Christ,  delivered  at  New  Haven,  Cam- 
bridge and  Andover. — The  Classis  of  Mercersburg  and  the  Endow- 
ment of  the  Seminar3^ — Morell's  Philosophy  of  Religion. — The 
Lutheran  Confession. — The  Sect  System,  in  two  articles. — Histori- 
cal Development. — Puritanism  and  the  Creed. — The  Liturgical 
Movement. — In  all  nineteen  articles,  occupying  306  pages  out  of 
the  612  in  the  volume. 

1850. — The  New  Creation. — Brownson  Quarterly  Review,  two 
articles. — Faith,  Reverence  and  Freedom. — Wilberforce  on  the  In- 
carnation.— Noel  on  Baptism. — Bible  Christianit}'. — Doctrine  of 
the  Reformed  Church  on  the  Lord's  Supper. — The  Moral  Order  of 
Sex. — The  New  Testament,  by  R.  C.  Trench,  M.  A. — Trench's  Lec- 
tures.    Eleven  articles.     Pp.  269. 

1851. — Catholicism. — Liebner's  Christology. — Neander's  Practi- 


Chap.  XXYIII]       the  mercersburg  review  303 

cal  Exegesis — Modern  Civilizutiou,  by  Kev.  J.  Balmes. — Cur  Deus 
Homo. — Elements  of  Christian  Science,  b}'^  William  Adams,  S.  T. 
D. — Scliaft"s  History  of  the  Apostolic  Church. — The  Apostle  Peter, 
translated  from  Schatf's  History  of  the  Apostolic  Church. — The 
Anglican  Crisis. — The  H0I3'  Eucharist. — Early  Christianity,  two 
articles. — Zacharius  ITrsinus.     Thirteen  articles.     Pp.  .3.34. 

18')2. — Early  Christianity,  the  third  article. — Fairbauk's  T3'pol- 
og}-. — The  Heidelberg  Catechism. — A  Word  of  Explanation  to  the 
Church  jRecieic. — Cyprian  in  four  articles. — Dr.  Berg's  Last  Words. 
— Book  Notices. — Anti-Creed  Heres3'. — Closing  Notice.  Twelve 
articles.     Pp.  300. 

1853. — Address  at  the  Formal  Opening  of  Franklin  and  Marshall 
College,  June  7,  1853. — Man's  True  Destiny-;  Address  to  the  First 
Graduating  Class  of  Franklin  and  Marshall  College,  Aug.  31, 1853. 
Two  articles.     Pp.  334. 

18o4- — Dutch  Crusade. — Wilberforce  on  the  Eucharist.  Two 
articles.     Pp.  71. 

I800. — Introductor}'  Address  at  the  Inauguration  of  Rev.  Dr.  B. 
C.  Wolff,  as  Professor  of  Theology,  delivered  at  Chambersburg,  Pa. 
Pp.  20. 

I806. — The  Church  Year. — Christian  H^mnology.  Two  articles. 
Pp.  72. 

1857. — Two  articles  on  Dr.  Hodge's  Commentary  on  the  Ephe- 
sians.     Pp.  92. 

I808. — Thoughts  on  the  Church,  in  two  articles.     Pp.  59. 

I80O. — The  Natural  and  Supernatural. — The  Wonderful  Nature 
of  Man. — Eulogy  on  Dr.  Ranch,  repeated.    Three  articles.     Pp.  83. 

1800.— The  Old  Doctrine  of  Christian  Baptism.     Pp.  26. 

1861. — Jesus  and  the  Resurrection.     Pp.  23. 

1867. — The  Theolog}'  of  the  New  Liturgy. — Arianism. — Athana- 
sius. — Commencement  Address. — Athanasian  Creed. — Our  Rela- 
tions to  Germany.     Six  articles.     Pp.  111. 

1868. — Presbyterian  Union  Convention. — Dorner's  History'  of 
Protestant  Theology,  two  articles. — Answer  to  Professor  Dorner, 
Four  articles.     Pp.  226. 

1869. — Origin  and  Structure  of  the  Apostles'  Creed. — The  Unit}' 
of  the  Apostles'  Creed.     Two  articles.     P[).  14. 

1870.— OncQ  for  All.     Pp.  20. 

1871.— The  Revelation  of  God  in  Christ.— Education.     Pp.  31. 

1872.— Chv\st  and  His  Spirit.     Pp.  40. 

1873. — The  Old  Catholic  Movement. — Christianity  and  lluniun- 
ity.     Two  articles.     Pp.  74. 


304  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

187 J^. — Apollos  :  or  the  Way  of  God. — Reply  to  an  Anglican 
Catholic.     Two  articles.     Pp.  12. 

i<?7g._The  Spiritual  World.     Pp.  28. 

1877. — The  Testimony  of  Jesus. — The  Spirit  of  Prophec}'. — 
Biblical  Anthropology.     Three  articles.     Pp.  49. 

1878. — Sacred  Hermeneutics. — The  Supreme  Epiphany  ;  God's 
voice  out  of  the  Cloud.     Two  articles.     Pp.  83. 

1879. — The  Bread  of  Life  :  A  Communion  Sermon.     Pp.  35. 

i^^^._The  Pope's  Encyclical.     Pp.  46. 

1882. — Christ,  the  Inspiration  of  His  Own  Word.     Pp.  41. 

1883. — Inspiration  of  the  Bible.     Pp.  36. — Last  article. 

From  the  titles  of  the  articles  just  named  it  will  be  seen  that  Dr. 
Nevin  at  this  time  wrote  out  his  views  on  many  of  the  most  pro- 
found questions  of  the  day.  No  one,  it  is  believed,  can  read  them 
.without  admiring  the  ability,  courage  and  the  spirit  with  which 
they  were  written.  In  his  own  peculiar  style  he  developed  with 
much  vigor  the  doctrine  of  the  Person  of  Christ ;  of  the  nature  and 
attributes  of  the  Church,  His  Mystical  Body;  of  the  Sacraments; 
the  theology  of  the  Apostolic  Symbol ;  the  difference  between  pa- 
tristic and  American  Christianity;  the  relation  of  Freedom  to  Au- 
thority^, and  of  Faith  to  Knowledge;  of  Christianity  to  Civilization ; 
and  in  short  the  deepest  questions  of  the  age.  At  the  same  time 
with  rare  polemic  ability,  and  dexterity,  not  without  some  biting 
sarcasm,  or  a  stroke  of  drollery  or  humor  now  and  then,  he  attacked 
popular  errors,  more  particularly,  religious  and  political  radicalism, 
socialism  and  the  materialistic  tendency  of  the  times. — We  here 
give  in  a  condensed  form  the  general  drift  of  some  few  of  the  arti- 
cles which  exhibit  Dr.  Xevin's  general  system  of  thought.  They 
arrested  attention  at  the  time;  thej^  have  a  bearing  also  on  living 
questions  at  the  present  day;  and  in  fact  very  much  so,  because 
they  were  in  a  great  measure  in  advance  of  their  age. 

The  Lutheran  Confession. — The  first  number  of  the  Mercershui'g 
Revieiv  appeared  on  the  1st  of  January,  1849,  and  was  followed  by 
the  Evangelical  or  Lutheran  i?e(;iew  at  Gettysburg  on  the  1st  of 
July  following.  Dr.  Nevin  gave  it  a  commendatory  notice  soon 
afterwards  in  his  own  organ  at  Mercersburg. 

"We  welcome  this  review,"  he  writes,  "because  its  banner  is  un- 
furled in  favor  of  true  Lutheranism,  in  the  bosom  of  the  American 
German  Church.  It  is  understood  to  go  decidedly  for  the  standards 
and  true  historical  life  of  the  Lutheran  Church.  This  does  not  im- 
ply that  it  is  to  make  common  cause  with  the  stiff"  exclusive  pedan- 
try of  the  Altlatherane?^,  technicallj^  so  called,  who  come  before  us 


ClIAP.  XXVIII]  TllK    LITHEKAN    CONFESSION  305 

in  the  German  Church  as  a  fiiir  panillel  to  tlie  similar  petrifeetion, 
which  is  presented  to  our  view  in  the  pedantry  of  the  Scotch  Se- 
ceders.  What  lives  must  move.  The  Review  proposes  no  substi- 
tution of  dead  men's  bones  for  what  was  once  their  living  spirit. 
But  this  spirit  itself  it  will  seek  to  understand  and  honor,  with  due 
regard  to  the  wants  of  the  Church  as  it  now  stands.  It  will  not  be 
ashamed  of  the  Augsburg  Confession.  It  will  speak  reverently, 
at  least,  of  the  Form  of  Concord,  as  well  as  of  the  great  and  good 
men  to  whom  it  owes  its  origin.  It  will  not  dream  of  sundering 
the  stream  of  Lutheranism  from  its  human  historical  fountain  in 
the  sixteenth  century  by  the  miserable  fiction  of  an  American  Lu- 
theranism in  no  living  and  inward  connection  with  the  Lutheranism 
of  J^urope;  the  name  i\\\\ii  made  to  stand  for  everything  and  the 
substance  for  nothing.  It  will  not  stultify  Luther  himself,  by 
professing  to  accept  his  creed  and  magnify  his  name,  whilst  the 
very  core  of  all,  his  Sacramental  faith,  without  which  his  creed  had 
for  himself  no  meaning  or  force,  is  cast  aside  as  a  silh*  imperti- 
nence, deserving  only  of  pity  or  contempt.  The  Remew  proposes 
to  stand  forth,  in  one  word,  as  the  representative  of  all  true  bona 
fide  Lutheranism,  in  the  old  sense,  as  it  was  held,  for  instance,  by 
Melanchthon  in  the  age  of  the  Reformation,  and  as  it  is  now  held  by 
many  of  the  best  and  most  learned  men  in  Germany.  This  it  i)ro- 
poses  to  do  here  on  American  ground,  in  full  face  of  the  unsacrn- 
mental  thinking  with  which  it  is  surrounded  on  all  sides,  and  in 
full  view  of  the  scorn,  open  or  quiet,  that  is  to  be  expected  at  its 
hands.  In  all  this,  as  already  said,  we  unfeignedly  rejoice.  We 
are  glad  that  Lutheranism  has  found  an  organ,  after  so  long  a  time, 
to  plead  its  own  cause,  before  the  American  Church;  and  we  are 
glad  it  has  found  such  an  organ  to  plead  this  cause  so  ably  and  so 
well. 

"  A  re  we  then  Lutheran  ?  Just  as  little  as  we  have  become  Roman. 
As  we  stand  externally  in  the  Reformed  Church,  we  find  in  it.  also, 
the  only  satisfactory  resting  place  at  present  for  our  faith;  but  we 
believe  that  Lutheranism  and  Reform,  the  two  great  phases  of  the 
Reformation,  may  be  brought  together  with  mutual  inward  modifica- 
tion, so  that  neither  shall  necessarily  exclude  the  other;  that  each 
rather  shall  serve  to  make  the  other  more  perfect  and  complete; 
and  we  earnestly  long  for  this  union;  but  so  long  as  the  antithesis, 
which  thus  far  in  itself  has  been  real  and  not  imaginary  only,  is  not 
advanced  to  this  inward  solution  and  reconciliation,  we  are  in 
l)rinciple  Reformed,  and  not  Lutheran.  In  jJurticnlMr,  we  accept 
Calvin's  idea  of  Christ's  presence  in  the  Eucharist,  as  sot   forth  in 


306  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

the  Heidelberg  Catechism;  and  abhor  the  rationalistic  frivolity  b}- 
which  the  mystery  is  so  commonly  denied. 

"  But  we  look  upon  Lutheranism,  in  the  present  stadium  of  Chris- 
tianity, as  a  necessary  part  of  the  constitution  of  Protestantism. 
Our  idea  of  Protestantism  is,  that  the  two  great  confessions  into 
which  it  was  sundered  at  the  start,  the  Lutheran  and  the  Reformed, 
grew  with  inward  necessity  out  of  the  movement  itself,  carrying  in 
themselves  thus  a  relative  reason  and  right  of  the  same  general 
nature  with  what  must  be  allowed  in  favor  of  the  Reformation 
itself.  Protestantism,  therefore,  includes  in  itself  two  tendencies, 
both  of  which  enter  legitimately  into  its  life;  while,  at  the  same 
time,  each  seems  to  involve  the  destruction  of  the  other.  This, 
however,  onlj^  shows  that  the  truth  of  it  must  hold  at  last,  in  some 
way,  in  such  a  union  of  these  forces  as  shall  make  them  to  be  one. 
"  The  two  original  confessions  came  not  thus  by  accident,  but  by 
the  logical  law  of  the  vast  fact  of  Protestantism  itself;  with  a 
necessity,  however,  which  is  not  absolute  but  relative,  and  there- 
fore interimistic,  destined,  accordingly,  in  due  time  to  pass  away 
in  their  inward  amalgamation;  a  result  which  will  also  no  doubt 
involve  a  full  conciliation  of  the  Protestant  principle,  as  a  whole, 
not  with  Romanism  as  it  now  stands,  but  still  with  the  deep  truth 
of  Catholicism,  from  which  in  the  wa}^  of  abuse  the  Roman  error 
originally  sprang.  All  which  may  our  Blessed  Lord  hasten,  in  His 
own  time  and  way. 

"  The  case  being  thus,  it  is  plain  that  Lutheranism  can  ncA^er  give 
the  full  sense  of  the  Protestant  Church  b}^  carrying  out  simply  its 
own  life  in  a  separate  and  one-sided  way ;  but  it  is  also  just  as  plain 
that  this  is  quite  as  little  to  be  expected  from  the  Reformed  confes- 
sion under  a  like  exclusive  view.  This  seems  to  be  a  well  nigh  self- 
proving  axiom  for  such  as  have  any  true  faith  in  the  Reformation 
as  God's  work,  and  any  true  insight  into  the  constitutional  reason 
of  the  two  confessions  as  its  immediate  and  necessary  product. — 
The  Reformed  Church  can  never  fulfill  its  mission,  either  in  the- 
ology or  practical  piety,  without  the  Lutheran.  The  only  sufficient 
and  rational  adjustment  of  the  antithesis,  which  holds  between  the 
two  coiifessions,  is  such  as  shall  do  full  justice  to  the  full  weight  of 
the  antithesis  itself,  by  bringing  its  two  sides  into  such  harmony 
that  each  shall  be  the  complement  of  the  other.  The  problem  then 
in  the  case  is  not  to  denounce  and  damn,  nor  3'et  to  ignore  and  for- 
get, but  in  love  to  reconcile^  and  so  surmount  the  difficulty  that  is 
found  to  be  really  in  the  way. 

''  The  old  confessional  antithesis,  which  was  felt  to  be  so  deep  and 


Chap.  XXYIII]       the  Lutheran  confession  307 

vital  ill  the  age  of  the  Reformation,  lias  with  us  ai)parently  gone  al- 
most entire] 3'  into  oblivion.  The  age  is  supposed  to  have  got  beyond 
it  and  to  stand  on  higher  ground. — liUtheranisin  has  been  in  this 
country  a  perfectly  foregone  cause.  Our  Protestantism  has  planted 
itself  wholly  on  the  Reformed  side  of  the  old  confessional  line;  in 
such  a  way,  however,  as  to  make  no  account  of  any  such  line,  with 
the  assumption,  rather,  that  the  ground  thus  taken  covers  the  whole 
sense  of  Protestantism,  and  that  it  offers  no  other  licld  properl3' 
for  theological  distinctions.  Our  Evangelical  Christianity,  in  gen- 
eral, shows  in  this  respect  the  same  character.  The  true  Lutheran 
element  has  no  place  in  it  whatever,  and  Luther  would  not  feel 
himself  at  all  at  home  in  our  churches.  The  Protestantism  of  Xew 
England,  which  in  some  sense  rules  our  religious  life,  is  the  extreme 
Left,  we  may  say,  of  the  Reformed  wing  of  this  faith,  to  which  the 
verv  existence  of  Lutheranism  has  come  to  be  a  mere  byword. 

"And  yet,  what  is  Protestant  theology  as  a  science,  if  no  account 
is  made  in  it  of  the  vast  achievements  of  the  Lutheran  Church  ? 
Our  reigning  theology  feels  itself  to  be  absolutel}'  complete  in  the 
Reformed  shape  only,  and  for  the  most  part  goes  on  the  assump- 
tion that  all  else  is  now,  and  ever  has  been,  sheer  unbiblical  fancy, 
of  which,  for  solid  proper  purpose  in  his  profession,  the  minister 
ma}^  just  as  well  be  ignorant. — No  wonder  that  the  whole  interest 
should,  in  this  state  of  things,  be  so  widely  treated  as  a  theological 
nullit}'.  One  whole  side  of  Protestant  theology  has  thus  been  here 
in  America  as  good  as  extinct ;  and  it  has  been  taken  for  granted 
in  every  direction,  that  it  was  absolutely  full  and  complete  in  the 
form  simply  of  the  other  side.  Our  theological  questions,  it  is 
well  known,  turn  almost  exclusively  on  this  assumption,  based  on 
Reformed  premises  only,  as  if  nobody  could  now^  dream  of  includ- 
ing anything  beyond  these  in  the  conception  of  Protestantism. 

"Now  this  involves,  of  course,  a  gross  insult  upon  the  American 
Lutheran  Church  itself,  which  is  only  made  worse  by  the  kind 
courtesies,  which  may  seem,  in  part  at  least,  to  go  along  with  it. 
Rut  such  vast  wrong  done  to  one  whole  hemisphere  of  Protestant- 
ism, whose  rights  are  just  as  legitimate  and  clear  historically  as 
those  of  the  other,  must  of  necessity  infer  vast  wrong  to  this  also, 
as  having  no  power  to  remain  true  to  itself  in  any  such  isolated 
and  abstract  view.  AVe  can  hold  it  for  a  fixed  maxim,  that  the 
genuine  Reformed  tendency  can  continue  to  be  genuine,  only  in 
connection  with  the  TjUtheran  tendency,  with  which  it  divided  in 
the  l)eginning  the  universal  force  of  the  Protestant  movenn'ut.  It 
can  never  coini)lete  itself  by  falling  away  from  this  entirely,  losing 


308  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

all  sense  of  its  presence,  or  treating  it  as  an  impertinent  and  sense- 
less nothing  :  this  must  amount  at  last  to  a  falling  awa}"  from  Prot- 
estantism itself.  It  can  never  complete  itself,  as  in  the  case  of 
Lutheranism  also,  except  by  recognizing  the  weight  that  actually  be- 
longs to  its  twin-born  counterpoise,  and  so  leaning  towards  it  as  to 
come  with  it  finally  into  the  power  of  a  single  life,  that  shall  be 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other  separately'  taken,  but  both  at  once 
thus  raised  to  their  highest  sense. 

"A  Christianit}',  then,  that  ignores  and  rejects  in  full  the  Lu- 
theran element  can  never  be  sound  and  whole.  On  the  contrary, 
all  such  abstractions  fill  us  with  misgivings  and  distrust.  We 
have  no  f!^ith  in  a  religion  that  takes  half  of  the  Reformation  as  a 
whole.  We  have  no  disposition  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  a  theology, 
that  3'awns  over  the  vast  confessional  interest  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  as  a  stale  and  tedious  thing ;  that  takes  no  pleasure,  of 
course,  in  the  true  central  church  questions  of  our  own  time,  all 
revolving  as  the}'  do,  more  or  less,  around  the  same  deep  problem, 
and  struggling  towards  its  solution  ;  but  gives  us  instead  the  for- 
mulas and  shibboleths  only  of  some  single  denomination,  a  mere 
fragment  of  the  Reformed  section  of  Protestantism  at  best,  as  the 
quintessence  and  ne  plus  ultima  of  all  divinity.  No  such  theology 
can  be  safe.  With  inward  necessity  it  tends  towards  rationalism, 
or  the  region  of  thin  void  space.  In  due  course  of  time  it  must 
cease  to  be  Reformed  as  well  as  Lutheran,  passing  clear  over  the 
true  Protestant  horizon  altogether,  with  imminent  hazard  of  losing 
finally  even  its  form  of  sound-words,  as  far  as  this  may  go,  in  a 
system  that  revolves  all  mystery  into  sheer  abstraction,  and  owns 
the  supernatural  only  as  an  object  of  thought. 

"  Wliat  we  have  now  said  may  suffice  to  explain,  how  it  is  that 
we  are  led  to  hail,  with  unaflTected  satisfaction,  the  appearance  of 
the  Getft/shiirg  Evangelical  Review^  set  as  it  is,  and  we  trust  also 
powerfully  and  efficiently  set,  for  the  defence  of  what  is  compre- 
hended for  our  common  Protestantism  in  the  great  and  mighty 
confessional  interest  of  Lutheranism.  We  consider  it  important 
in  this  view  b^'  itself;  but  we  regard  it  vastly  more  important  as  a 
sign  and  evidence — one  large  sign  among  many  others  as  3'et  less 
notable — that  the  American  Lutheran  Church,  not  dead  heretofore 
but  sleeping,  is  about  now  to  shake  otf  its  theological  slumbers, 
and  address  itself  as  a  strong  man  to  the  work  of  its  own  true  and 
proper  mission  in  the  general  problem  of  American  Christianity. 
It  were  a  burning  shame  that  in  such  a  country  as  ours  the  Church 
of  Luther  as  such  should  not  be  heard  and  felt  in  the  ultimate  con- 


Chap.  XXYIII]       the  Lutheran  confession  309 

stitutioii  of  the  national  faith.  Besides,  it  were  a  deep  and  irre- 
parable loss  to  this  faith  itself,  not  to  be  completed  in  this  wa}-.  All 
who  take  an  interest  in  American  Christianity  must  deprecate  the 
idea  of  its  being  permanently  divorced, — as  it  has  been, for  instance, 
thus  far  in  New  England — from  the  deep  rich  wealth  of  the  old 
Lutheran  creed.  Our  Reformed  theology  needs,  above  all  things, 
just  now,  for  its  support  and  vigorous  development  the  felt  pres- 
ence of  the  great  Lutheran  antithesis  as  it  stood  in  the  begin- 
ning, '  It  can  never  prosper,  in  any  manly  style,  without  this  con- 
dition. The  very  conception  of  such  merely  sectarian  divinity,  as 
something  thus  scientifically  complete  within  itself,  is  preposter- 
ous. Let  Lutheranism,  then,  by  all  means  flourish — for  the  sake 
of  that  which  is  not  Lutheran.  We  bid  the  Evangelical  Review 
God-speed."     See  ^lerceraburg  Becieic,  Sept.  Xo.,  1849. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE  Anglican  Crisis. — "There  are  many,"  says  the  reviewer, 
"  who  make  it  a  point  to  treat  the  whole  subject  of  the  Angli- 
can Crisis  with  an  air  of  easy  superiority  and  disdain;  as  though 
there  were  no  room  in  truth  for  any  rational  controversy  in  the 
case,  and  so  of  course  no  ground  for  apprehension  with  regard  to 
its  ultimate  issues,  and,  therefore,  no  occasion  for  any  special  in- 
terest in  its  progress.  It  is  wonderful,  reall}',  how  easily  and  how 
soon  this  unchurchly  and  unsacramental  school  in  general  are  able 
to  make  a  full  end  of  this  deepest  problem  of  the  age,  and  to  gain 
a  height  of  serene  conviction  in  relation  to  it,  that  sets  them  beyond 
the  reach  of  all  the  doubt  and  difficulties  that  seem  to  surround  it 
to  minds  of  another  cast  and  make.  To  them  the  whole  Church 
question,  as  it  now  disturbs  the  peace  of  England,  is  nonsense  and 
folly;  they  see  to  the  bottom  of  it  at  once,  and  only  wonder  that 
men  of  education  and  sense  in  the  English  Church  should  find  the 
least  trouble  in  bringing  it  to  its  proper  solution.  Romanism  is  a 
tissue  of  abominations  and  absurdities  from  beginning  to  end ; 
Puseyism  is  made  up  of  silly  puerilities,  that  cannot  bear  the  light 
of  common  sense  for  a  single  moment;  and  it  only  shows  the  misery 
of  Episcopacy  and  the  English  Establishment,  that  it  should  have 
given  birth  to  so  sickly  a  spawn  at  this  late  day,  or  that  it  should 
now  find  it  so  hard  a  thing  to  expel  it  from  its  bosom.  The  proper 
cure  for  all  such  mummery  is  to  give  up  the  Church  mania  alto- 
gether, to  discard  the  whole  idea  of  sacramental  grace,  to  fall  back 
on  the  Bible  and  private  judgment  as  the  true  and  only  safe  rule  of 
Protestantism,  and  to  make  Christianity  thus  a  matter  of  reason 
and  common  sense.  This  too  is  clearly  the  order  and  course  of  the 
age,  tending  towards  this  glorious  result  of  independence  and  free- 
dom; and  it  may,  therefore,  well  be  expected,  that  all  these  church 
crotchets  will  soon  follow  the  other  rubbish  of  the  Middle  Ages 
into  the  darkness  of  perpetual  oblivion  and  night. 

"  But  if  ever  a  movement  deserved  to  be  honored  for  its  religious 
earnestness  and  for  the  weight  of  intellectual  and  moral  capital 
embarked  in  it,  such  title  to  respect  may  be  fairly  challenged  hy 
the  late  revival  of  the  Catholic  tendency  in  the  Church  of  England. 
The  movement  is  of  far  too  high  and  ominous  a  character,  has 
enlisted  in  its  service  far  too  great  an  amount  of  powerful  intellect 
and  learning  and  study,  and  has  gone  forward  with  far  too  much 

(310) 


CUAP.  XXIX]  THE    ANGLICAN    CRISIS  311 

praj-er  and  fastiug,  and  inward  spiritual  conflict,  and  has  taken  iiold 
far  too  deeply  of  the  foundatians  of  the  best  religious  life  of  the 
nation,  and  has  led  and  is  still  leading  to  far  too  many  and  too 
painful  sacrifices,  to  be  resolved  with  any  sort  of  rationality  what- 
ever into  views  and  motives  so  poor  as  those  which  are  called  in  to 
account  for  it  by  the  self-sufficient  class  of  whom  we  now  speak. 
To  charge  such  a  movement  with  puerility,  to  set  it  down  as  desti- 
tute of  all  reason,  and  in  full  contradiction  to  the  clear  sense  of  re- 
ligion, or  as  a  mere  rhapsody  of  folly  without  occasion  or  meaning 
in  the  proper  history  of  the  Church,  is  to  make  ourselves  puerile 
and  silly  in  the  highest  degree.  Plainly  it  is  the  part  of  true  wis- 
dom rather  to  pause  before  such  an  imposing  movement  with  a 
certain  measure  of  reverence,  whether  our  sympathies  fall  in  with 
it  or  not,  to  study  it  carefully  in  all  its  proportions,  and  thus  to 
turn  it  to  some  purpose  of  instruction  and  profit  that  mav  be  help- 
ful in  the  end  to  others  as  well  as  to  ourselves.  There  is  no  excuse 
for  treating  such  a  fact  with  mere  ribaldry  and  scorn.  We  are 
bound  in  all  right,  as  well  as  in  all  good  conscience,  to  take  it  for 
granted  that  it  is  not  without  meaning,  whether  we  have  the  power 
to  understand  it  or  not.  It  is  high  time,  we  think,  in  view  of  what 
has  taken  place  already  in  the  history  of  this  Anglican  movement, 
and  of  what  is  now  taking  place — not  to  speak  of  events  that  are  as 
yet  only  casting  their  shadows  before  them, — that  our  popular  de- 
claimers  on  the  subject,  whether  of  the  rostrum  or  the  press,  should 
pull  in  their  zeal  a  little,  and  learn  to  proceed  somewhat  more  mod- 
erately in  their  philippics  and  squibs.  They  are,  in  the  usual  style, 
quite  too  wholesale  and  sweeping.  All  excess  at  last  cuts  the  sin- 
ews of  its  own  strength. 

"  The  catholic  and  sacramental  tendency  in  religion  is  something 
too  great  to  be  set  aside  lawfull}'  by  a  flippant  dash  of  the  pen,  or 
b}^  a  mere  magisterial  wave  of  the  hand.  Never  was  there  a  case, 
in  which  it  could  be  less  reasonable  and  becoming  to  sit  at  the  feet 
of  fools  for  instruction;  and  it  is  truly  humiliating  to  see  how 
readily  this  is  done  by  a  large  part  of  the  nominal  Protestant  world, 
to  whom  every  strolling  mountebank  is  welcome  that  comes  among 
them  as  a  lecturer  on  Romanism ;  as  though  the  deepest  and  most 
sacred  themes  of  religion,  and  questions  that  have  carried  with  them 
the  earnestness  of  death  itself  for  the  most  earnest  and  profound 
minds,  age  after  age,  might  be  satisfactorily  settled  in  five  minutes' 
time  with  a  flourish  of  idle  declamation,  by  men  whose  want  of 
serious  thought  is,  as  it  were,  visibly  stamped  on  their  whole  face. 

""What  makes  this  Anglican  crisis  particularly  solemn  for  serious 


312  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.    IX 

thinkers  is  the  force  it  has  to  bring  out  sensibly  the  difficulties  and 
contradictions  that  belong  to  the  present  state  of  the  Church  on 
different  sides.  In  this  respect,  it  may  be  taken  as  of  a  truly  diacriti- 
cal nature ;  for  it  goes  to  probe  and  expose  the  doubtful  character 
at  least  of  much  which  was  rested  in  before  with  a  sort  of  passive 
acquiescence  as  good  and  sufficient,  simply  because  it  was  put  to  no 
practical  inquest  and  trial. 

"  Who  that  thinks  seriously,  foi'  instance,  can  fail  to  be  struck 
with  the  fearfull}-  ominous  posture,  into  which  the  whole  open  and 
professed  no-church  interest  is  thrown,  including  not  only  those 
who  repudiate  the  name  and  notion  of  a  Church  out  and  out,  but 
that  large  class  of  Protestants  rather,  which  has  come  to  look  upon 
the  Church  as  only  a  notion  or  name,  disclaiming  all  faith  in  its 
proper  supernatural  character  as  we  find  this  asserted  in  the  Apos- 
tles' Creed. — One  grand  effect  now  of  the  crisis,  which  is  going  for- 
ward in  England,  is  to  put  a  full  end  to  all  such  doctrines  and  de- 
ceitful twilight,  and  to  drag  this  question  so  into  the  full  blaze  of 
da}'  that  all  men  ma^^  see  and  know  where  they  stand  with  regard 
to  it,  and  judge  of  themselves  and  of  one  another  accordingly. 

"  The  main  significance  of  the  crisis  lies  just  here,  that  it  goes  so 
thoroughly  to  the  heart  and  core  of  the  Church  Question,  and  shuts 
men  up  to  the  necessity  of  answering  it  in  a  direct  wa}^,  if  they 
answer  it  at  all,  with  full  view  of  what  that  answer  means.  The  force 
of  the  question  in  the  end  is  nothing  less  than  this :  Whether  the 
original  catholic  doctrine  concerning  the  Church,  as  it  stood  in  uni- 
A'ersal  authoritj^  through  all  ages  before  the  Reformation,  is  to  be 
received  and  still  held  as  a  necessary  part  of  the  Christian  faith,  or 
deliberatel}^  rejected  as  an  error  dangerous  to  men's  souls  and  at 
war  with  the  Bible. 

"  To  reject  it  is  to  break  faith  and  communion  not  only  with  such 
men  as  Anselm,  Bernard  and  others  of  like  spirit  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  but  with  the  fathers  also  of  the  fifth  and  fourth  centuries, 
the  Gregories,  Basils,  Augustines,  and  Chrj'sostoms,  who  shine  as 
stars  of  the  first  magnitude  in  that  older  period  of  the  Church,  and 
still  more  with  the  entire  noble  army  of  martyrs  and  confessors  in 
primitive  times,  clear  back,  as  it  would  seem,  to  the  A'ery  age  at 
least  next  following  that  of  the  Apostles ;  to  break  faith  and  com- 
munion, we  sa}-,  with  all  this  vast  and  glorious  'cloud  of  witnesses,' 
not  onl}'  on  a  mere  circumstantial  point,  but  on  a  question  reach- 
ing to  the  inmost  life  of  Christianity  itself,  is  be^'ond  contradiction 
a  thought  of  such  momentous  gravity  as  might  well  be  expected  to 
fill  even  the  most  confident  with  some  measure  of  concern. 


Chap.  XXIX]  the  Anglican  crisis  313 

"  Here  comes  into  view  the  proper  significance  of  the  controAers}- 
with  regard  to  baptismal  grace.  The  idea  that  the  holy  sacraments 
are  divine  acts,  that  the}^  carry  in  them  a  mystical  force  for  their 
own  ends,  that  the^y  are  the  media  of  operations  worlcing  towards 
salvation,  which  have  their  efficacy  and  value,  not  from  the  mind 
of  the  worshipper,  but  from  the  power  of  the  transaction  or  thing 
done  itself,  reaches  back  plainly  to  the  earliest  ages  of  the  Church, 
and  has  been  counted  a  necessar}-  part  of  the  Christian  faith  b^' 
the  great  body  of  those  who  have  professed  it  through  all  ages.  In 
this  view,  we  find  it  identified  very  directly  from  the  first  with  the 
idea  of  regeneration  itself.  So  through  the  whole  period  before 
the  Reformation,  and  the  Protestantism  of  the  sixteenth  centurj-, 
the  Church  had  no  thought  of  breaking  here  with  the  faith  of  pre- 
vious ages. — The  question  is  in  truth  thus  central  in  its  nature.  It 
involves  at  bottom  the  whole  force  of  the  alternative,  Church  or 
No-Church,  in  the  form  already  presented,  as  a  solemn  choice  in 
fact  between  owning  or  disowning  the  creed  of  all  Christendom 
in  former  times. — We  ought  to  see  and  feel  that  it  is  a  question, 
not  for  Episcopalians,  as  such  only,  but  for  all  Protestants. 

"So  much  for  the  no-church,  no-sacrament  party  of  the  day, 
whether  in  the  English  Establishment  or  on  the  outside  of  it,  whether 
in  Great  Britain,  we  ma}-  add,  or  in  this  country.  It  is  exposed 
here  to  a  sifting  probation,  which  is  well  adapted  to  bring  out  the 
true  nature  of  its  principles,  and  to  make  them  for  considerate  men 
an  object  of  wholesome  apprehension  and  dread,  lint  the  crisis 
carries  with  it  a  sifting  efficacy  also  in  other  directions.  It  bears 
with  trying  severity  on  the  pretensions  of  Episcopacy,  which  in 
England  and  this  country  admits  either  too  little  or  too  much  for 
the  stability  of  its  own  claims. 

"Take  the  Low  Church  ground  in  its  communion,  and  it  sinks 
at  once  plainly  to  the  order  of  the  sects  around  it,  which  have,  by 
their  open  profession,  discarded  the  proper  church  theory  alto- 
gether; it  is  simply  among  the  various  denominations  of  the  Chris- 
tian world,  arguing  from  Scripture  and  reason,  as  it  best  can,  for 
its  own  peculiarities,  but  not  venturing  to  make  them,  in  anj'  way, 
of  the  ver}'  essence  of  faith.  In  this  view  Episcopacy  becomes  at 
best  a  simple  outward  institute,  a  matter  imrely  of  authoritj',  and 
so  in  truth  a  matter  of  mere  ceremonial  and  form  ;  of  the  same 
order,  precisely  with  the  law  and  letter  of  other  distinctions,  in  the 
strength  of  which  the  Baptists,  the  Scotch  Seceders,  and  such  like 
bodies,  are  accustomed  to  make  a  parade  in  Jewish  style  of  their 
great  regard  for  God's  will.  The  Episcoi):diaii  pleases  himself  in 
20 


314  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM   1844-1853  [DlV.  IX 

exactl}'  the  same  way  with  the  notion  of  following  the  primitive 
and  apostolic  law  of  church  government  and  worship  by  acknowl- 
edging three  orders  in  the  ministrj^  and  the  necessit}^  of  a  public 
liturgy. — The  true  High  Church  theory  requires  something  far  be- 
yond this,  and  is  virtually  surrendered  in  fact  when  it  is  made  to 
rest  on  any  such  false  and  insufficient  foundation. 

"That  the  Church  principles  of  this  large  class  of  Episcopalians 
are  confessedl}^  only  Evangelical  Puritanism  under  the  draperj'  of 
Episcopal  forms,  is  becoming  fast  apparent  to  all  men.  Their 
peculiarity  of  faith  and  worship  is  vastly  too  small,  their  Protestant 
maxim  much  too  large  and  wide,  to  justify  the  ground  they  take 
over  against  the  other  divisions  of  God's  sacramental  host,  con- 
fessedly as  evangelical  as  themselves. — It  would  be  far  more  honest 
and  manly,  we  think,  if  the  school  here  noticed,  both  in  England 
and  in  this  country,  would  at  once  forsake  Anglicanism  as  it  now 
stands,  and  either  pass  over  into  the  bosom  of  other  denomina- 
tions, or,  if  more  to  their  taste,  form  a  new  Episcopal  sect  iivopen 
and  free  fellowship  with  other  sections  of  orthodox  Protestantism. 

"But  what  shall  we  now  say  of  that  other  form  of  Episcopacy, 
which  calls  itself  high  onl}^  because  it  is  more  exclusive  in  theory 
as  well  as  practice,  and  lays  greater  stress  on  the  legal  obligation 
of  its  system,  while  the  whole  is  taken  still  in  the  light  of  a  merely 
mechanical  appointment  or  law.  We  see  not  trul}'  how  Episco- 
palianisra  in  such  shape  deserves  to  be  considered  a  whit  less 
pedantic,  to  say  the  least,  than  the  exclusiveness  of  the  Baptists,  or 
.  Seceders  under  a  like  outward  legal  form.  In  both  cases  the  letter 
is  made  to  go  before  the  life,  to  underlie  it  as  first  in  order  and  im- 
portance, instead  of  being  joined  with  it  in  concrete  union,  and  so 
deriving  from  it  continually  all  its  force.  The  Baptist  pretends  to 
be  scrupulously  exact  in  obeying  the  law  of  baptism,  according  to 
his  own  view;  and  so  he  makes  a  religious  merit  of  following  the 
injunction  as  he  supposes  to  the  letter,  unchurching  practically  all 
■  others — on  the  principle  that  the  essence  of  religion  is  implicit  sub- 
mission to  God's  authority  as  made  known  by  the  Bible. 

"  But  noAV  we  ask,  what  better  is  it  than  this  to  make  Episcopacy, 
with  its  outward  succession  from  the  time  of  the  Apostles,  in  and 
of  itself,  the  article  of  a  standing  or  falling  church — on  the  prin- 
ciple simply,  that  Christ  and  His  Apostles  are  supposed  to  have 
prescribed  this  form,  and  that  we  have  no  right  to  var}'  from  what 
must  be  regarded  thus  as  strictly  a  Divine  rule.  It  is  possible  to 
take  ver}^  high  ground  with  this  view,  to  be  very  aristocratic  and 
very  exclusive  ;  but  the  view  itself  is  low,  and   proceeds  on  the 


ClIAP.  XXIXJ  THE    ANGLICAN   CRISIS  315 

want  of  faith  in  the  proper  supernatural  character  of  the  Church, 
rather  than  on  the  presence  of  such  foith  ;  on  which  account,  the 
farther  it  is  pushed,  it  onl}-  becomes  the  more  plainly  empt}-  and 
pedantic.  Being  of  this  character,  it  is  found  to  .  thrive  best,  like 
all  pedantries,  in  periods  of  mechanical  humdrum  and  sham  ;  whilst 
it  is  sure  to  be  exposed  in  its  true  vanit\-,  when  the  religious  life 
is  called  to  pass  through  a  general  crisis,  as  at  the  present  time. 

"The  more  the  Church  question  is  agitated  in  an  earnest  and 
serious  way,  and  the  more  men's  minds  are  fixed  on  its  real  mean- 
ing, the  more  evident  must  it  always  become  that  no  such  mechanical 
view  of  it  as  this  can  ever  solve  its  difficulties  or  satisfj'^  its  i-equi- 
sitions.  Either  the  Church  rights  and  prerogatives  are  nothing  and 
form  no  special  property  whatever  in  its  case,  or  else  they  must 
have  a  far  deeper  and  more  solid  ground  on  which  to  rest  than  the 
order  of  bishops,  or  the  use  of  a  liturgy,  regarded  as  a  simply  out- 
ward appointment.  No/«re  divino  constitution,  in  an}-  such  style 
as  this,  can  uphold  in  a  real  way  for  faith  the  m^-stery  of  the  One, 
Hoh',  Catholic,  Apostolic  Church.  The  premises  are  either  too 
narrow  for  the  conclusion,  or  else  a  great  deal  too  wide. 

"Faith  in  the  Church,  in  the  old  ecclesiastical  sense,  is  not  a  stiff 
persuasion  merely  that  certain  arrangements  are  of  divine  appoint- 
ment ;  it  is  the  apprehension  rather  of  the  Church  as  a  living  super- 
natural fact,  back  of  all  such  arrangements,  having  its  ground  and 
force  in  the  m^-sterj-  of  the  Incarnation,  according  to  the  order  of. 
the  ancient  Creed,  and  cominunicating  to  the  marks  and  signs,  by 
which  it  is  made  visible,  every  particle  of  virtue  that  is  in  them  for 
an}'  such  end.  This  idea  goes  vastlj-  beyond  the  notion  of  Epis- 
copy,  Presbyterianism,  or  any  other  supposed  divine  right  ecclesias- 
tical polity  of  this  sort;  it  looks  directly  to  the  original  promise. 
/yO,  I  am  with  you  ahccnjs  to  the  end  of  the  world;  and  lays  hold 
first  and  foremost  of  the  mistical  being  of  the  Church,  as  no 
mechanism  of  dead  statutes,  but  as  the  actual  presence  of  an  ever  liv- 
ing revelation  of  grace;  a  strictly  heavenly  constitution  on  earth, — 
Christ's  Body  the  fulness  of  Ilim  that  filleth  all  in  all, — in  virtue 
of  which  only,  but  in  virtue  of  which  surely,  all  organs  and  func- 
tions belonging  to  it  have  also  a  superhuman  and  heavenly  force. 

"If  Ei)iseopacy  and  a  liturgy  be  found  to  grow  forth  conclusive- 
ly from  the  nature  of  the  Church,  in  such  catholic  view,  it  is  all 
right  and  good;  let  them  come  in  legitimately  for  their  i)roper 
share  of  respect.  But  it  ought  to  be  plain  Muito  all  men  diligently 
reading  the  Hoi}-  Scrii)tures  and  ancient  authors,'  we  think,  that 
the  grand  weight  and  blunder  of  the  question  concerning  tiie  na- 


316  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

tare  of  the  Church  rest  not  at  all  ou  these  distinctions,  and  that  to 
put  them,  therefore,  ostensibly  in  any  such  form,  must  ever  smack  of 
pedantry  and  betra^^  a  poor  and  false  sense  of  what  this  question 
means.  All  turns  on  the  idea  of  the  Church,  and  this  not  onl}^  may, 
but  must  be  settled  to  some  extent  in  our  minds,  before  we  can  go 
on  to  discuss  to  real  purpose  the  divine  obligation  of  Episcopacy, 
Presbyterianism,  or  an^^  other  polity  to  be  of  such  necessary  force. 

"  In  this  view  it  is,  that  the  question  of  sacramental  grace  is  more 
profoundly  interesting  than  the  question  of  Episcopacy.  It  goes 
much  nearer  to  the  heart  of  the  main  question,  the  grand  ultimate 
subject  of  controversy  and  debate;  for  the  Sacraments  are  the 
standing  sign  and  seal  of  whatever  power  is  comprised  in  the 
Church;  and  as  we  think  of  this,  so  invariably  will  we  also  think 
of  them;  the  one  conception  giving  shape  and  form  alwa^^s  directly 
to  the  other.  But  even  here  the  right  church  sense  is  something 
more  general  and  deep  than  the  right  sacramental  feeling.  The  no- 
tion of  grace-bearing  sacraments,  sundered  from  the  sense  of  the 
Church  as  still  canying  in  it  the  force  of  its  first  supernatural  con- 
stitution, would  indeed  be  magical,  and  must  prove  quite  as  pedan- 
tic in  the  end  as  a  supreme  regard  for  the  bishops  in  the  same  dead 
wa}'.  We  must  believe  in  a  divine  church,  in  order  to  believe  in 
divine  sacraments,  or  a  divine  ministry  under  any  view. 

"  It  cannot  be  denied  again,  that  the  course  of  this  controvers}', 
as  thus  reaching  to  the  very  heart  and  soul  of  the  Church  Question, 
is  powerfully  sifting  and  trying  the  ecclesiastical  pretensions  of  the 
English  Establishment  as  a  whole.  First  in  view  is  the  right  and 
solemn  question  of  ecclesiastical  supremacy,  the  true  and  rightful 
headship  of  the  Church  and  its  legitimate  relationship  to  the  kState. 
Who  can  doubt,  but  that  the  ground  here  taken  by  Cardinal  Wise- 
man and  the  Romanists  in  general,  is  of  a  higher  character  than 
that  occupied  b}'  Lord  John  Russel  and  the  English  Establishment. 
On  one  side,  the  civil  power  is  made  to  be  the  fountain  of  ecclesias- 
tical authority ;  on  the  other,  the  authority  is  taken  to  be  of  an 
order  wholly  distinct  from  the  State,  independent  of  it  and,  for  its 
own  end,  above  it. 

"In  the  Establishment  itself  also,  many  have  felt  all  along  the 
disgrace  and  burden  of  the  relation,  and  have  often  with  feeble 
voice  protested  against  it  or  tried  to  explain  it  awa3\  But  never  be- 
fore probably  was  there  such  a  glai'ing  exposure  of  the  misery  of 
it,  as  that  which  is  taking  place  just  at  the  present  time.  The 
whole  Tractarian  movement  has  been  against  the  idea  of  such  civil 
supremac3'  in  ecclesiastical  matters,  in  proportion  precise!}'  as  it 


Chap.  XXIX]  the  Anglican  crisis  317 

involved  a  rovival  of  church  principles  generally,  and  a  return  to 
old  catholic  sentiments  and  ideas.  The  Gorham  controversy^  might 
seem  to  have  been  providentially  ordered,  to  bring  out  in  broad 
caricature  and  irony  the  true  sense  of  the  farce,  when  it  was  sure 
in  this  way  to  receive  the  most  earnest  attention.  Here  a  the- 
ological (juestion,  not  of  secondary  but  of  primary  consequence — 
going  just  now  as  we  have  before  seen  to  the  very  root  of  Protest- 
antism— is  settled  in  the  last  instance  by  purely  civil  authority ; 
and  the  English  Church, with  the  Grace  of  Canterbury  at  the  head, 
in  the  presence  of  the  whole  world  dutifully  succumbs  to  the  inso- 
lent and  profane  dictation.  No  Monder  the  Bishop  of  Exeter,  with 
such  earnestness  as  he  had  in  his  soul,  should  feel  such  a  crisis  to 
be  tremendously'  solemn. 

"The  exodus  of  the  Free  Church  of  Scotland  has  been  widel^^ 
glorified,  as  a  grand  exhibition  of  martyrdom  for  the  very  principle 
now  in  view,  the  independence  of  the  Church  in  church  matters, 
the  'right  of  King  Jesus'  as  the  Scotch  phrase  it,  in  opposition  to 
all  worldly  political  power  whatever.  The  fountain  of  ecclesiasti- 
cal law  and  order,  the  true  and  proper  primacy  in  matters  of  relig- 
ion, was  loudly  proclaimed  in  this  case  to  be,  not  the  British  throne 
or  parliament,  but  the  supreme  judicatory  of  the  Church  itself; 
and  in  defence  of  this  principle,  the  best  men  of  Scotland,  with 
Chalmers  at  their  head,  showed  themselves  ready  to  brave,  if  need 
were,  the  greatest  penalties  and  pains.  Puseyism  too  has  gained 
credit  deservedly,  for  only  seeing  clearly,  and  saying  plainly,  that 
the  civil  supremacy  in  matters  of  religion  is  an  abuse  at  war  with 
every  right  conception  of  the  Church,  and  for  proposing,  though 
thus  far  only  in  a  weak  and  ineffectual  way,  a  return  to  the  old 
doctrine  of  ecclesiastical  independence;  and  for  all  right  minded 
men,  certainly,  the  Bishop  of  Exeter  just  now,  by  even  the  partial 
stand  he  is  tr3-ing  to  make  for  this  doctrine  in  the  midst  of  the 
universal  defection  from  it  that  surrounds  him,  is  a  spectacle  of 
more  moral  dignity  than  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  with  the 
whole  horde  of  bishops  besides  at  his  l)ack,  truckling  in  base  sub- 
serviency to  the  nod  of  the  civil  power. — There  can  be  no  question 
in  this  issue,  which  side  answers  most  impressivel}'  to  the  true 
ideal  of  the  old  church  life,  as  it  comes  up  to  our  minds  when  we 
think  of  such  men  as  C^'prian,  Athanasius,  Chrysostom,  Ambrose 
or  Augustine. 

"But  the  issue  here  is  not  simjjly  as  lietween  two  hierarchies, 
the  one  culminating  in  the  Pope  and  the  other  in  the  Queen,  in  the 
form  now  stated:  it  goes  beyond  this  to  tlie  universal  cpiestion  of 


318  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

religious  libertj',  the  right  of  Christians  to  worship  God  according 
to  the  dictates  of  their  own  conscience,  and  to  the  principles  of 
church  toleration  in  the  broadest  sense ;  and  in  this  view  it  con- 
cerns directly  all  sects  and  parties  on  the  outside  of  the  Govern- 
ment Church,  no  less  than  the  membership  of  this  favored  com- 
munion itself.  Is  it  not  the  pride  of  the  age,  to  be  considered 
liberal,  enlightened,  tolerant  in  matters  of  religion  ?  Is  not  this  in 
particular  the  boast  of  Protestantism  ? 

"  The  truth,  however,  is  that  there  is  real  room  in  the  whole  case 
for  uneasiness,  not  because  Romanism  may  be  seen  to  have  power, 
but  because  Anglicanism  is  felt  to  be  weak.  The  constitutional 
deficienc}^  of  this  sj'stem,  its  want  of  ability  to  assert  and  carr^'  out 
in  full  the  proper  functions  of  a  Church,  is  in  the  way  of  being  ex- 
posed as  never  before  by  the  progress  of  the  present  crisis;  and  so 
searching  has  this  become  in  its  operation,  that  there  is  now  good 
reason  to  expect  that  it  will  lead  in  due  time  to  the  breaking  up  of 
the  Establishment  altogether. 

"  It  is  becoming  more  and  more  difficult  for  the  two  tendencies 
at  work  in  its  bosom,  to  move  in  any  sort  of  union  together;  and 
we  are  not  surprised  to  find  the  party  which  still  makes  earnest  with 
Catholic  truths  leaning  powerfully  towards  secession,  whether  it  be 
to  form  a  new  body  or  to  fall  into  the  arms  of  Rome.  The  seces- 
sions which  haA'e  alread}^  taken  place  in  this  last  form  are  exceed- 
ingly significant.  No  movement  of  the  sort  equally  as  grave  has 
taken  place  since  the  Reformation.  The  importance  of  it  lies  not 
just  in  the  number  of  converts,  though  this  is  serious,  but  in 
their  character  rather,  and  the  circumstances  of  the  change.  The 
fact,  however,  as  is  well  known,  is  but  a  part  of  a  much  wider  and 
still  more  serious  fact. 

"  The  Anglican  Crisis  in  this  way  involves  more  than  what  at  once 
appears  on  its  face.  It  is  undermining  confidence  in  much  that 
has  heretofore  had  a  show  of  truth  and  strength,  writing  Tekel  on 
it,  and  turning  it  for  the  consciousness  of  men  into  mockery  and 
shame.  One  thing  is  certain :  the  waj^  is  opening  for  a  new  revival 
of  infidelity  in  England,  in  close  connection  with  the  latest  and 
worst  forms  of  German  rationalism,  which  is  likely  to  go  beyond  all 
that  has  appeared  there  under  this  name  before,  and  which  can 
hardly  fail  to  be  powerfully  felt  also  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic. 
It  is  remarkable  too,  that  this  alarming  development  seems  to  run 
in  some  measure  parallel  with  the  revival  of  the  Church  tendency, 
as  though  it  formed  its  natural  alternative  and  reverse.  It  has 
entered  the  Universities  of  both  Oxford  and  Cambridge.     Fuse}- 


Chap.  XXIXJ  the  Anglican  crisis  319 

ism  in  some  cases  has  fallen  over,  with  eas^-  somerset,  to  sentimental 
Straussism.  The  movement  includes  a  brother  of  Froude,  and  a 
lirother  of  John  Henry  Newman. — The  stream  of  the  Church  ques- 
tion, so  easy  to  wade  through  seemingl}'  at  first,  is  fast  getting 
too  deep  for  the  legs  of  this  system  to  touch  bottom,  and  it  must 
either  swim  beyond  itself  or  sink. 

"  It  artbrds  us  no  satisfaction  to  come  to  this  melanchol}'  conclu- 
sion. We  would  feel  it  a  great  belief  rather,  to  be  able  to  find  in 
Anglican  Episcopacy  a  trul}'  rational  and  solid  answer  to  the  prob- 
lem of  which  we  speak, our  Ararat  of  rest  for  the  ark  of  Protestant- 
ism, so  long  drifted  by  any  and  every  wind  over  what  has  been  thus 
far  a  waste  of  waters  only,  without  island  or  shore.  For  most  firmly 
are  we  convinced  that  no  othe^-  sect,  or  fragment  of  the  general 
movement,  carries  in  itself,  as  such,  the  power  and  pledge  of  an}' 
such  rest,  or  is  ever  likely  to  prove  hereafter  more  than  a  weak  ap- 
proximation at  best,  on  the  most  narrow  and  most  partial  scale,  to 
the  true  ideal  and  proper  perfection  of  its  own  cause.  The  whole 
reflection  is  calculated  to  make  one  sad. 

"There  are  here  not  simpl}-  two  general  alternatives,  but  we  may 
say  four.  The  first  is  a  deliberate  giving  up  of  the  sacramental 
system  altogether,  the  onl}^  proper  end  of  which — short  of  parting 
with  the  Trinity  and  Incarnation — is  Baptistic  Independency,  the 
extreme  verge  of  nnchurchl}-  orthodoxy.  The  second  is  full  de- 
spair of  Protestantism  and  reconciliation  in  form  with  the  Church 
of  Rome,  as  we  have  it  exemplified  with  thrilling  solemnity  in  the 
present  English  secessions.  A  third  waj-  of  escape  may  be  sought 
in  the  belief  or  hope  of  a  new  miraculous  dispensation  on  the  part 
of  God  Himself,  through  some  special  agency  armed  from  his  pur- 
pose with  fresh  apostolical  commission  and  corresponding  powers, 
such  as  TiiViy  supercede  at  once  both  Romanism  and  Protestantism 
as  systems  that  have  become  historical  and  dead.  Swedenborgian- 
ism  plants  itself  on  this  ground;  and  it  is  also  the  ground  taken  by 
Irvingianism — a  far  more  respectable  and  significant  birth  of  the 
modern  church  life  than  many,  having  no  insight  into  its  natural 
history,  are  disposed  to  allow;  not  to  speak  of  the  wretched  carica- 
ture we  have  of  the  same  tendency  in  Mormonism,  which  also,  in  its 
own  way,  claims  to  be  a  revival  in  full  of  the  otherwise  lost  powers 
and  gifts  of  the  Apostolic  age. 

"  A  fourth  and  last  resort,  the  only  one  it  seems  to  us  which  is 
left  for  the  thoughtful,  is  offered  in  the  idea  of  historical  develop- 
ment; by  which,  without  prejudice  to  Catholicism  in  its  own  order 
and  sphere,  or  to  Protestantism  next  as  a  real  advance  on  this  in 


320  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

modern  times,  though  with  the  full  acknowledgment  of  the  faults 
and  A^ews  of  hoth  systems,  it  is  assumed  that  the  whole  present 
state  of  the  Church  is  transitional  only  and  interimistic.  Ac- 
cordingly it  would  he  destined  through  the  very  crisis,  which 
is  now  coming  on — not  just  by  a  new  miracle  setting  aside  the 
whole  past  as  a  dead  failure,  but  in  the  way  of  true  historical 
progress,  which  makes  the  past  always  the  real  womb  of  the  pres- 
ent and  the  future — to  surmount  in  due  season  the  painful  con- 
tradictions (dialectic  tho7'7is)  of  the  Protestant  controversy  as  this 
now  stands,  and  so  to  carrj-  it  triumphantly  forward  to  its  own  last 
sense,  the  type  neither  of  St.  Peter  nor  of  St.  Paul  but  of  both 
brought  together  by  St.  John,  in  a  form  that  shall  be  found  at  the 
same  time  to  etherealize  and  save,  in  the  same  way,  the  last  sense, 
also,  and  rich  wealth  of  the  old  Catholic  faith. 

"  No  scheme  can  command  our  regard,  which  nullifies  virtually 
the  doctrine  of  the  indestructible  life  of  the  Church,  as  well  as  the 
Divine  promise  on  which  that  promise  rests,  by  assuming  a  full 
failure  and  frustration  of  all  the  sense  the  Church  had  in  the  be- 
ginning. On  this  ground  we,  therefore,  have  no  patience  with  that 
bald  Puritanism,  which  fairly  buries  the  Chui'ch  for  a  thousand 
years  and  more,  in  order  to  bring  it  to  a  more  striking  resurrec- 
tion in  the  sixteenth  century.  As  little  can  we  be  satisfied,  on  the 
same  ground,  with  the  visions  of  Emanuel  Swedenborg:  the}'  pro- 
ceed throughout  on  the  assumption  that  the  Church,  as  it  started 
with  the  Apostles,  has  run  itself  out,  both  as  Catholicism  and 
Protestantism,  and  that  the  world  is  to  be  helped  now  onl}'  by  a 
new  revelation  appointed  to  take  its  place.  Irvingism  involves, 
more  or  less  distinctl}^  as  it  seems  to  us,  the  same  dismal  thought; 
and  if  this  be  so,  it  needs  no  other  condemnation.  If  it  came  to  a 
necessary  choice  between  such  a  view  and  Romanism,  the  advant- 
age lies  decidedly,  we  think,  on  the  side  of  this  last. 

"But,  as  we  have  seen,  we  are  not  thrown  at  once  on  any  such 
desperate  election.  We  may  cast  ourselves  upon  the  theory  of  his- 
torical development,  so  as  to  make  Protestantism  itself,  with  all  its 
painfull}"  acknowledged  miseries,  the  main,  though  by  no  means 
exclusive  stream,  by  which  the  general  tide  of  the  original  Chris- 
tian life  is  rolling  itself  forward,  not  without  fearful  breaks  and 
cataracts,  and  many  tortuous  circuits,  to  the  open  sea  at  last  of  that 
grand  and  glorious  ideal  of  true  Catholic  Unity,  which  has  been  in 
the  mind  of  all  saints  from  the  beginning.""  See  3Iercersburg  Re- 
view, July  No.,  1851. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

BROWNSON'S  Quarterhj  Bericic.—''  We  are  not  among  those," 
says  Dr.  Nevin,  "wlio  consider  0.  A.  Brownson,  p]sq.,a  mere 
weathercock  in  religion,  whose  nnmerous  changes  of  faith  are  suffi- 
cient of  themselves  to  convict  his  last  position  of  falsehood  and 
folly.  We  can  see  easily  enongh,  in  all  his  variations,  a  principle 
of  stead}'  motion  in  the  same  genei'al  direction.  He  started  at  one 
extreme,  only  to  be  carried  by  regular  gradation  to  another.  Unita- 
rianism  and  Romanism  are  the  opposite  poles  of  Christianity,  free- 
dom and  authority,  the  liberty  of  the  individual  subject  and  the 
binding  force  of  the  universal  object,  each  carried  out  by  violent 
disjunction  from  the  other,  into  nerveless  pantomine  and  sham. 
Thus  seemingly  far  apart,  they  nevertheless  are  in  reality  always 
closely  related ;  just  as  all  extremes,  by  the  force  of  their  own  false- 
hood, have  an  innate  tendency  to  react,  pendulum-wise,  into  the 
very  oi)posites  from  which  they  seem  to  fly.  Hence,  the  familiar 
observation,  that  Romanism  in  man}'  cases  leads  to  rationalism  and 
infidelity. 

"We  are  not  among  those  again,  who  look  upon  Mr.  Brownson's 
championship  of  Romanism  as  either  weak  or  of  small  account. 
His  mind  is  naturally  of  a  ver}-  acute  and  strong  character;  clothed 
with  a  measure  of  dialectical  agilit}^  and  power,  such  as  we  rarelv 
meet  with  on  the  field  at  least  of  our  American  theology.  His 
reading  evidently  is  extensiA^e  and  varied ;  though  he  is  not  free 
from  the  infirmity,  we  think,  of  passing  it  off  frequently,  in  an  in- 
direct way,  for  something  more  than  its  actual  Avorth. 

"He  allows  himself,  for  instance,  to  refer  at  times  to  the  (Jcniinn 
philosophers  and  theologians,  as  if  he  were  perfectly  at  home  in 
their  speculations ;  whereas  we  have  never  met  with  any  evidence 
of  his  having  any  more  thorough  acquaintance  with  them  after  all 
than  that  second-hand  information,  which  is  to  be  had  through  the 
medium  of  a  foreign  literature,  particularly  that  of  France.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  sufficient!}'  clear,  that  he  has  iu)f  by  any  metins 
mastered  the  best  and  most  profound  results  of  the  later  German 
thought ;  he  makes  no  proper  account  of  the  history  through  which 
it  has  i)assed;  affects,  indeed,  to  make  light  of  all  history,  as  ap- 
plied to  the  progress  of  philosophy,  and  shows  himself  at  fault 
especially,   when   the  discipline   of  this   thought    precisely   should 

(321) 


322  AT   MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

come  to  his  help,  or,  at  all  events,  be  intelligently  refused,  if  found 
wanting,  and  not  merely  waved  with  magisterial  hand  to  one  side." 

For  most  purposes  Mr.  Brownson  used  to  be  sufScientl}^  ego- 
tistic in  his  Revieio.  It  was  his, and  wh}-  should  it  not  be  the  organ 
through  which  his  personality  should  sound  forth  whenever  there 
was  an  occasion  for  it.  It  is  quite  amusing  now  to  read  on  its 
pages  that  Prof.  Park,  Emerson,  Neander,  Newman,  Schaff,  Bush- 
nell,  and  other  lights  of  like  character,  in  their  most  profound  at- 
tempts to  get  at  the  intrinsic  reason  of  things,  simplj^  go  over  the 
ground  Avhich  was  familiar  long  since  to  his  feet,  but  which  a  logic, 
still  deeper  than  theirs,  compelled  him  afterwards  to  abandon — 
credat  Judaeus  Apelles. — See  his  Review^  Oct.,  1845,  p.  511  and  p. 
540.— Jan.,  1847,  p.  84.— April,  1847,  p.  276.— Oct.,  1849,  p.  497. 

But  notwithstaniliug  certain  drawbacks,  Mr.  Brownson's  actual 
fiimiliarity  with  the  several  departments  of  literature,  history  and 
theology,  went  considerably  beyond  the  range  of  most  of  his  one- 
sided opponents  on  the  opposite  side.  Very  few  writers,  perhaps, 
in  this  country  or  Europe  equalled  him  in  the  vigor  or  the  lu- 
cidity with  which  he  wielded  his  pen.  He  was  a  foeman  whose 
steel  it  was  difficult  to  resist,  especially  when  it  was  directed 
against  one  windmill  after  another  in  his  chivalrous  marches 
through  an  imaginary  country.  For  a  certain  class  of  persons  he 
was  perhaps  a  knight  of  the  first  water,  by  far  eclipsing  Moehler  in 
theological  questions,  and  Cardinal  Wiseman  in  his  knowledge  of 
ecclesiastical  relations.  He  was  a  born  Puritan,  steeped  by  educa- 
tion in  the  element  of  Xew  England  life  ;  intimatel}^  familiar  with 
Puritan  methods  of  thought  and  forms  of  life ;  and  with  a  sur- 
prising agilit3^  and  dash  ready  to  seize  the  old  batteries  of  Xew 
England  polemics,  and  turning  them  against  his  enemies. 

He  tells  us  in  one  place,  that  his  soul  recoiled  from  the  mortal 
sin  of  being  inconsequent,  or  of  adopting  premises  which  he  was 
not  prepared  to  carry  out  to  their  necessary  and  farthest  extreme. 
To  such  a  hazardous  undertaking  he  brings  the  whole  strength  of 
his  Puritan  nature,  as  if  determined  to  be  a  veritable  Puritan 
Romanist,  wilfully  forcing  his  own  will  to  fall  in  with  the  new  theor}- 
of  faith  which  he  was  thus  brought  to  embrace.  He  professed  to 
abjure  philosophy  in  religion,  and  take  all  in  the  way  of  simple 
authority.  Thus  firmly  set  in  his  own  mind  to  follow  out  his  new 
principles  witliout  any  regard  to  consequences,  Mr.  Brownson  appar- 
ently had  no  trouble  in  complying  with  even  its  most  extreme  de- 
mand. Of  course  he  was  a  full-fledged  Ultramontanist,  and  here  in 
America,  a  downright   Italian,  in  the  plenitude  of  his  obedience 


Chap.  XXX]        brownson's  quarterly  review  323 

and  faith.  He  not  only  believed  in  the  infalliliility  of  the  Cliurdi, 
but,  in  advance  of  the  Roman  curia  and  the  bishops,  he  proclaimed 
the  infallibility  of  the  J'o[)e  also  in  his  day.  "The  Papacy,"  he 
aflirnied, "  is  the  Church,  and  the  Pope  is  the  vicar  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  on  earth,  and  if  3^ou  war  against  the  Pope,  it  is  either  because 
you  would  war  against  God  or  because  you  believe  God  can  lie." 
He  was  equally  submissive,  most  dutiful  to  the  bishops  and  the 
priests,  who  in  his  e3e  formed  the  truth  and  authority  in  the  Church, 
and  from  whose  lips  the  common  layiaan  is  required  to  accept  both 
without  doubt  or  contradiction.  His  tone  towards  those,  his  supe- 
riors, when  contrasted  with  his  confidence  and  self-reliance  in  other 
directions,  was  humble  to  say  the  least,  if  not  sycophantic  and 
servile.  His  Review^  theologically  considered,  he  wished  to  be 
simply  the  echo  of  the  proper  masters  of  his  faith,  the  Bishop  of 
lioston  and  his  learned  clergy. 

This  humble  submission  of  such  a  distinguished  convert  must 
have  satisfied  most  Catholics  of  the  sincerity  and  thoroughness  of 
his  conversion,  although  some,  and  perhaps  many  of  tliem,  instinct- 
ively felt  that  he  carried  matters  too  far  with  his  merciless  logic. 
But  notwithstanding  this  humble  submission,  he  believed  all  the 
while  that  he  knew  someting  also,  and  this  manifested  itself  very 
palpably  during  the  war.  He  became  eminently  patriotic,  fought 
the  battle  of  the  Union  in  his  organ,  and  regardless  of  priests  or 
bishop,  assumed  to  be  a  political  autocrat  among  his  Catholic  fel- 
low-citizens, in  which  he  was  less  successful  than  when  on  prancing 
steed  he  essayed  to  go  forth  to  slay  the  Protestant  hordes. 

As  already  said  Mr.  Brownson  shrank  back  from  committing  the 
sin  of  being  inconsequent,  and  justice  to  his  memory  requires  us 
here  to  give  the  leading  conseciuenoes  of  his  mechanical  logic, 
which  he  himself  endorsed  fully.  Dr.  Nevin  stated  them  faithfully, 
and  as  the^'  for  the  most  part  refuted  themselves,  he  had  more  time 
to  devote  to  the  fundamental  principles  in  disj)ute. 

"His  theory  puts  an  end  to  all  i)iivate  thinking  in  religion,  and 
must  lie  carried  out  on  all  sides,  no  matter  whether  it  violates  our 
common  sense  or  not.  The  maxim,  Oat  of  the  Churchy  applies  to 
the  Roman  communion  exclusively,  and  shuts  out  as  much  as  pos- 
sible every  sort  of  hope  in  favor  even  of  the  best  men  beyond  its 
pale. — Protestantism  in  its  best  shape  is  only  a  sham,  that  always 
leads  to  infidelity  and  Nihilism. — The  Reformation  was  wholly 
without  reason  or  necessity,  and  had  its  rise  in  worldly  moiives  far 
more  than  in  any  true  zeal  for  the  glory  of  (lod. — Luther  and  Calvin 
were  bad  nu-n,  and  moreover  tools  of  nuMi  worse  than  themselves. 


324  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

— The  Church,  as  it  stood  before,  was  always  moving  in  the  right 
direction;  whilst  this  rcA'olntion,  so  far  as  it  prevailed,  served  only 
to  hinder  and  embarrass  the  march  of  Christian  improvement,  caus- 
ing the  sun-mark  to  go  back  on  the  dial-plate  of  the  world's  civil- 
ization, God  only  knows  how  far. — Its  only  representation  at  this 
time,  accordingly,  is  found  in  transcendentalism,  pantheistic  athe- 
ism, and  communism. — The  Roman  Catholic  Church,  both  before 
and  since  the  Reformation,  has  been  the  prop  and  patron  of  all 
that  is  good  in  the  world,  whether  in  the  form  of  religion,  science, 
politics,  or  social  life. — The  advantages  often  claimed  in  favor  of 
Protestant  nations  are  more  specious  than  solid. — Puritanism,  es- 
pecially here  in  America,  is  little  more  than  a  bag  of  wind. — The 
Puritan  Professor  Park,  with  the  tail  of  a  Dutch  goose  in  his  cap 
for  a  plume,  iguorantl}^  accuses  Catholicity  of  being  hostile  to  the 
mind  and  of  being  deficient  in  great  philosophers  and  eminent 
preachers. — Saving  some  branches  of  physical  science,  Protestants 
have  realh'  contributed  nothing  of  an}-  real  importance  to  the  prog- 
ress of  the  human  mind. — Everything,  except  material  industry, 
degenerates  in  their  hands ;  and  3'et  they  have  the  singular  impu- 
dence to  accuse  the  Catholic  Church  of  injuring  the  human  mind. 
— The  Catholic  cantons  in  Switzerland  are  more  enlightened  than 
the  Protestant.  Sic  ?  Spain,  Portugal,  and  Ireland,  bear  comparison 
Avith  Holland,  Denmark,  and  Scotland. — The  laboring  classes  are 
much  more  degraded  in  England  than  they  are  in  Austria,  in  Italy 
or  in  Spain. — The  Austrian  clerg}^  are  not  inferior  to  the  Prussian, 
nor  the  Bavarian  to  the  Saxon. — To  represent  the  French  clergy  as 
inferior  to  the  English  betrays  an  ignorance  or  a  recklessness  that 
we  were  not  prepared  for  even  in  our  Andover  Professor. — We  posi- 
tively deny,  that  in  moral  and  intellectual  science,  properl}'  so 
called,  Protestants  have  made  the  least  progress,  or  that  their  phil- 
osophy has  ascertained  a  single  fact  or  a  single  principle  not  known 
and  recognized  by  the  Schoolmen."  But  of  this  jam  satis.  Thus 
Mr.  Brownson,  under  the  pressure  of  his  mere  intellectual  or  logic 
screws  is  forced  to  see  evil,  and  evil  only  in  Protestantism,  and  in 
Romanism  only  goodness,  beauty  and  grace. 

As  a  matter  of  course  the  reviewer  of  Brownson  could  not  enter 
into  any  argument  to  disprove  the  truth  of  such  propositions. 
Time  was  too  precious,  and  it  moreover  would  have  placed  him  in 
the  same  line  as  the  popular  Protestant  declaimers  against  Rome, 
which  he  thought  amounted  to  nothing  more  than  empty  sound. 
Before,  however,  he  proceeded  to  consider  the  fundamental  princi- 
ples involved  in  the  controversy,  he  merel}'  allowed  Protestantism, 


Chap.  XXX]        brownson's  quarterly  review  325 

which  was  of  age,  for  a  moment  to  speak  for  itself  in  the  facts  of 
history. 

"The  Reformation  comes  before  us  in  history,"  he  says,  "not  as 
a  side  current  simply  in  the  stream  of  life,  but  as  a  force  belonging 
plainly  to  its  central  channel.  It  had  its  ground  and  necessit}-  in 
what  went  before.  Whole  ages  looked  towards  it  previously  as  its 
l)roper  end.  It  is  not  more  clear  that  the  civilization  of  the  modern 
world  grew  up  in  Europe,  than  it  is  that  its  growth  and  progress 
produced  the  Reformation. — Protestantism,  plainly,  has  not  been 
an  interlude  simply,  during  the  past  three  hundred  years,  in  the 
drama  of  the  world's  life.  It  belongs  to  the  history  of  the  period  in 
the  fullest  sense  of  the  term. — The  honor  of  God,  the  credit  of  re- 
ligion, requires,  therefore,  that  a  movement  which  has  so  covered  the 
field  of  history  for  so  long  a  time,  should  in  some  form  be  acknowl- 
edged to  carr}'  with  it  a  truly  historical  force,  and  to  enter  into  the 
universal  mission  and  plan  of  Christianit}'  for  the  salvation  of  the 
world. — We  ought  to  have  no  patience  with  men,  who  turn  the  first 
three  centuries  of  Christianit}'  into  a  sheer  waste  of  sand,  to  suit 
their  own  miserable  prejudice.  But  why,  we  ask,  should  we  have 
any  more  patience  with  this  st^'le  of  thinking,  when  we  find  it  ap- 
plied to  the  period  since  the  Reformation,  than  we  have  for  it  as 
applied  to  the  period  before?  Is  it  less  arbitrary  and  pedantic,  less 
frivolous  and  profane,  to  treat  the  great  fact  of  Protestantism, 
clearly  belonging  for  three  hundred  j-ears  past  to  the  central  his- 
tory of  the  world,  as  a  nullit}',  a  dream,  the  oversight  of  a  sleeping 
Christ,  than  it  is  to  look  upon  a  like  term  of  centuries  a  thousand 
years  before,  in  the  same  dishonorable  light? 

"Romanists  must  learn  to  find  some  sense  at  least, and  not  mere 
devil's-play  in  the  Reformation,  if  they  expect  to  be  heard  respect- 
fully in  the  scientific  world  in  opposition  to  its  claims.  If  Mr. 
Brownson. should  set  himself  to  denounce  and  ridicule  the  Alle- 
gheny Mountains  or  the  Mississippi  river,  as  useless  or  absurd 
accidents  in  nature,  we  do  not  see  wh}'  it  would  be  more  reproach- 
ful to  his  philosoi)hy  and  religiou,  than  it  is  for  him  to  put  scorn 
in  like  style  on  the  vast  creations  of  history,  that  come  up  before  us 
during  the  i)ast  three  hundred  years  in  the  form  of  Protestantism; 
for  sure  wc  are,  that  a  continent,  shorn  of  its  highest  mountains 
and  mightiest  streams,  would  not  miss  its  own  universal  sense  more 
than  the  tract  of  the  world's  general  life  must  do,  if  the  events  of 
the  last  three  hundred  years  were  swept  from  the  face  of  it  as  a 
mere  impertinence  or  blank  nothing," — Thus  the  assertions  of  bold 
declaimers  on   Romish  platforms  are  reduced  to  an  absurdity  as 


326  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

soon  as  the}'  are  compared  with  the  facts  of  histoiy.  The}'  must, 
however,  haA'e  their  basis  in  some  system  in  which  they  take  their 
rise.  Dr.  Nevin,  therefore,  directs  attention  to  the  theory  under- 
lying Romanism,  meets  Mr.  Brownson  on  his  own  ground,  and 
throws  him  on  the  defensive.  We  here  reproduce  briefly  this  war 
in  Africa,  in  which  logic  cut  logic  and  oppressed  truth  asserted  its 
sovereignty. 

"  The  theor}'  of  Romanism  Involves  a  general  wrong  against  our 
human  constitution,  in  not  allowing  the  ordinary  law  of  freedom 
to  have  force  in  the  sphere  of  religion,  where  precisely  the  divine 
order  requires  its  presence  to  complete  itself.  The  mind  of  man 
cannot  fulfil  its  mission  by  following  blindly  a  mere  external  force 
of  any  kind,  but  by  the  activity  of  its  own  intelligence  and  will, 
both  as  general  and  individual.  It  must  move  in  the  light  that 
springs  from  itself,  and  by  the  power  as  law  it  generates  contin- 
ually from  within.  This  moral  constitution,  as  in  the  world  of 
nature,  involves  many  complex  relations,  on  a  vast  and  magnifi- 
cent scale,  but  the  conception  of  freedom  pertains  to  it  as  a 
whole,  as  a  necessary  universal  distinction.  Take  that  away  and 
its  A'ery  idea  falls  to  the  ground.  It  is  no  longer  a  human  con- 
ception in  the  proper  sense  of  the  term.  According  to  Mr. 
Brownson  the  human  mind  is  simply  a  passive  recipient  of  a  for- 
eign action  brought  to  bear  on  it  in  an  outward  way.  Whilst 
man's  life  under  the  influence  of  Christianity  unfolds  itself  by  a 
self-moA-ement,  in  the  way  of  thought  and  will,  and  is  thus  to  at- 
tain to  perfection,  the  theory  of  Romanism  supersedes  all  this  by 
another  law  altogether.  The  supernatural  comes  in  as  the  outward 
complement  of  the  natural  in  such  a  way  as  to  nullify  its  force  in 
all  that  pertains  to  its  higher  sphere,  thus  leaving  the  gap  between 
the  two  just  as  wide  as  it  was  before. 

"  This  wrong  against  human  nature  manifests  itself  in  the  vio- 
lence which  the  individual  mind  is  made  to  suflfer,  according  to  this 
theory,  in  favor  of  what  is  taken  to  be  the  general.  The  existence 
of  truth  is  something  objective,  uniA'ersal  and  independent  of  all 
private  thought  or  will;  but  as  thus  objective,  it  must  be,  at  the 
same  time,  subjective,  must  enter  into  the  sphere  of  our  thoughts 
and  wills,  in  order  that  it  may  become  a  reality  to  us.  The  object- 
ive without  the  subjective  is  a  mere  abstraction.  The  general  as 
such, to  be  a  law  or  measure  to  the  individual,  must  take  a  concrete 
form  in  the  life  of  the  world,  which  resolves  itself  at  last  into  the 
thinking  and  working  of  single  minds.  But  Romanism  sets  aside 
the  authority  of  this  order,  which  everywhere  asserts  itself  as  a 


Chap.  XXX]        brown^on's  quarterly  review  327 

universal  force  in  the  constitution  of  our  nature.  Cliristiunity  is 
thus  taken  to  be  of  force  for  the  world  under  a  simply  abstract 
form,  an  outwardly  supernatural  revelation, transcending  the  whole 
order  of  our  common  life,  and  not  needing  nor  allowing  the  activity 
of  man  himself  as  an  intelligent  and  free  subject,  to  be-the  medium 
in  any  way  of  its  presence  and  power.  Authority  is  made  to  be 
all  and  freedom  nothing.  Authority  is,  therefore,  not  mediated  at 
all  by  man's  actual  life,  and  is  in  no  sense  living  or  concrete,  but 
altogether,  mechanical,  rigid  and  fixed. 

"Freedom,  however,  is  a  great  deal  more  than  an}-  such  outward 
consent  to  the  authority  of  the  law.  It  is  a  life  in  the  law,  union 
with  it,  and  the  very  form  in  which  it  comes  to  its  revelation  in  the 
moral  world.  If  we  place  the  law  as  an  objective  force  on  the  out- 
side altogether  of  the  intelligence  and  will  of  those  who  are  to  be  its 
subjects,  Ave  at  once  convert  it  into  an  abstract  nothing.  This  is  the 
natural  extreme  into  which  Romanism  runs,  against  which  the  Ref- 
ormation formed  a  legitimate  and  absoluteh'  necessary  reaction  and 
protest. — It  is  as  true  now,  as  it  was  at  the  beginning  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  that  the  actualization  of  truth  in  the  world  is  some- 
thing which  can  be  accomplished  only  through  the  intelligence  and 
will  on  the  part  of  the  world  itself;  that  liberty,  in  its  genuine  sense, 
is  not  simply  the  outward  echo  of  authorit}',  but  the  very  element 
of  its  life,  and  the  coefficient  of  its  power  in  that  which  it  brings  to 
pass;  that  man  is  no  passive  machine  merely  in  the  process  of  his 
own  salvation;  that  the  free  activity  of  the  individual  subject  in 
the  world  of  mind  can  never  be  paralyzed  nor  overwhelmed  by  the 
sense  of  the  law  as  a  nature  foreign  and  transcendent  throughout  to 
its  own  nature,  without  involving  in  the  end  the  overthrow  of  na- 
ture altogether. — The  theory  rests  on  a  wrong  conception  of  what 
ftuthority  is  in  the  world  of  mind,  and  so  on  a  wrong  conception  of 
the  true  nature  of  the  Church,  as  the  divinely  constituted  organ  and 
bearer  of  Christ's  will  among  men  to  the  end  of  time. 

"  The  natural  result  of  such  an  unnatural  separation  of  liberty  and 
law.  of  the  rights  of  the  subjective  and  the  claims  of  the  objective, 
in  the  end  inflicts  a  grievous  wrong  on  the  second  of  these  interests 
no  less  than  on  the  first.  The  true  idea  of  authority  in  the  moral 
world  requires  that  it  should  actualize  itself  under  a  concrete  form, 
through  the  general  life  of  humanity  and  in  the  way  of  history. 
]5ut  with  the  high-strung  theory  of  Mr.  Brownson,  all  this  is  ruled 
out.  It  is  thrust  out  of  the  way  most  effectually  by  the  conception 
of  an  abstract  ministry,  or  ecclena  docen^,  in  which  the  gift  of  in- 
fallibility is  confined  in  a  purely  outward  supernatural  way,  witli- 


328  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

out  any  regard  to  any  mediation  of  the  life  of  the  Church  as  a  whole. 
This  ecele.ria  docens  is  no  organic  product  or  out-birth  of  the  new 
creation  among  believers  generally  whom  it  was  appointed  to  save. 
Its  prophetical,  priestly  and  kingly  functions  are  not  after  all  the 
activity  of  Christ's  m3^stical  body,  actualizing  itself  as  a  living  body 
by  appropriate  organs  created  for  such  a  purpose.  The  ministry 
is  to  be  regarded  as  a  body  independent  of  the  Church,  and  it  must 
possess  a  life  of  its  own;  in  a  word,  it  is  a  separate  organization  of 
its  own,  through  which  the  higher  powers  of  Christianity  must 
needs  be  carried  forward,  by  a  wholly  distinct  channel,  for  the  use 
of  the  world  from  age  to  age.  These  powers  too  belong  to  it  in  a 
mechanical,  magical  waj^,  and  not  according  to  the  ordinary  law  of 
truth  and  power  among  men. 

"  There  can  be  no  room  with  this  view,  as  a  matter  of  course,  for 
the  conception  of  anything  like  a  progressive  actualization  of  the  life 
of  the  Church  in  the  form  of  authority.  As  the  infallibility  which  be- 
longs to  her  is  independent  of  her  natural  constitution,  abstract  and 
not  concrete,  so  it  also  lies  wholly  on  the  outside  of  her  proper 
human  presence  in  the  world.  But  to  be  out  of  history  is  to  be 
out  of  humanit}^  itself. — Humanity,  in  all  other  cases,  accom- 
plishes its  destin}'  by  organic  co-operation,  carried  forward  in  the 
form  of  history.  Truth  is  brought  to  pass  for  it  through  the  medium 
of  its  own  activit}^,  the  whole  working  towards  its  appointed  end  by 
the  joint  ministry  of  the  parts,  in  such  a  way,  however,  as  to  be  some- 
thing more  than  these  separately  taken.  So  it  is  in  the  sphere  of 
science;  so  in  the  sphere  of  art;  and  so  in  the  sphere  of  politics 
and  social  life.  But  in  the  sphere  of  the  Church,  as  it  stands  since 
Christ,  according  to  the  Romanist  doctrine,  we  are  required  to  take 
all  differently.  As  a  supernatural  constitution,  it  must  not  in  any 
sense  conform  to  the  order  of  nature.  It  must  not  be  organic,  nor 
historical,  nor  human,  in  its  higher  life;  but  one  long  monotony 
rather  of  mere  outward  law  and  authority,  superseding  or  crush- 
ing the  natural  order  of  the  world,  and  contradicting  it,  age  after 
age,  to  the  end  of  time.  The  Roman  system  carries  in  it  thus  a 
constant  tendency  to  resolve  the  force  of  Christianity  into  magic, 
and  to  fall  into  a  mere  opus  operatum  in  its  worst  sense. 

"This  brings  us,"  says  Dr.  Nevin,  "to  notice,  more  particularly 
in  the  next  place,  the  general  relation  in  which  the  supernatural  is 
taken  by  this  system  to  stand  to  the  natural,  and  its  corresponding 
view  of  divine  revelation.  The  two  worlds  are  held  to  be  wholly 
disjointed  and  separate,  the  one  from  the  other,  so  that  any  connec- 
tion which  is  formed  between  them  is  regarded  as  outward  only  and 


Chap.  XXX]        brownson's  quarterly  review  329 

not  in  the  wa}-  of  our  common  life.  The  two  are  sundered  l)v  an 
impassable  gulf,  as  regards  inward  constitution  and  being.  This 
abstract  conception  of  the  supernatural,  tliat  refuses  utterly  to  flow 
into  our  life  in  any  way  with  the  natural,  underlies  the  whole  theory 
of  Romanism  as  set  forth  by  Mr.  Brownson;  and  much  of  our 
Protestant  orthodoxy,  it  must  be  confessed,  rests  upon  precisely 
the  same  abstract  supernaturalism  in  the  view  it  takes  of  the  Bible 
as  the  medium  of  divine  revelation,  without  seeing  that  from  such 
premises  we  are  shut  up  at  last,  without  help  or  escape,  to  the 
Romanist  conclusion.  The  reasonableness  of  faith  turns  not  at  all, 
according  to  this  school,  on  any  correspondence  in  which  it  stands 
directly  with  its  own  contents,  but  purely  and  exclusively  on  its 
relation  to  the  extreme  authority  on  which  the}'  are  accepted  as  true. 
''  This  theory  is  convicted  of  error  by  the  clear  proof  of  a  real 
union  of  the  supernatural  with  the  natural,  in  the  persons  of  the 
sacred  writers.  The  truth  it  reveals  is  conditioned  b}-  the  mind 
and  education  of  the  men  who  gave  it  utterance,  and  through  them 
by  the  living  human  relations  in  the  midst  of  which  they  stood. 
No  two  prophets  think  alike  or  speak  alike.  Their  inspiration  then 
is  no  abstraction,  no  divine  mechanism,  but  something  that  trul}^ 
descends,  with  all  its  divinity',  into  the  order  of  nature.  And  what 
shall  we  say  of  Him,  in  whom  all  prophecy  and  inspiration  became 
at  last  complete?  Was  it  His  office  simply  to  stand  between  the" 
two  worlds  that  met  in  His  person,  and  report  mi/stf7Hes  from  one 
to  another  for  the  use  of  faith  in  a  purely  outward  way  ?  What  is 
then  meant  by  the  declaration  :  The  Wo7-d  became  Fle><h  and  dwelt 
among  us,  and  we  beheld  His  glory,  the  glory  as  of  the  onl}-  be- 
gotten of  the  Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth  ?  Surely,  if  the  Gos- 
pel mean  anything,  we  have  here,  at  least,  the  supernatural  order 
linked  in  real  organic  union  with  the  natural,  and  showing  thus  the 
capacity  of  this  last,  as  well  as  its  need,  to  receive  into  itself  such 
higher  life  as  its  own  proper  complement  and  end.  It  will  not  do, 
in  the  face  of  such  a  fact  as  the  Incarnation^  to  say  that  the  real- 
ities with  which  faith  has  to  do  in  distinction  from  reason  are- 
wholly  without  light  or  evidence  for  this  last  in  their  own  nature, 
and  as  such  to  be  taken  on  the  mere  authority  of  God,  ascertained" 
in  some  other  way  ;  that  is,  in  such  a  sense  that  a  man  might  be 
supposed  to  be  infallibly  sure  first  that  he  has  this  authority  to  go  • 
upon,  and  so  be  prepared  to  accept  any  and  .every  proposition  as 
true,  on  the  strength  of  it,  with  equal  readiness  and  ease.  What  is. 
revelation,  if  it  be  not  the  actual  entrance  of  the  supernatural  inr 
some  way  over  into  the  sphere  of  the  natural? 
21 


330  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

"All  revelation,  as  distinguished  from  magic,  implies  the  self-ex- 
hibition of  God  in  a  real  way,  through  the  medium  of  the  world  in 
its  natural  form.  To  a  certain  extent,  we  have  such  a  revelation  in 
the  material  universe.  The  outward  creation  is  the  symbol, mirror, 
shrine  and  sacrament  of  the  divine  presence,  as  a  supernatural  fact, 
in  the  most  actual  way.  The  word  of  prophecy  and  inspiration  is 
the  gradual  coming  forth  of  eternal  truth  into  time,  in  a  like  real 
way,  through  the  medium  of  human  thought  and  speech ;  a  process 
which  completes  itself  finallj^  in  the  full  domiciliation  we  may  say 
of  the  Infinite  Word  in  the  life  of  the  world  by  Jesus  Christ. — In 
Him,  most  literall}^  and  truly,  the  supernatural  order  came  to  a  liv- 
ing and  perpetual  marriage  with  the  order  of  nature ;  something 
which  it  could  not  have,  if  the  constitution  of  the  one  had  not  been 
of  like  sort  with  that  of  the  other — if  man  had  not  been  made  in 
the  image  of  God — so  as  to  admit  and  require  such  a  union  as  the 
last  and  only  perfect  expression  of  the  world's  life.  It  lies  then  in 
the  nature  of  the  case,  that  Christ  can  be  no  abstraction,  no  soli- 
tary portent,  in  the  midst  of  the  world. 

"  But  now,  if  this  be  the  relation  of  the  supernatural  in  Christ 
Himself  to  the  sphere  of  nature,  it  is  not  easy  certainly  to  acquiesce 
in  any  theory  of  the  Church,  by  which  this  is  taken  to  be  the  me- 
dium of  revelation  in  a  wholly  different  st^de.  An  abstract  Church 
is  as  much  at  war  with  the  true  mystery  of  Christianity  as  an  ab- 
stract Christ.  Such  a  view  works  back  unfavorably  on  the  whole 
idea  of  revelation,  and  in  the  end  especially  wrongs  the  character 
of  Christ.  We  are  verj'  far  from  believing,  that  the  divinity  of  a 
revelation  turns  on  its  having  no  common  life  with  humanity;  on 
the  contrar}'  it  seems  to  us  to  become  complete  in  proportion  pre- 
cisel}'  as  the  supernatural,  by  means  of  it,  is  brought  to  enter  most 
fully  into  the  conditions  of  the  natural. 

"  The  theor}^  carries  with  it  finally, as  it  seems  to  us,  a  wrong  con- 
ception of  the  true  nature  and  power  of  fJT,ith,  involving  in  the  end 
the  very  consequence  it  seeks  professedly  to  shun,  namely,  the  sub- 
ordination of  it  to  reason,  or  its  resolution  into  mere  logic.  It 
goes  on  the  assumption  that  the  supernatural,  with  which  faith  has 
to  do,  is  so  sundered  from  the  natural,  as  to  admit  no  direct  ap- 
proach or  apprehension  from  that  side ;  that  truth  in  such  form  is  in- 
evident  for  the  mind  wholly  in  its  own  nature,  and  without  force  of 
reason  intrinsically  to  engage  its  assent;  that  the  mind  is  moved 
to  sUch  assent  in  its  case  accordingly,  not  by  any  motives  either  in 
itself  or  in  the  object  set  before  it,  but  by  something  extrinsic  to 
both,  the  weight  of  an  immediate  authorit}-  which  is  felt  to  be  fully 


Chap.  XXX]        brownson's  quarterly  review  331 

valid  as  a  ground  of  authority,  without  regard  to  the  nature  of 
what  is  thus  taken  in  trust  one  way  or  another.  The  subjective 
and  objective  come  to  no  union  of  contact  whatever.  The  gulf 
between  is  sprung  only  bj'  tentimoni/. 

"  We  object  to  the  way  in  which  faith  is  here  opposed  to  reason. 
Its  opposition  is  properly  to  sense,  and  to  nature  as  known  through 
sense;  to  reason  onlv  so  far  as  this  is  taken  for  the  understanding 
in  its  relation  to  such  knowledge.  Faith  is  the  capacity  of  per- 
ceiving the  invisible  and  supernatural,  the  substance  of  things  hoped 
for,  the  certification  of  things  not  seen  (Heb.  XI.  I);  which,  as  such, 
does  not  hold  on  the  outside  of  reason,  any  more  than  this  can  be 
said  of  sense,  but  opens  to  view  rather  a  higher  form  of  what  may 
be  called  its  own  proper  life,  in  which  it  is  required  to  become  com- 
plete, and  without  which  it  must  always  remain  comparatively  help- 
less, blind,  and  dark. — Faith  does  not  serve  simpl}-  to  furnish  new 
data  for  thought  in  an  outward  way,  but  includes  in  itself  also, 
potentiall}^  at  least,  the  force  of  reason  and  knowledge  in  regard  to 
its  own  object.  It  stands  in  rational  correspondence  with  its  con- 
tents, and  involves  such  an  apprehension  of  them  as  makes  the 
mind  to  be  in  some  degree  actuallv  in  their  sphere.  Faith  touches 
its  object  as  well  as  sense. — When  the  authority  for  faith  is  thus 
taken  to  be  extrinsic  to  the  supernatural  object,  as  with  the  Romish 
system  generally,  we  are  thrown  at  last  on  the  ver}-  rationalism, 
which  it  is  sought  in  this  way  to  avoid. 

"The  Church  we  hold  too  to  be  the  medium  of  the  Christian  rev- 
elation, the  organ  by  which  Christ  makes  himself  known  in  the 
world,  and  which  is  to  be  reverenced  on  this  account,  through  all 
ages,  as  His  Body,  the  fulness  of  Him  that  filleth  all  in  all.  But  it 
is  all  this,  not  in  a  mechanical,  (][uasi-magical  way,  as  a  witness  set 
forward  to  propound  the  truth  in  outward  style  only,  a  supernatural 
automaton  with  the  Pope  at  Rome  for  its  mouth-piece. — Faith 
starts  then  in  Christ.  Because  we  believe  in  Him,  we  believe  also 
in  the  Holy  Catholic  Church;  and  not  in  the  reverse  order. 

"  Protestants,  who  insist  on  sundering  the  Reformation  from  the 
church  life  of  the  previous  period,  do  as  much  as  they  Avell  can  to 
ruin  their  own  cause..  Unless  it  be  the  product  of  all  earlier  Church 
histor}',  it  can  deserve  no  faith.  Let  it  appear  on  the  other  hand, 
that  the  causes  which  led  to  it,  under  God,  were  in  full  force  for 
centuries  before;  that  they  are  seated  in  the  life  of  the  modern 
world  as  a  part  of  its  intrinsic  nature  and  constitution;  tiiat  this 
operation  is  to  l)e  traced  back  to  the  worUl-historical  epoi'li,  which 
laid  the  foundation  of  mo  lern  societv  amidst  the  crumbjiuir  ruins 


332  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.    IX 

of  that  which  went  before ;  and  it  becomes  at  once  to  the  same  ex- 
tent diffleult  to  resist  the  conviction,  that  it  belongs  to  the  true 
sense  of  Christianity,  and  that  it  came  to  pass  by  the  finger  of  Grod. 
Such  is  the  actual  state  of  the  case. 

"  The  new  form  of  humanitj^  brought  in  by  the  Northern  Bar- 
barians did  not  furnish  material  for  re-civilizing  Europe  in  its  old 
form,  but  offered  elements  which  were  not  previously  at  hand  for 
the  creation  also  of  another  order  of  civilization ;  by  which  in  the 
end  Christianit}^  was  to  become  more  complete  than  it  could  ever 
have  become  under  the  first  order.  Out  of  this  new  order  of  Chris- 
tian life,  made  possible  only  through  the  Grermanic  nature  as  dis- 
tinguished from  the  old  Roman,  sprang  with  inward  necessity  at  last 
the  Protect  of  the  Reformation.  Mr.  Brownson,  as  we  have  said, 
sees  this,  more  quick  of  vision  here  than  many  Protestants  ;  and 
sets  himself  to  forestall,  as  best  he  can,  the  weight  it  carries  against 
his  own  cause.  '■  We  frankly  confess,^  he  says,  'we  are  Grreco- 
Roman,  and  to  us  all  tribes  and  nations  are  barbarians,  just  as  they 
recede  from  the  Grjeco-Roman  stand. — Nowhere  else  does  history 
show  us  man  receiving,  under  all  the  aspects  of  his  nature,  so  high, 
so  thorough,  so  symmetrical, and  so  masculine  a  cultivation,  as  un- 
der this  wonderful  civilization.'  This  is  the  climax  of  culture  hu- 
manly considered.  Add  Christianity  to  it,  'and  you  have  a  civiliza- 
tion beyond  which  there  is  nothing  to  seek.'  Tried  by  this  standard, 
the  Middle  Ages  cannot  stand  the  test.  The  Church  labored  to 
civilize  them,  as  well  as  she  could,  according  to  the  old  norm,  with 
which  she  has  a  native  affinity ;  but  this  could  be  done  only  so  far 
as  the  nations  were  brought  to  exchange  the  barbaric  nature  for  the 
Roman.  '  Wherever  the  barbaric  element  has  remained  predominant 
in  the  national  life  as  in  Russia,  Scandinavia,  Prussia,  Saxony, 
Northern  German^',  or  where,  through  exterior  or  interior  causes, 
it  has  regained  the  predominance,  as  in  England  and  the  once 
Christianized  Oriental  nations,  the  nation  has  relapsed  into  heathen- 
ism, or  fallen  off  into  heresy  or  schism.  In  several  of  the  nations 
which  have  fallen  off  from  the  Church,  the  old  barbaric  institutions, 
traditions,  customs,  and  hereditary  hatred  of  Grteco-Roman  civiliza- 
tion, always  survived  in  the  heart  of  the  people,  and  nourished  a 
schism  between  its  national  life  and  its  Christian  faith.'  In  all  this 
there  is  much  truth.  The  Roman  nations  remain  Papal,  while  the 
Germanic  nations,  in  virtue  of  a  new  element  peculiar  to  themselves, 
could  never  make  over  their  will  in  the  same  way  to  mere  outward 
rule,  and  so  in  the  end  have  become  Protestant.  It  is  perfectly 
clear  that  nationality  has  exercised  a  determining  influence  on  this 


CiiAP.  XXX]         brownson's  quarterly  review  333 

great  issue  from  the  beginning.  Protestiiutism  is  tlie  child  of  the 
modern  civilization,  the  Teutonic  life,  and  not  of  the  Gmeco-Roman. 

"But  what  is  now  the  true  significance  of  this  fact?  The 'old 
GraH'o-Roman  civilization,'  says  Mr.  Brownson,  'must  be  held 
normal  for  all  ages;  your  Teutonic  life  consequently  is  at  fault, 
just  in  the  measure  of  its  variation  from  this  rule;  and  so  Protest- 
antism is  found  to  be  simplv  part  and  parcel  of  the  same  general 
abnormity,  the  final  upshot,  we  ma^- sa}-,  of  the  war  carried  on  with 
the  Church  by  the  refractor}'  s[)irit  of  these  Northern  BarbsTrians 
from  the  beginning.'  A  convenient  theory  truly.  But  how  violent, 
at  the  same  time,  and  arbitrary.  Only  see  what  it  involves.  The  nor- 
mal order  of  the  world  naturally-  considered,  its  best  possible  form 
and  true  ultimate  sense,  just  as  it  was  ready  to  go  fully  into  the 
arms  of  Christianity,  is  suddenl}-  dashed  to  the  ground  and  turned 
into  universal  wreck  by  the  inundation  of  an  entirely  new  life,  un- 
civilized, unlettered,  absolutely  rude  and  wild.  Europe  planted 
with  elementary  nations,  rerjuiring  the  growth  of  centuries  to  bring 
them  to  any  mature  and  settled  i)olitical  form;  the  work  of  a  thou- 
sand years  laid  upon  the  Church,  only  to  regain  in  some  measure 
the  loss  created  by  this  sad  catastrophe;  a  new  civilization  in  time, 
which  refuses,  however,  to  fall  fully  into  the  new  Christian  order, 
carries  in  it  more  or  less  a  semi-barbarous,  heathenish  character; 
and  issues  finally  in  an  open  rebellion  against  the  Church,  which  at 
the  same  time  bears  away  with  it  palpably  the  central  powers  and 
activities  of  the  world's  natural  life,  with  a  momentum  which  cen- 
turies haA'e  no  power  to  check  or  restrain!  It  surel}'  needs  no 
small  gift  of  faith  seriously  and  steadily-  to  give  credit  to  all  this. 
"Was  the  wreck  of  the  Gmeco-Roman  culture  an  accident?  Did  the 
Xorthern  Barbarians  come  on  the  stage  of  Europe  without  God's 
will  and  plan?  Was  there  no  end  to  he  answered  for  Christianity 
and  the  world,  by  the  taking  down  of  the  former  civilization,  the 
bringing  in  of  new  material,  the  open  field  created  for  the  building 
up  of  another  life,  and  the  work  of  so  many  centuries  emploj'ed  in 
the  accoin})lishment  of  this  great  object? 

"These  questions,  it  seems  to  us,  carry  in  them  their  own  answers. 
The  true  use  to  be  made  of  the  whole  case,  then,  is  just  the  reverse 
of  Mr.  Brownson's  view.  God  moves  in  history.  It  must,  there- 
fore, have  a  meaning.  It  must  especially  minister  to  Christ  and 
His  Church  ;  for  is  not  He  head  over  the  whole  of  it,  for  this  very 
end?  If  a  sparrow  fall  not  without  His  eye,  how  could  the  Vblkcr- 
windrrunf)  take  place  by  chance?  The  fact  that  He  should  so  re- 
move the  old.  and  make  room  for  the  new.  and  call  in  the  historical 


334  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

process  of  a  thousand  j-ears  to  come  to  His  object,  is  itself  enough 
to  show,  not  only  that  the  new  civilization  thus  sought  was  to  be 
different  from  that  which  was  rejected  in  its  favor,  but  also  that  it 
was  to  be  of  a  superior  order,  of  a  more  vigorous  constitution,  better 
suited  to  the  wants  of  humanity-  and  more  answerable  to  the  inte- 
rior demands  of  Christianity.  This  superiorit}'  of  the  modern 
civilization,  then,  turns  on  the  new  element  which  has  been  brought 
into  it  by  the  Germanic  or  Barbarian  life,  in  distinction  from  the 
old  Roman.  It  amounts  to  nothing,  that  Mr.  Brownson  stigmatizes 
this  as  heathen  ;  for  the  old  Roman  life  was  originally  heathen  too  ; 
and  it  is  purel}'  gratuitous  to  assume  that  Christianity  might  not 
appropriate  and  assimilate  to  itself  the  peculiarities  of  a  barbarous 
nationality  as  fully  and  as  completely  as  those  of  the  Grreco- 
Roman.  Its  province  is  not  to  stand  on  the  outside  of  nature  in 
the  way  of  foreign  help,  but  to  enter  into  it,  to  clarify  it,  and  to 
fill  it  with  divinity  after  its  own  form  and  type.  The  new  civiliza- 
tion thus  brought  to  pass  carried  in  itself  from  the.  beginning  the 
principle  of  freedom,  which  gave  birth,  as  Christ  had  all  along  de- 
signed, to  the  fact  of  Protestantism.  Its  distinctive  power,  of 
course,  fell  in  with  this  fact.  The  Romanic  nations  were  left  be- 
hind ;  not  without  some  great  ulterior  purpose,  we  may  presume ; 
while  the  Germanic  nations,  obedient  to  the  law  of  their  life,  are 
carrying  the  sense  of  history  in  the  Protestant  direction.  It  does 
not  follow  at  once,  we  know,  that  Protestantism  is  all  that  the 
world  needs  for  its  salvation,  because  it  now  carries  all  temporal 
interests  in  its  stream. 

"  Outward  activity  and  strength  are  not  of  themselves  the  guar- 
anty of  grace.  The  Protestant  moveiiient  may  prove  morally  un- 
equal to  its  own  problem.  Still  this  cannot  change  the  significance 
of  the  fact  as  now  stated.  It  belongs  to  the  reigning  power  of  the 
world's  civilization.  It  has  its  seat  in  the  spirit  of  the  world's 
civilization.  It  has  its  seat  too  in  the  spirit  of  the  nations  that  go 
with  it,  and  their  spirit  now  rules  the  course  of  humanity,  as  some- 
thing plainly  in  advance  of  the  spirit  that  meets  us  in  nations  still 
bound  to  the  authoritj^  of  Rome.  In  this  view,  if  we  believe  in 
Christ,  we  are  bound  to  acknowledge  in  it,  if  nothing  more,  yet 
surely  the  necessary  medium  of  transition  at  least  for  the  Church 
of  God  into  a  higher  and  better  state.  Not  to  do  so,  turns  the 
past  into  a  riddle  and  shrouds  the  future  in  despair.  Protestant- 
ism, as  it  now  stands,  at  all  events  has  the  floor  of  history,  carries 
the  word  of  the  age ;  and  the  last  sense  of  Christianity,  the  grand 
scope  of  Christ's  Mediatorial  reign,  is  to  be  reached  through  it,  by 


Chap.  XXX]        brownson's  quarterly  review  335 

its  help  and  intervention  in  some  way,  and  not  l)y  its  lieing  turned 
aside  as  only  an  important  accident,  or  mere  nullity-,  in  the  course  of 
this  all  conquering  dispensation. 

"  It  will  be  seen  that  our  object  has  been  to  convict  the  general 
Roman  principle  of  falsehood,  by  showing  it  to  run  into  untenable 
consequences,  and  to  be  at  war  with  the  true  principle  of  our  life. 
This  is  not  with  us,  of  course,  an  argument  for  the  mere  negation 
or  denial  of  the  same  principle,  as  the  true  meaning  and  force  of 
Protestantism.  We  have  before  tried  to  expose  the  rock  on  that 
side;  and  our  object  now  in  setting  forth  the  dangers  of  the  whirl- 
pool, is  certainly  not  to  recommend  the  first  as  on  the  whole  less 
false  and  terrible  than  the  second.  Rationalism,  the  resolution  of 
faith  into  the  mere  mind  and  will  of  man  (with  the  Bible  or  without 
it),  under  all  its  forms  and  shapes,  we  religiousl}*  abhor  and  hate. 
With  the  reigning  slang  on  that  side,  we  have  no  s^'mpathy  what- 
ever. Here  then  the  question  comes  up,  How  are  these  extremes 
to  be  at  once  both  avoided?  And  no  question  can  well  be  more  great 
and  solemn.  We  pretend  not  now,  however,  to  answer  it.  Enough 
so  far,  if  we  have  been  able  to  show  that  it  needs  and  demands  an 
answer;  that  the  truth  is  not,  in  this  case,  in  either  of  the  alter- 
natives, separatel}^  taken,  which  for  the  common  undei'standing  seem 
to  cover  the  whole  ground;  that  Christianity,  in  one  word,  must 
find  its  true  sense  between  them,  in  a  form  of  life  that  shall  be  the 
union  of  both.  It  is  much  to  be  sure  of  what  is  false  and  wrong 
here,  even  if  at  a  loss  still  to  master  the  full  meaning  of  what  is  right. 
The  best  preparation  for  solving  the  problem  of  the  age  is  to  be 
well  satisfied  that  the  problem  really  exists,  and  so  to  feel  earnestly' 
that  it  calls  for  solution." 

Previous  to  the  appearance  of  this  critique  of  Brownson^s  Quar- 
terly lieview  in  the  January  and  Maj'  numbers  of  the  3IercerHburg 
Revieiu,  1850,  Dr.  Nevin  had  been  charged  with  being  one-sided  and 
Romanizing.  He  had  held  up  false  Protestantism  and  exposed  it 
in  its  negative  emptiness, and  to  some  it  seemed  as  if  he  was  in  some 
sort  of  secret  sympathy  with  Romanism.  The  review  of  Brownson 
fairly  defined  his  position  in  regard  to  the  Roman  system  on  the 
other  side.  Starting  out  from  his  own  theological  and  philosophical 
principles,  he  sought  to  convict  it  of  fiilsehood,  in  whicli  he  no 
doubt  believed  he  was  successful.  As  his  philosoph}'  remained  sub- 
stantially the  same  throughout  life,  we  may  take  it  for  granted  that 
the  conclusions  arrived  at  in  his  criticisms  of  Brownson,  who  repre- 
sented Roman  Catholic  orthodoxy  at  the  time,  remained  substan- 
tially the  same.     >[r.  Brownson  replied  to  Dr.  Xevin's  review  of 


336  AT   MERCERSBURG   FROM   1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

Ms  Quarterly  in  courteous  terms,  admitting  that  he  had  found  Jiim 
quite  a  difterent  opponent  from  those  he  had  hitherto  been  accus- 
tomed to  encounter.  His  replay  consisted  largely  of  an  effort  to 
show  the  errors  into  which  his  system  led,  particularly' ^o??i/?f ism, 
the  prolific  source  of  all  other  religious  heresies.  Such  a  deduc- 
tion might  be  expected  even  from  Dr.  Nevin's  Protestantism,  be- 
cause Mr.  Brownson  had,  as  he  affirmed,  "  shown  over  and  over 
again  that  all  Protestantism,  whatever  its  form,  has  an  inA'incible 
tendency  to  Pantheism."  To  this  Dr.  Nevin  made  a  brief  reply,  in 
which  he  proceeded  to  prove  that  Mr.  Brownson 's  theory  of  the  uni- 
verse was  just  as  mechanical  as  his  theolog}?"  or  view  of  the  Christian 
Church.  The  discussion  thus  di'ifted  into  questions  of  pure  meta- 
physics, in  which  there  seemed  to  be  no  common  ground,  and  Dr. 
Nevin  withdrew  from  the  controversy,  with  Mr.  Brownson 's  high 
regard  for  him  as  a  controversialist. — See  the  January  and  May 
numbers  of  the  Mercersburg  Review^  1850. 


•  CHAPTER  XXXI 

EARLY  ChrMianity. — The  lust,  and  liy  far  the  most  original 
contributions  to  the  solution  of  the  Church  Question  which 
Dr.  Xevin  made  in  the  Mrrcerxhiircj  Revioic,  consisted  of  two 
articles  on  Early  Christianity  in  the  year  1851  and  four  on  Cyprian 
in  1852.  In  many  respects,  they  were  remarkable.  Because  they 
seemed  to  yield  very  libenilly  to  the  claims  of  the  Roman  Catholics 
on  A-arious  points,  they  were  regarded  at  the  time  as  sufficiently 
startling.  It  was  at  a  period  when  Protestants  had  become  ver}' 
sensitive  in  consequence  of  the  conversion  of  a  number  of  Pusey- 
ites  in  England  and  this  country  to  the  Roman  Catholic  faith,  and 
it  was  predicted  by  some  that  Dr.  Nevin  himself  would  also  fall 
over  and  walk  in  the  footsteps  of  Newman  and  Manning.  But  he 
did  nothing  of  the  kind.  He  sim])ly  tried  to  do  what  he  had  been 
doing  before,  honestly  and  earnestly,  in  his  efforts  to  sound  the 
profound  problem  concerning  the  Church  Question,  which  of  its 
own  accord  pressed  upon  his  mind  and  gave  him  much  agon}^  of 
heart — a  veritable  anfjina  pectori>i. — He  passed  through  the  fiery 
conflict,  without  deserting  his  banner,  without  sacrificing  his 
principles,  and  without  losing  his  common  sense.  Amidst  a 
babel  of  warring  sectarians,  according  to  the  light  given  him.  and 
without  claiming  for  himself  infallibility,  he  endeavored  to  point 
out  the  way,  as  he  had  done  before,  to  true  Catholic  unit}',  by 
which  the  universal  Church  of  Christ  might  be  again  restored  to 
peace  and  concord,  hoping  that  others  might  study  the  subject, 
and  if  they  knew  of  a  better  way  than  his,  that  they  would  make 
it  known.  In  his  book  on  the  Mystical  Presence;  he  had  shown 
that  a  considerable  portion  of  the  Protestant  Church  had  drifted 
away  from  the  landmarks  of  the  Reformation  on  the  vital  points 
connected  with  the  Lord's  Supper,  and  noAv  six  years  later,  he 
proceeded  to  show  that  there  was  a  similar  drifting  away  in  the 
Protestant  world  from  primitive  or  earh'  Christianity,  if  not  in 
spirit,  at  least  in  the  form  or  embodiment  of  Christian  life. — The 
articles  referred  to,  if  read  at  the  present  time,  produce  a  much  less 
startling  effect  than  they  did  thirty-seven  years  ago.  The  times 
change  and  we  change  with  them. 

The  discussion  is  made  to  start  ouf  with  two  (|uotations,one  from 
an  American  Congregational  minister  and  the  other  from  an  Eng- 

(33V) 


338  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

lisli  Bishop,  which  were  employed  to  serve  as  texts,  or  rather  as  oc- 
casions, for  the  discussions  that  followed.  Dr.  Leonard  Bacon,  of 
New  Haven,  had  just  written  a  letter  from  Lyons,  in  France,  and 
published  it  in  the  Neiv  York  Independent,  in  which  he  had  said 
that  "  in  that  city  the  Roman  Catholic  religion  is  more  flourishing, 
Avith  the  indications  of  living  zeal,nnd  more  deepl}'  seated  in  the  af- 
fections of  the  people  than  in  any  city  on  the  continent  of  Europe. — 
But  the  worship,  instead  of  being  offered  exclusively  and  directly 
in  Christ's  name  to  the  one  living  and  true  God,  is  offered  to  deified 
mortals  and  chiefly  to  Mary,  the  Mother  of  God.  Instead  of  being 
addressed  only  to  an  invisible  God,  it  is  offered  to  images  and  pic- 
tures (and  those,  for  the  most  part,  of  no  superior  description), 
and  to  dead  men's  bones.  Not  in  such  places,  nor  where  such  wor- 
ship is  offered,  are  we  to  look  for  the  true  succession  from  the 
apostles  and  primitive  martyrs,  the  true  Catholic  Church,  which  is 
the  body  of  Christ."  That,  as  he  thought,  was  to  be  found  in  a 
small  Evangelical  mission  in  Lyons,  in  which  Rev.  Adolphe 
Monod  had  labored  successfully  some  years  before,  in  regard  to 
which  he  said,  "that  he  did  not  know  where  to  look  for  a  more 
satisfiictory  representation  of  the  ideal  of  primitive  Christianity 
than  may  be  found  in  the  cit}'  which  was  made  illustrious  so  long 
ago  by  the  labors  of  Irenreus,  and  by  the  martyrdom  of  Pothinus 
and  Blandina." 

The  other  quotation,  which  helped  to  generate  thought,  in  Dr. 
Nevin's  mind,  was  taken  from  an  old  book,  of  "  Travels  in 
Europe  in  1823,"  by  Rev.  Daniel  Wilson,  better  known  after- 
wards as  the  Bishop  of  Calcutta.  In  these  travels  he  came  to 
Milan,  Italy,  where  St.  Ambrose  once  labored,  who,  in  his  opin- 
ion, was  a  true  Christian,  loving  the  Saviour  and  depending  on 
his  merits  for  justification,  much  in  the  same  waj^  as  Protest- 
ants generally  profess  to  do.  The  English  rector,  however,  was 
compelled  "to  witness  with  grief  and  indignation  all  the  super- 
stitions of  Popery  in  their  full  triumph."  After  an  English  ser- 
vice on  Sunday  he  went  into  the  great  cathedral  to  see  the  cate- 
chising, or  rather  Sunday-schools,  instituted  by  St.  Charles  Bor- 
romeo,  already  in  the  sixteenth  century.  Each  school  had  a 
small  pulpit,  with  a  cloth  in  front,  bearing  the  motto  of  the  saint, 
"  Humilitas."  He  pitied  these  poor  children  thus  taught  the  corrup- 
tions of  Popery  ;  still  he  was  willing  to  Jbelieve  that  some  good  was 
done  in  these  schools.  "The  Catholic  catechisms,"  he  says,  "  con- 
tain the  foundation  of  the  Christian  religion,  a  general  view  of 
Scripture  history,  explanations  of  the  creation  and  redemption  of 


ClIAP.  XXXI]  EARLY   CHRISTIANITY  339 

nijinkiml,  some  good  instructions  on  tlie  moral  law,  sound  state- 
ments on  the  divinity  of  Christ,  and  the  II0I3-  Trinity;  some  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  fiill  of  man,  and  the  necessity  of  the  grace 
of  God's  Holy  Spirit;  with  inculcations  of  repentance,  contrition, 
humility,  self-denial,  watchfulness,  and  preparation  for  death  and 
the  judgment.  Still  all  is  wofully  mixed  up  with  superstition, 
and  error,  and  human  traditions,  and  even  the  most  pious  men  of 
that  communion  do  not  enough  distinguish  them." 

To  Mr.  Wilson,  Borromeo  was  a  very  interesting  character,  but 
somewhat  of  a  myth  until  his  return  to  England,  when,  after  con- 
sulting his  books,  he  was  vexed  that  he  had  been  so  long  ignorant 
of  his  history  and  character.  After  reading  Milner's  Church  His- 
tory, he  came  to  the  conclusion,  "that  his  habits  of  devotion,  his 
self-denial,  his  zeal,  his  fortitude,  his  humility,  and  especially  the 
unbounded  and  almost  unparalleled  benevolence,  ascribed  to  him 
b^^  universal  consent,  would  lead  one  to  hope  that  notwithstanding 
the  wood,  hay  and  stubble  accumulated  on  it,  he  was  building  on 
the  true  foundation,  Jesus  Christ — -The  actions  of  his  life  may  lead 
one  the  most  to  hope  that  this  tender  hearted  prelate  w'as  indeed 
animated  with  the  fear  and  love  of  his  Saviour. — My  materials  are 
scanty,  especially  as  to  the  spiritual  state  of  his  heart  and  affec- 
tions; l)ut  charity  rejoices  to  hope  all  things  in  such  a  case." 

To  all  this  Dr.  Xevin  remarks,  "that  one  can  hardly  help  feeling 
somewhat  amused  with  the  evident  embarrassment  in  which  the  good 
Yicar  of  Islington  finds  himself  w'ith  his  facts.  With  the  instance 
of  Ambrose  in  the  case  before  us,  he  can  get  along  without  an^' 
serious  difficulty,  taking  Milner's  Church  History  for  his  guide,  and 
holding  fast  always  to  the  common  Anglican  theory  of  a  marked 
distinction  between  the  Christianity  of  the  first  four  or  five  cen- 
turies, and  that  of  the  thousand  years  following.  There  are  hard 
things  to  understand  in  the  piet}'  of  Ambrose  and  Augustine,  even 
as  we  have  it  portrayed  to  us  in  Milner;  for  which,  however,  an 
ai)ology  is  found  in  the  supposition,  that  standing  as  they  did  on 
the  borders  of  the  great  Apostacy  which  was  to  follow,  they  came 
accidentally  here  and  there  within  the  folds  of  its  impending  shadow, 
without  still  belonging  to  it  i)roperly  in  the  sul)stance  of  their  faith. 
But  the  idea  of  any  similar  exhibition  of  apostolical  religion  from 
the  same  see  of  Milan,  under  the  full-blown  Papacy  and  in  open 
communion  with  its  corruptions — and'all  this  too,  in  the  middle  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  and  in  tlie  jum-sou  of  one  who  had  been  em- 
jiloyi-d  to  draw  ui)  the  Roman  Catechism  for  the  Council  of  Trent 
— was  altogether  another  matter,  and  something  not  provided   for 


340  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DlY.  IX 

plainly  in  any  "wa}-  by  our  tourist's  previous  theory.     Tlie  good 
account  he  hears  of  Borromeo  perplexes  him. 

"  Subsequently,  however,  it  came  into  his  mind  to  look  into  the 
soul  of  the  Catholic  saint  in  this  way;  and  now  every  doubt  as 
to  the  genuineness  of  his  piety  was  forced  to  retire  ;  so  that  in  the 
second  edition  of  the  same  book  we  have  finally  a  free,  full,  and  al- 
together joyful  acknowledgment  of  the  fact,  that  in  the  persou  of 
Borromeo  the  Roman  communion  actually  produced,  so  late  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  out  of  its  own  bosom  and  as  it  were  in  the  verj' 
face  of  the  Reformation  itself,  a  veritable  saint  of  like  station  and 
piety  with  the  great  St.  Ambrose  of  the  fourth  century,  and  worthy 
even  to  be  set  in  some  sort  of  comparison  with  the  Protestant 
saints,  Zwingli,  Luther  and  Calvin.  Under  huge  incrustations  of 
Popish  superstition,  may  be  clearly  traced  still,  in  the  extraor- 
dinary^ case,  the  lineaments  of  a  truly  evangelical  faith,  an  actual 
diamond  of  grace,  formed,  no  one  can  tell  how,  in  the  very  start,  of 
what  might  seem  to  be  mostly  at  war  with  its  whole  nature.  The 
case  is  accordingly  set  down  as  a  sort  of  grand  exception  to  com- 
mon history,  the  next  thing  to  a  lusus  natin^se  in  the  world  of  grace. 
Anselm,  Bernard,  Thomas  a  Kempis,  Fenelon  and  a  few  other  like 
celebrities,  perhaps,  names  'rari  nantes  in  gurgite  vasto,'  are  re- 
ferred habitually  to  the  same  convenient  category  or  rubric.  They 
are  spiritual  curiosities,  which  no  one  should  be  expected  to  under- 
stand or  explain." 

Having  given  these  statements  of  representatives  of  opposite 
wings  of  Protestantism,  Dr.  Nevin  proceeds  to  consider  the  theory 
underlying  them,  and  joins  issue  with  them  both  on  the  church  ques- 
tion. In  the  mind  of  the  vicar  he  discovers  two  false  conceptions, 
which  he  felt  compelled  to  combat.  In  the  first  place,  his  estimate 
of  the  extent  to  which  real  piety  has  existed  in  the  Catholic  Church, 
both  before  and  since  the  Reformation,  is  in  no  sort  of  agreement 
Avith  the  truth.  In  the  second  place,  his  imagination  that  this  piety 
is  in  no  sense  the  proper  product  of  the  Catholic  religion  as  such, 
but  something  violently  exceptional  to  its  natural  course,  is  not  a 
whit  less  visionary  and  unsound.  These  opinions  were  not  simply 
the  judgment  of  a  single  Episcopalian  in  England  nor  of  a  Puritan 
divine  of  high  standing  in  America,  but  entered  largely  into  the 
Protestant  thinking  of  the  day,  so  that  Dr.  Nevin  lost  sight  of  them 
as  the  notions  of  individuals  find  aimed  his  arguments  against  the 
general  spirit  out  of  which  the}'  sprung. 

In  regard  to  the  first  point,theDoctor  was  well  aware  that  public 
opinion  in  Protestant  ranks,  in  those  days,  was  as  a  general  thing 


Chap.  XXXI]  early  Christianity  341 

very  sensitive.  For  a  Protestant  theologian  to  say  anything  favor- 
able of  the  Catholic  Church  exposed  him  to  prosecution,  or  the 
suspicion  that  he  was  not  true  to  his  faith  ;  but  our  fearless  inves- 
tigator of  historical  truth  at  Mercersburg  was  not  moved  by  any 
consideration  of  this  kind,  and  he  felt  compelled  by  his  candor,  as 
well  as  liis  native  honesty,  to  declare  what  he  believed  to  be  the 
trutli.  The  Popes,  from  time  immemorial,  had  been  anathematizing 
the  Protestants,  although  he  regarded  them  as  his  baptized  chil- 
dren; and  they  in  return  had  been  doing  the  same  thing  to  the 
Pope  and  his  Church  in  their  own  individual  capacities,  and  on 
their  own  responsibility.  Dr.  Nevin  had  been  brought  up  in  this 
same  hatred  towards  Rome,  but  he  had  studied  Neander,  and  hav- 
ing arrived  at  his  theological  manhood,  he  had  changed  his  mind  in 
regard  to  such  matters.  A  reaction  set  in  w4iich  carried  him  in  the 
opposite  direction,  something  that  surprised  man}'  persons  and  led 
some  people  to  think  and  say  that  he  was  rushing  headlong  into 
Romanism,  whilst  occupying  a  responsible  position  in  Protestant 
ranks.  From  the  Reformation  downwards  seldom  has  a  Protestant 
theologian  ventured  to  sa}'  such  favorable  things  of  the  Roman 
Catholics  as  the  author  of  these  articles  on  Early  Christianity'.  He 
believed  that  it  was  necessary,  at  the  time,  for  him  to  do  so  in  order 
to  place  Protestantism  itself  on  its  proper  basis  as  well  as  to  throw 
light  upon  the  Church  Question,  which  noctes  et  dies  pressed  itself 
upon  his  thoughts.  We  here  give  a  few  specimens  of  his  utter- 
ances : 

"Of  all  styles  of  upholding  Protestantism,  we  may  say  that  is 
absolutely  the  worst,  which  can  see  no  sense  or  truth  whatever  in 
Catholicism,  but  holds  itself  bound  to  make  it  at  ever}-  point  as 
bad  as  possible,  and  to  fight  off  with  tooth  and  nail  every  word 
that  ma}'  be  spoken  in  its  praise.  Such  wholesale  and  extreme 
pugnacity  may  be  very  convenient ;  as  it  calls  for  no  discrimina- 
tion ;  it  requires  neither  learning  nor  thought,  but  can  be  played 
off'  under  all  circumstances  by  almost  an}'  polemic,  w'ith  about  the 
same  effect.  Its  strength  consists  mainly  in  calling  nicknames,  in 
repeating  outrageous  charges  without  regard  to  an}!-  contradiction 
from  the  other  side,  in  thrumming  over  threadbare  common-places, 
received  by  tradition  from  the  easy  credulity  of  times  past,  in  huge 
exaggerations,  vast  distortions,  and  bold,  insulting  insinuations, 
thrown  out  at  random  in  any  and.  every  direction.  But  however 
convenient  all  this  may  l)e,  re(iuiring  little  reading  and  less  thought, 
and  no  politeness  nor  charit}'  whatever,  it  is  high  time  to  see  that 
it  is  a  system  of  tactics,  which  needs  in  truth  only  a  slight  change 


342  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

of  circumstances  a,t  any  time  to  work  just  the  opposite  way  from 
that  in  which  it  is  meant  to  work.  The  vanity  and  impotenc}^  of 
it  must  become  apparent  in  proportion  precisely  as  men  are  brought 
to  look  at  things  with  their  own  eyes;  and  then  the  result  is,  that 
sensible  and  well-bred  people,  not  onl}-  those  who  go  by  the  text- 
book of  a  sect,  but  such  as  move  in  a  wider  range  of  thought  and 
have  some  better  knowledge  of  the  world,  political  and  literary 
men,  seeing  how  they  have  been  imposed  upon  by  the  current  slang, 
are  very  apt  to  be  taken  with  a  sort  of  quiet  disgust  towards  the 
whole  interest  which  they  find  to  be  thus  badly  defended,  and  thus 
to  look  favorably  in  the  same  measure  on  the  other  side,  as  being 
at  so  many  points  plainly  an  injured  and  persecuted  cause. 

"  It  is  a  sheer  prejudice  to  suppose,  in  the  first  place,  that  cases 
of  sanctity  and  true  godliness  have  been,  or  are  now,  of  only  rare 
occurrence  in  the  Roman  communion.  Any  one  who  is  willing  at 
all  to  look  into  the  actual  history  of  the  Church,  to  listen  to  its 
own  voice,  to  study  its  institutions,  to  make  himself  acquainted 
with  its  works,  will  soon  find  reason  enough  to  rejoice  in  a  widel}' 
diff"erent  and  far  more  favorable  view..  To  make  our  opposition  to 
Romanism  of  any  weight,  the  first  condition  would  seem  to  be 
clearly,  that  we  should  have  made  ourselves  acquainted  with  it  on 
its  own  ground,  and  that  we  should  have  taken  some  pains  to  learn 
from  the  S3^stem  itself  what  it  means  and  wills.  But  of  all  that  army 
of  zealots,  who  hold  themselves  perfectly  prepared  to  demolish  it  at 
a  blow,  through  the  stage  or  press,  how  few  are  there  probably  who 
have  ever  felt  it  necessary  to  get  their  facts  from  other  than  the 
most  common  Protestant  sources.  Take  our  ministers  generall3^ 
Has  one  in  fifty  of  them  ever  examined  seriously  a  Catholic  work 
of  divinity,  whether  didactic,  practical  or  historical?  An  ordinary 
anti-popery  assault  implies  no  preparation  of  this  sort  whatever; 
but  rather  a  dogged  purpose  only,  not  to  hear  or  believe  a  single 
word  the  Catholics  sa}"  for  themselves,  while  everything  contrary 
to  this  is  forced  upon -them  from  other  quarters,  as  the  voice  and 
sense  of  their  sj^stem.  The  sooner  all  such  indecencies  can  be 
brought  to  an  end  the  better.  The}^  help  not  Protestantism,  but 
serve  onh^  to  involve -it  in  reproach." — Such  language  from  a  Prot- 
estant theologian  thirty-eight  years  ago  was  ominous  and  sufficient 
to  subject  him  to  the  very  grave  suspicion  with  being  in  some  way 
in  collusion  with  the  Church  of  Rome.  But  times  have  changed. 
Protestants  have  imbibed  more  liberal  views  of  history  and  facts, 
and  if  the  Bishop  of  Rome  still  pronounces  his  anathemas,  it  is  no 
longer  deemed  necessary  for  us  to  hurl  them  back  again  at  the 


Chap.  XXXI]  early  Christianity  343 

Vatican  from  Protestnnt  camps.  Romanism  is  Cliristianit}' — of 
the  Gra?co-lloman  type — as  Mr.  Brownson  was  compelled  to  admit 
— and  not  something  as  bad  as  heathenism,  as  some  persons  used 
to  say  and  write.  Dr.  Van  Dyke,  in  the  article  referred  to  in  the 
Presbyterian  Review  \w  1881,  made  use  of  language  quite  as  strong 
as  that  given  above,  and  no  one  seemed  disposed  to  call  him  to  ac- 
count. Obiter  dictum,  he  does  not  hesitate  to  say, ''that  tJie  ma- 
jority of  nominal  Christians,  including  multitudes  of  the  ablest  and 
purest  of  mankind,  believe  in  transubstautiation." 

''But  in  the  second  place,"  says  Dr.  Nevin,  "it  is  just  as  blind  a 
prejudice  again  to  suppose  that  the  piet}'  of  the  Roman  church, 
such  as  it  is,  springs  not  from  the  proper  life  of  the  system  itself,  ' 
but  is  there  rather  by  accident,  and  as  something  out  of  place,  so 
to  speak,  in  spite  of  the  unfriendly  connections  with  which  it  is  sur- 
rounded ;  so  that  it  needs  only  to  be  torn  up  from  the  soil  in  which 
it  thus  happens  to  stand,  and  transplanted  into  trulv  evangelical 
liberty',- where  it  might  be  expected  to  thrive  and  flourish  at  a  much 
better  rate.  The  nature  and,  as  it  were,  normal  tendency  of  Catholi- 
cism, in  the  view  of  this  prejudice,  is  not  to  piety  at  all,  but  only 
to  superstition  and  sin ;  for  it  is  taken  to  be  a  S3'stematic  conspir- 
acy against  the  doctrine  of  grace  from  the  beginning;  and  hence 
when  we  meet  with  the  phenomenon  of  a  truly  evangelical  spirit 
here  and  there  in  its  communion,  as  in  the  case  of  Pascal  or  Fenelon, 
we  are  bound  to  see  in  it  a  wonderful  exception  to  established  law, 
and  to  admire  so  much  the  more  the  power  of  the  evangelical  prin- 
ciple, which  is  sufficient  even  in  such  luitoward  circumstances  to 
bring  to  pas?  so  great  a  miracle.  No  one,  however,  can  study  the 
subject  to  any  extent  for  himself  without  being  led  to  see  that  the 
very  reverse  of  all  this  is  the  truth.  Catholicism  is  inwardly  fitted 
for  the  production  of  its  own  forms  of  piety,  and  owes  them  to  no 
foreign  source  or  influence  whatever.  Its  saints  are  not  exotics, 
that  pine  after  other  climes  and  skies,  but  products  of  home  growth, 
answerable  in  all  respects  to  the  conctitions  that  surround  them. 
To  place  them  in  other  relations  would  be,  not  to  advance,  but  to 
cripple  their  life.  Borromeo  was  constitutionall}-  a  Catholic  in  his 
piety,  and  not  a  Protestant.  The  same  may  be  said  of  Fenelon,  of 
Philip  de  Xeri,  of  Anselm  and  Bernard,  of  Ambrose  and  of  the  old 
church  fathers  generally.  The  piety  of  all  of  them  has  a  complex- 
ion, which  is  materially  different  from  anj-  that  we  meet  Avith  in 
the  modern  Protestant  world.  AVe  mean  not  to  call  into  question 
the  reality  of  this  last,  or  its  high  worth;  all  we  wish  to  say  is,  that 
it  is  of  another  character  and  order,  and  that  we  find  that  the  saint- 


344  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

liness  in  the  Roman  Church  is  sti'ictl3'  and  legitimate!}^  from  itself 
and  not  from  abroad.  To  Protestantize  it  even  in  imagination,  is 
to  turn  it  into  caricature,  and  to  eviscerate  it  at  last  of  its  very  life. 
What  could  the  early  church  fathers  do  with  themselves  in  New 
England? 

"And  just  so  it  is  with  the  piety  of  this  Church  in  general.  It 
is  fairl}'  and  truly  native  to  the  soil  from  which  it  springs.  That 
Church  with  all  its  supposed  errors  and  sins  has  ever  had  power  in 
its  own  wa}^  to  produce  a  large  amount  of  very  lovely  religion.  If 
it  has  been  the  mother  of  abominations,  it  has  been  unquestionably 
the  mother  also  of  martyrs  and  saints. 

"  To  deal  with  Romanism  to  any  purpose  we  must  get  rid  of  the 
notion  that  it  carries  in  it  no  truth,  no  grace,  no  principle  of  re- 
ligious activity  and  life ;  that  it  is  as  bad  as  infidelity,  if  not  a  good 
deal  worse;  that  it  lacks  all  the  attributes  of  a  church,  and  is  purely 
a  synagogue  of  Satan  or  a  mere  human  confederacy,  for  worldly 
and  unhallowed  ends. 

"The  New  Yor-k  Observer  lately  affirmed  that  'Romanism  and 
Socialism  are  essentially  anti-Christiq.n,  and  many  wise  and  good 
men  regard  infidelity  as  the  least  evil  of  the  two  when  the  choice 
must  be  between  it  and  Popery.' — Dr.  Hengstenberg,  of  Berlin,  on 
the  other  hand,  had  the  courage  to  say  to  the  Protestants  of  the 
rationalistic  no-religion  school,  who  were  disposed  to  place  religion 
in  mere  opposition  and  mere  contradiction  to  the  Catholic  Church, 
'Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan;'  and  to  proclaim  to  the  world,  that 
'there  is  no  comparison  to  be  thought  of  between  Infidelity  and 
Catholicism,  and  that  when  it  comes  to  a  war  with  the  first,  all  our 
affections  and  sj^mpathies  are  bound  to  go  jo3'fully  with  the  last,  as 
one  grand  division  simply  of  the  great  army  of  faith,  to  which  all 
true  Protestants  as  well  as  all  true  Catholics  belong.' 

"But  what  we  have  in  view  now,  more  particularly,  is  to  expose 
the  fallacy  that  lies  in  the  extracts  we  have  given  from  Dr.  Bacon 
and  Bishop  Wilson,  with  regard  to  Eai'ly  Christianity,  as  compared 
with  that  particular  modern  scheme  of  religion,  which  they  dignify 
with  the  title  of  Evangelical,  and  which  is  for  them  the  onl}^  true 
and  perfect  sense  of  the  Gospel.  Both  writers  assume,  that  there 
existed  in  the  beginning,  back  of  the  corruptions  and  abuses  of 
Romanism,  and  subsequently  to  the  time  of  the  Apostles,  a  certain 
golden  age,  longer  or  shorter,  of  comparatively  pure  religious  faith, 
which  truly  represented  still  the  simplicity  and  spirituality^  of  the 
proper  divine  model  of  the  Church,  as  we  have  it  plainly  exhibited 
in  the  New  Testament;  and  that  this  was  in  all  material  respects  of 


Chap.  XXXI]  early  Christianity  345 

one  character  precisely  with  what  they  now  approve  as  the  best 
stj^le  of  Protestantism.  But  never  was  there  a  more  perfect  mis- 
take. 

"  It  may  be  easy  enough  to  show  that  there  are  many  points  of 
difference  between  Earl3-  Christianit}'  and  Rorrianism,  as  we  find 
this  established  in  later  times.  But  this  fact  is  by  no  means  suffi- 
cient to  show  that  the  first  was  to  the  same  extent  in  agreement 
with  modern  Protestantism,  whether  in  the  Episcopalian  or  in  the 
Congregational  form.  It  is  clear  on  the  contrary  that  no  such 
agreement  has  ever  had  place,  but  that  modern  Protestantism  is 
still  farther  away  from  this  older  faith  than  the  system  b}-  which  it 
is  supposed  to  have  been  supplanted  in  the  Middle  Ages.  No  de- 
fence of  Protestantism  can  well  be  more  inefficient  and  unsound, 
than  that  by  which  it  is  set  forth  as  a  pure  rej)ri.sti nation  simpl}- 
of  what  Christianity  was  at  the  beginning,  either  in  the  fourth  cen- 
tury, or  the  third,  or  the  second.  It  is  always  found  on  examina- 
tion to  have  no  such  character  in  fact;  and  ever}-  attempt  to  force 
upon  the  world  any  imagination  of  the  sort,  in  favor  either  of  Epis- 
copy,  or  Presbjterianism,  or  .Independency,  must  only  serve  in  the 
end  by  its  palpable  falsehood  to  bring  suspicion  and  doubt  on  the 
whole  cause  which  is  thus  badly  upheld.  Whatever  differences  there 
may  be  between  believers  of  the  first  ages  and  those  that  followed  it, 
it  is  still  plain  enough  that  the  course  of  things  was  from  the  very 
start  towards  that  order  which  afterwards  prevailed  (Graeco-Roman 
Christianity. — Ed.) ;  that  this  later  order  therefore  stands  bound  by 
true  historical  connection  with  what  went  before;  and  that  Protest- 
antism, accordingly,  as  a  still  more  advanced  period  in  the  general 
movement  of  history,  holds  a  living  relation  to  the  first  period, 
onl}'  through  the  medium  of  the  second,  and  is  just  as  little  a  cop}' 
of  the  one  in  form  as  it  is  in  the  other. 

"This  we  sincerely  believe  is  the  only  ground  on  which  ma^-  be 
set  up  an}'  rational  defence  of  the  great  revolution  of  the  sixteenth 
century  (apart  from  Scripture. — Ed.),  in  conjunction  with  a  true 
faith  in  the  Divine  character  of  the  Church.  It  is  the  theory  of 
historical  development,  which  assumes  the  possibility  and  necessity 
of  a  transition  on  the  part  of  the  Church  through  various  stages  of 
form^  as  in  all  growth,  for  the  very  purpose  of  bringing  out  more 
and  more  full}'  the  true  inward  sense  of  this  life,  which  has  ahva3's 
been  one  and  the  same  from  the  beginning. — The  only  escape  there 
is  in  the  formula  of  the  same  and  yet  not  the  same,  legitimate 
growth,  historical  development. 

"It  needs  but  little  knowledge  of  history  certainly,  to  see  that 
22 


346  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

Christianit}'  as  it  stood  in  the  fourth  century,  and  in  the  first  part 
of  the  fifth,  in  the  time  of  Jerome  and  Ambrose  and  Augustine,  in 
the  time  of  Chr3'Sostom,  Basil  and  the  Gregories  was  something 
ver}^  different  from  modern  Protestantism,  and  that  it  bore  in  truth 
a  A^erj'  near  resemblance  in  all  material  points  to  the  later  religion 
of  the  Roman  Church.  This  is  most  clear  of  course  as  regards  full 
Puritanism,  in  the  form  it  carries  in  New  England ;  but  it  is  equally 
true  in  fact  of  the  Anglican  system  also,  and  this  whether  we  take 
it  in  the  Low  Church  or  the  High  Church  view.  Episcopalians  are 
indeed  fond  of  making  a  great  distinction  between  the  first  four  or 
five  centuries  and  the  ages  that  follow;  telling  us  that  the  Early 
Church  thus  far  was  comparatively  pure;  that  the  Roman  apostacy 
came  in  afterwards,  marring  and  blotting  the  fair  face  which  things 
had  before;  and  that  the  English  Church  distinguished  itself  at  the 
Reformation  by  its  moderation  and  sound  critical  judgement,  in 
discriminating  here  properl}^  between  the  purit}'  of  the  primitive 
faith  and  its  subsequent  adulterations.  According  to  the  most 
churchl}'  view,  the  Reformation  was  for  Anglicanism  no  revolution 
properly  speaking  at  all,  but  the  simple  clearing  away  of  some  pre- 
vious abuses,  and  a  self-righting  of  the  English  Church,  as  a  whole, 
once  more  into  its  old  habit  and  course.  But  this  is  altogether  a 
most  tame  and  desperate  hypothesis.  The  boasted  discrimination 
of  the  English  Protestantism  vanishes  into  thin  air  the  moment  we 
'  come  to  inquire  into  its  actual  origin  and  rise.  Never  was  there 
a  great  movement,  in  which  accident,  caprice  and  mere  human  pas- 
sion more  clearl}'  prevailed  as  factors  over  the  forces  of  calm  judg- 
ment and  sound  reason. — The  main  feature  of  it  is  Episcopacy,  with 
a  King  at  the  head  of  it  instead  of  a  Pope.  In  virtue  of  this  con- 
stitution, and  some  few  peculiarities  besides,  Anglicanism  piques 
itself  on  being  a.  jure  divino  succession  of  the  old  English  branch 
■of  the  Church  Catholic,  while  for  want  of  such  accidents  other 
Protestant  bodies  have  no  right  to  put  in  any  similar  claim.  The 
■charm  lies  in  the  notion  of  the  Episcopate,  handed  down  by  out- 
ward succession,  as  a  sort  of  primary,  divinely  appointed  mark  and 
seal  of  the  True  Church. 

"But  what  would  such  men  as  Cyprian,  Ambrose,  or  Augustine, 
have  thought  of  the  glorification  of  the  Episcopate,  with  all  that 
maj'  go  along  with  it  in  the  English  system  besides,  in  any  such 
outward  style?  The\^  indeed  did  put  a  high  value  on  Episcopacy 
and  some  other  things  that  Anglicanism  contends  for;  but  only  as 
"these  interests  were  themselves  comprehended  in  what  they  held  to 
be  a  still  wider  and  deeper  system  of  truth. — For  in  truth  there  is 


ClIAP.  XXXI]  EARLY    CHRISTIANITY  34t 

no  return  here  to  anything  more  than  fragments  of  the  earl^'  system, 
even  in  the  de:id  view  now  mentioned.  It  is  as  pure  a  fiction  as 
ever  entei-ed  a  good  man's  head,  to  dream  as  Bishop  Wilson  does, 
that  this  favorite  scheme  of  Evangelical  Episcopalianism  prevailed 
in  the  fourth  centur}',  and  the  case  is  not  materially-  improved  b}^  sim- 
pl}^  changing  the  dream  into  an  Oxford  or  Tractarian  shape.  The 
whole  idea  of  a  marked  chasm  anywhere  about  the  fifth  century', 
dividing  an  older,  purer  style  of  Christianity  from  the  system  that 
meets  us  in  the  Middle  Ages,  much  as  English  Episcopac}^  stands 
related  to  the  papacj^,  is  no  better  than  a  chimera;  history  is  all 
against  it;  we  might  just  as  rationally  pretend  to  find  an}-  such 
dividing  in  the  eighth  or  in  the  tenth." — The  Grseco-Roman  Church, 
which  was  at  first  one,  became  in  the  course  of  time  more  Greek  on 
the  one  side  and  more  intensel}'  Roman  on  the  other;  and  the  re- 
sult was  the  great  schism  between  the  East  and  the  West. 

"  But  if  anything  in  the  world  can  be  said  to  be  historicall}-  clear, 
it  is  the  fact  that  with  the  close  of  the  fourth  centur^'-  and  the 
coming  in  of  the  fifth,  the  primacy  of  the  Roman  See  was  admitted 
and  acknowledged  in  all  parts  of  the  Christian  w-orld.  The  promise 
of  the  Saviour  to  Peter  is  always  acknowledged  by  the  fathers  in 
the  sense  that  he  was  to  be  the  centre  of  unit}^  for  the  Church,  and, 
in  the  language  of  Chrysostom,  to  have  the  presidency  of  it  through- 
out the  whole  earth.  Ambrose  and  Augustine  both  recognized  this 
of  Peter  over  and  over  again,  in  the  clearest  and  strongest  terms. 
To  be  joined  in  communion  with  the  See  of  Rome  was  in  the  view 
of  this  period  to  be  in  the  bosom  of  the  True  Church :  to  be  out  of 
this  communion  w^as  to  be  in  schism.  It  was  not  (it  was  thought — 
Ed.)  to  be  in  union  with  any  other  bishop  or  bod}-  of  bishops;  the 
sacrament  of  unity  was  held  to  be  a  force  only  as  having  regard  to 
the  Church  in  its  universal  character;  and  this  involved  necessarily 
the  idea  of  one  universal  centre,  which  by  general  consent  was  to 
be  found  only  in  Rome,  and  no  where  else. — And  the  whole  world 
apparently  regarded  the  primacy,  in  the  same  way,  as  a  matter  fully 
settled  and  established  in  the  constitution  of  the  Christian  Church. 
We  hear  of  no  olyection  to  it,  no  protest  against  it,  as  a  new  and 
daring  presumption,  or  as  a  departure  from  the  earlier  order  of 
Christianity. 

"  Tlie  idea  of  the  primacy  implies  of  course  the  Episcopacy,  but 
it  implies  also  a  great  deal  more.  At  the  ground  of  it  lies  also  the 
conception  of  a  truly  Divine  character,  belonging  to  the  Church  as 
a  whole,  and  not  to  be  separated  from  the  attributes  of  unity  and 
universality;  the  idea  of  the  Church,  thus  as  one,  holy  and  Cath- 


348  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

olic  ;  the  idea  of  an  actual  continuation  of  Christ's  presence  and 
power  in  the  Church,  according  to  the  terms  of  the  original  apos- 
tolic commission;  the  idea  of  sacramental  grace,  the  power  of  ab- 
solution, the  working  of  miracles  to  the  end  of  time  ;  and  a  real 
communion  of  saints  extending  to  the  departed  dead,  as  well  as  to 
those  still  living  on  the  earth.  It  is  perfectly  certain,  accordingly, 
that  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  all  these  and  other  naturally 
related  conceptions,  running  very  directly  into  the  Roman  corrup- 
tions as  the}^  are  called  of  a  later  period,  were  in  full  operation  and 
force;  and  this  in  no  sporadic  exceptional  or  accidental  way  merely, 
but  with  universal  authority  and  as  belonging  to  the  inmost  life 
and  substance  of  the  great  mystery  of  Christianity. — In  the  bosom 
of  this  S3'stem  stood,  not  outwardly  and  by  accident  only,  as  the 
true  I'epresentative  of  its  ver}^  soul  and  life,  such  men  as  Atha- 
nasius,  Chrysostom,  Basil  the  Great,  Cyril  of  Jerusalem,  Gregory 
of  Nazianzen  and  Gregory  of  Nyssa,  Ephraim  the  Syrian,  Hilar}- 
of  Poictiers,  Jerome,  Ambrose,  and  Augustine.  They  held  the 
fundamentals  certainly  of  the  Gospel ;  but  they  held  them  in  con- 
nection with  a  vast  deal  that  modern  Protestantism  is  in  the  habit 
of  denouncing  as  the  worst  "Roman  corruption,  and  what  is  most 
stumbling  of  all,  they  made  it  a  fundamental  point  to  hold  the  sup- 
posed better  parts  of  their  faith  just  in  this  bad  connection  and  no 
other.  The  piety  of  Ambrose  and  Augustine  is  steeped  in  what 
this  modern  school  sets  down  as  rank  heathenish  superstition.  The 
slightest  inspection  of  historical  documents  is  sufficient  to  convince 
an}-  unprejudiced  mind  of  this  fact. 

"  The  ground  here  then  taken  b}'  Bishop  Wilson,  and  by  the 
whole  Low  Church  or  No-Church  order,  still  bent  on  claiming  some 
sort  of  genealogical  affinity  with  the  order  and  piety  of  the  fourth 
and  fifth  centuries,  is  palpably  false.  But  how  is  it  with  Puse5-ism 
or  Anglicanism  in  the  high  view,  pretending  to  find  in  this  early 
period  its  own  pattern  of  Episcopacy,  as  distinguished  from  what 
it  conceives  to  be  those  latter  innovations  of  the  Paj^acy  which  it 
pompously  condemns  and  rejects.  Alas,  the  whole  theory  is  as 
brittle  as  glass,  and  falls  to  pieces  with  the  first  tap  of  the  critic's 
hammer. 

The  general  Puritan  hypothesis  of  Early  Christianity, in  the  first 
ages,  may  be  reduced  to  several  propositions : 

(1)  It  goes  OTi  the  supposition  that  it  started  in  the  beginning 
under  the  same /orm  substantiall}^  both  in  doctrine  and  practice, 
which  is  now  known  and  honored  as  Evangelical  Protestantism 
without  prelacy.     The  doctrine  was  orthodox  as  distinguished  from 


ClIAP.  XXXI]  EARLY    CHRISTIANITY  349 

all  heresies  that  are  at  war  with  the  doctrines  of  the  Trinity,  human 
depravit}'  and  the  atonement.  The  principle  of  the  Bible  and  pri- 
vate judgment  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  system. 

(2)  This  happy  state  of  things,  established  under  the  authority 
of  the  Apostles,  and  in  their  time  universally  present  in  the  churches, 
was  unfortunately  of  only  short  duration.  The  Chureh  started 
right  in  the  beginning,  but  when  it  comes  fullj'  into  view  again  in 
the  third  century,  it  is  found  to  be  strangely  wrong,  fiiirly  on  the 
tide  in  truth  of  the  prelatical  system  with  its  whole  sea  of  corrup- 
tions and  abominations.  Between  these  dates  then  there  must  be 
assumed  to  be  an  apostasy  or  fall,  somewhat  like  that  which  turned 
our  first  parents  out  of  paradise  into  the  common  world.  When  or 
how  the  doleful  change  took  place,  in  the  absence  of  all  reliable  his- 
torical evidence,  can  onl3^  be  made  out  b}'  conjecture ;  and  here 
naturally  the  theor}'  is  subject  in  different  hands  to  some  variations. 
The  Presbj'terian,  Congregational,  and  Baptistic  constructions  are 
not  just  the  same.  All,  however,  make  the  paradisiacal  period  of 
the  Church  very  short. 

(3)  The  change  thus  early  commenced  was  in  truth  in  full  oppo- 
sition to  the  original  sense  and  design  of  Christianity,  and  involved 
in  principle  from  the  start  the  grand  apostasy  that  afterwards  be- 
came complete  in  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  which  is  graphically 
foretold  in  those  passages  of  the  New  Testament  that  speak  of 
Antichrist,  the  Mjstical  Bab3don,  and  the  man  of  sin. — Thus  Chris- 
tianity went  out  in  a  dismal  eclipse,  with  only  a  few  tapers,  diml}- 
burning  here  and  there  in  valleys  and  corners,  to  keep  up  some 
faint  remembrance  of  that  glorious  da^^-spring  from  on  high  with 
which  it  had  visited  the  nations  in  the  beginning. 

(4)  The  long  night  of  this  fearful  captivit}'  came  to  an  end 
finally,  through  the  great  mercy  of  God,  b}'  the  event  of  the  Ref- 
ormation ;  which  was  brought  to  pass  by  the  diligent  stud}'  of  the 
Bible,  the  original  codex  of  Christianity^  under  the  awakening  and 
guiding  influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  consisted  simply  in  a  re- 
suscitation of  the  life  and  doctrine  of  the  primitive  Church,  which 
had  long  been  buried  beneath  the  corruptions  of  the  great  Roman 
apostasy.  The  Reformation,  in  this  view,  was  not  properly  the 
historical  product  and  continuation  under  another  form  of  the  life 
of  the  Church  itself,  or  what  was  called  the  Church,  as  it  stood 
before.  It  was  a  revolutionar}-  rebellion  rather  against  this  as 
something  totally  false  and  wrong,  b}'  which  it  was  violently  set 
aside  to  make  room  for  a  new  order  of  things  altogether. — Here, 
finally,  after  so  long  a  sleep,  the  fair  image  of  original  Christianity, 


350  AT   MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DlV.  IX 

as  it  once  gladdened  the  assemblies  of  the  faithful  in  the  da3's  of 
Ignatius,  Polycarp,  Irena?us,  and  the  blessed  mart3"rs  of  Lj'ons 
and  Yienne,  has  come  forth  as  it  were  from  the  catacombs,  to  put 
to  shame  that  frightful  mask  which  has  for  so  many  centuries  de- 
ceived the  world  in  its  name  and  stead. 

Such,  as  Dr.  Nevin  conceived,  was  the  Puritan  theory  of  the  past 
history  of  the  Church,  and  such  the  relation  in  which  it  imagines 
that  Protestantism  stands  to  Primitive  Christianity.  The  theor}^ 
and  the  fanc}'  he  believed  to  be  visionar}',  and  when  logically-  car- 
ried subversive  to  the  best  interests  of  Protestantism  itself.  The 
very  prodigiousness  of  such  an  hypothesis,  when  properly  consid- 
ered, ought  to  startle  its  holders  themselves.  Instead  of  being  nat- 
ural and  reasonable,  it  is  as  much  against  nature  and  reason  as  can 
well  be  conceived.  Ever3-  presumption  is  against  it.  Only  look  at 
the  scheme  in  its  own  light.  All  previous  history  looked  to  the 
coming  of  Christ,  and  prepared  the  way  for  it,  as  the  grand  central 
fact  of  religion  and  so  of  the  world's  life.  At  length  it  came,  the 
Fact  of  all  facts,  full  of  grace  and  truth,  heralded  by  angels,  sur- 
rounded with  miracles,  binding  earth  to  heaven,  and  laying  the 
foundations  of  a  new  creation  of  whose  splendors  and  glories  there 
should  be  no  end. — The  Gospel  was  rapidly  published  throughout 
the  Roman  world.  The  ascended  Redeemer,  at  the  right  hand  of 
God,  made  head  over  all  things  to  the  Church,  gave  proof  of  His 
exaltation  and  power  by  causing  His  Kingdom  to  spread  and  pre- 
vail, in  the  face  of  all  opposition,  whether  Jewish  or  Pagan.  The 
whole  course  of  things  seemed  to  show  clearly  that  the  powers  of  a 
higher  world  were  at  work  in  the  glorious  movement,  and  that  it  em- 
bodied in  itself  the  will  and  counsel  of  heaven  itself  for  the  full  ac- 
complishment of  the  end  towards  which  it  reached.  But,  according 
to  the  hypothesis  now  before  us,  the  very  opposite  of  this  took  place. 

"  The  eclipse  came  not  at  once  in  its  full  strength  ;  but  still  from 
the  very  start,  it  was  the  beginning  of  the  total  obscurity  that  fol- 
lowed, and  looked  to  this  steadily  as  its  end.  So  in  truth  Satan  in 
the  end  prevailed  over  Christ.  The  Church  fell,  not  partially  and 
transiently  onlj^,  but  universally  in  its  collective  and  corporate 
character,  with  an  apostasy  that  was  to  reach  through  twelve  hun- 
dred years. — But  will  any  sober-minded  man  pretend  to  say  that 
this,  in  itself  considered,  is  not  a  strange  and  unnatural  hypothesis, 
which  it  is  exceedingly  hard  to  reconcile,  either  with  the  divine 
origin  of  the  Church,  or  with  its  Divine  mission,  or  with  the  Divine 
presence  in  it  of  Him,  who  is  represented  as  having  the  govern- 
ment of  the  world  on  His  shoulders  for  its  defence  and  salvation  ? 


Chap.  XXXI]  early  Christianity  351 

"Even  under  the  Old  Testament,  it  was  a  standing  article  of 
faith,  that  the  theocracy  could  not  ft\il.  But  this  perpetuity  was 
itself  the  type  only  of  that  higher  and  better  state,  in  which  the 
Jewish  theocracy  was  to  become  complete  finally  as  the  New  Tes- 
tament Church.  Nothing  could  well  be  more  foreign  from  the  old 
Messianic  scheme  than  the  imagination  that  the  enlargement  of 
Jacob  b}'  the  coming  of  Shiloh,  was  to  give  place  almost  immedi- 
ately again  to  a  long  night  of  captivity  and  bondage  ten  times  worse 
than  that  of  Babylon,  from  which  there  was  to  be  no  escape  for 
more  than  a  thousand  years.  And  just  as  little  can  any  such  view 
be  reconciled  with  the  plan  of  Christianity,  as  it  meets  us  in  the 
New  Testament. — There  are,  it  is  true,  predictions  enough  of  trials, 
heresies,  apostasies  and  corruptions ;  but  the  idea  is  never  for  a 
moment  allowed,  that  these  should  prevail  in  any  such  universal 
way  as  the  theory  before  us  pretends.  On  the  contrary,  the  strong- 
est assurances  are  given  that  this  should  not  be  the  case, 

"It  is  ver}^  certain,  that  only  the  most  wilful  and  stubborn  pre- 
judice can  fail  to  see  how  utterly  at  war  the  Bible  is  with  the  notion 
of  a  quickly  apostatizing  and  totally  failing  Church,  in  an}'  view 
answerable  to  the  strange  hypothesis,  which  we  have  now  under 
consideration.  No  such  notion  accordingly  ever  entered  the  mind 
of  the  Primitive  Church  itself.  That  would  have  been  counted 
downright  infidelity.  The  promise  to  Peter  and  the  Apostolic 
commission  were  never  taken  in  but  one  sense ;  and  it  became  ac- 
cordingl}',  as  we  all  know,  an  element  of  the  primitive  faith,  an  ar- 
ticle of  the  early  creed,  to  believe  in  the  being  of  the  Hoh',  Catholic 
Church  as  an  indestructible  fact, a  divine  mjstery  that  could  never 
fail  or  pass  away. 

"Christianity  in  the  beginning  was  anything  but  a  passive  and 
inert  s^-stem,  which  offered  itself  like  wax  to  every  impression  from 
abroad.  It  had  a  most  intense  life  of  its  own,  a  power  to  assimilate 
and  reject  in  the  sea  of  elements  with  which  it  was  surrounded,  and 
the  force  of  self-conservation,  over  against  all  dissolving  agencies, 
as  never  any  system  of  thought  or  life  before  possessed.  It  is  just 
this  organific  and  all-subduing  character  that  forms  the  grand  argu- 
ment from  history  for  its  divine  origin  and  heavenly'  truth.  Nean- 
der  has  it  continually  in  view.  What  subtle  sjieculations  were 
not  tried  in  the  first  centuries  on  the  part  of  Gnostics,  Manicheans, 
Sabellians,  and  others  to  corrupt  the  truth;  and  yet  how  promptly 
and  vigorously  all  these  innovations  were  met  and  repelled. 

"  But  this  is  not  all.  The  prodigiousness  of  the  theory  goes  still 
farther.     What  authorit}'  was  it  that  fixed  the  sacred  canon,  de- 


352  AT   MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

termining  in  the  beginning  what  books  were  taken  to  be  inspired, 
and  what  other  boolvs,  not  a  few,  were  to  be  rejected  as  apocryphal 
or  false  ?  The  work  of  settling  the  canon  began  in  the  second  cen- 
tury, but  was  not  fully  completed  before  the  fourth;  and  then  it 
was  by  the  tradition  and  authority  of  the  Church  simply  that  the 
work,  regarded  through  all  this  time  as  one  and  the  same,  was 
brought  thus  to  its  final  consummation.  Is  it  not  strange,  that  we 
should  be  under  obligation  to  such  a  growing  mystery  of  iniquity 
for  so  excellent  and  holj'  a  gift,  and  that  coming  to  us  in  this  way 
we  can  still  be  sure  that  every  line  in  it  is  inspired,  so  as  to  make 
it  the  only  rule  of  our  faith? 

"Nor  does  the  wonder  stop  here.  These  ages  of  apostasy,  as 
they  are  here  considered,  were  at  the  same  time,  by  general  ac- 
knowledgment, ages  of  extraordinar}^  faith  and  power.  Miracles 
abounded.  Charity  had  no  limits.  Zeal  stopped  at  no  sacrifices, 
however  hard  or  great.  The  blood  of  martyrs  flowed  in  torrents. 
The  heroism  of  confessors  braved  every  danger.  Bishops  ruled  at 
the  peril  of  their  lives.  In  the  catalogue  of  Roman  Popes,  no  less 
than  thirty  before  the  time  of  Constantine,  that  is,  the  whole  list 
that  far  with  only  two  or  three  exceptions,  wear  the  crown  of  mar- 
tyrdom. Nor  was  this  zeal  outward  only,  the  fonaticism  of  a  name 
or  sect.  Along  with  it  burned,  as  we  have  seen  before,  a  glowing  in- 
terest in  the  tinith,  an  inextinguishable  ardor  in  maintaining  the 
faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints.  Heresies  quailed  before  its  pres- 
ence. Schisms  withered  under  its  blasting  rebuke.  Thus,  in  the 
midst  of  all  opposition,  it  went  forward  from  strength  to  strength, 
till  in  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  centur}^  finall}-  we  behold  it  fairly 
seated  on  the  throne  of  the  Ciie'sars.  And  this  outward  victory,  as 
Neander  will  tell  us,  was  only  a  faint  symbol  of  the  far  more  im- 
portant revolution  it  had  already  accomplished  in  the  empire  of 
human  thought,  the  interior  world  of  spirit.  Here  was  brought  to 
pass,  in  the  same  time,  a  true  creation  from  the  bosom  of  chaos, 
such  as  the  world  had  never  seen  before,  over  which  the  morning 
stars  sang  together  and  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy.  In  foun- 
dation or  principle,  at  least,  old  things,  whether  of  philosophy,  or 
of  art,  or  of  morality  and  social  life,  had  passed  awa}^,  and,  lo,  all 
things  had  become  new. 

"And  then  again  when  this  mystery  came  fully  out,  followed  as 
we  all  know  by  the  deep  night  of  the  Middle  Ages,  there  was  no 
end  to  the  moral  wonders  of  which  we  now  speak.  True,  the  world 
was  dark,  ver^^  dark  and  verj-  wild ;  and  its  corruptions  were  pow- 
erfully felt  at  times  in  the  bosom  of  the  Church  ;  but  no  one  will 


Chap.  XXXI]  early  Christianity  353 

pretend  to  make  this  barbarism  her  work,  or  lay  it  as  a  crime  to 
her  charge.  She  was  the  rock  that  beat  back  its  proud  waves.  She 
was  the  power  of  order  and  law,  the  fountain  of  a  new  civilization, 
in  the  midst  of  a  tumultuating  chaos.  Consider  the  entire  evan- 
gelization of  the  new  barbarous  Europe  under  the  papal  sj'Stem. 
Is  it  not  a  work  fairly  ])arnllol.  to  sa}-  the  least,  with  the  conquest 
of  the  old  Roman  Empire  in  the  first  ages? 

"The  theory  here  considered  is  false.  It  rests  on  no  historical 
bottom.  The  Scriptures  are  against  it.  All  sound  religious  feeling 
is  at  war  with  it.  Facts  of  every  sort  conspire  to  prove  it  untrue. 
It  is  a  sheer  hypothesis,  a  sort  of  a  Protestant  myth  we  may  call 
it,  got  up  to  serve  a  purpose,  and  hardened  by  time  and  tradition 
now  into  the  form  of  a  sacred  prejudice;  or  rather,  it  is  an  arbi- 
trary construction,  that  seeks  to  turn  into  a  myth  and  fable  the 
true  history  of  the  Church. — In  such  a  shape  it  may  be  possible 
still  to  believe  in  a  Holy  Catholic  Church,  which  was  from  the 
start  the  football  of  Satan.  But  in  the  same  waj'  it  is  possible  also 
to  believe  that  the  moon  is  made  of  green  cheese. 

"  The  best  and  most  sufficient  defence  against  the  Puritan  the- 
ory," sa3'S  Dr.  Xevin,  "is  simply  to  be  somewhat  imbued  with  the 
general  soul  of  the  Primitive  Church,  as  it  looks  forth  upon  us 
from  the  writings  of  Ignatius,  Justin  Martyr  and  Tertullian." 
Accordingly,  in  the  remainder  of  his  second  article,  he  proceeds 
to  show  how  the  Christianity  of  the  early  ages  differed  from  that 
represented  by  Dr.  Bacon  and  Bishop  Wilson.  This  difference  has 
reference, more  particularly, to  outwardform  or  manifestation.  How 
far  the  two  agreed  in  inward  substance  or  essence  he  does  not  pre- 
sume to  sa}'.  The  difference  in  the  latter  case  may  be  less  than 
what  m.ight  be  supposed,  as  true  Christianity  is  always  the  same 
under  the  most  diversified  forms.  Dr.  Nevin  had  his  eye,  as  we 
have  seen,  upon  a  modern  and  somewhat  exclusive  theory,  {^"d  his 
object  in  his  articles  on  Early  Christianity  was  to  show  that  it  was 
not  in  harmony  with  facts  or  the  truth  in  the  premises.  He  ac- 
cordingly proceeds  to  show  that  the  conception  of  the  Church,  of 
the  Ministry,  the  Holy  Sacraments,  the  Rule  of  Faith,  the  Order 
of  Doctrine  and  Miracles  as  held  by  the  early  Church  fathers,  was 
widely  diff'erent  from  that  which  is  maintained  at  the  present  day 
in  the  modern  Puritan  world.  What  these  conceptions  were,  as  he 
firmly  believed,  he  sought  to  set  forth  and  defend  in  his  other 
writings,  and  it  is  not  necessary  to  repeat  them  in  this  connection. 

In  his  third  and  last  article  on  Pearly  Christianity,  Dr.  Xevin 
went  on,  more  particularly  tluui  he  had  done  before,  to  bring  into 


354  AT   MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

view  the  practical  bearings  and  issues  of  the  whole  subject.  The 
positions,  he  says,  assumed  were  not  theological.  They  related  to 
questions  of  outward  fact,  to  be  settled  in  such  form  by  proper  testi- 
mon}'.  We  may  explain  them  as  we  please.  But  it  is  perfectl}"  idle 
to  dispute  them,  or  to  pretend  to  set  them  aside.  We  might  just  as 
well  quarrel  with  the  constitution  of  nature,  or  with  the  Copernican 
system.  The  fathers  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  were  not  Puri- 
tan nor  Protestant.  They  stood  in  the  bosom  of  the  Catholic  sys- 
tem, the  very  same  system  of  thought  that  completed  itself  in  the 
Roman  or  Papal  Church,  and  they  were  all  E-omanizers,  much 
more  so  than  any  Protestant  theologians  have  ever  been  from 
Hugo  Grotius  down  to  Dr.  Nevin.  The  strong  supposition  of  Dr. 
Newman  is  not  a  whit  too  strong  for  the  actual  character  of  the 
case.  If  Ambrose  or  Athanasius  should  visit  the  earth  with  their 
old  habit  of  mind,  neither  of  them  would  be  able,  at  least  not  at 
first,  to  feel  himself  at  home  in  any  of  our  Protestant  churches. 
Anglicans,  Low  Churchmen,  Presb3'terians,  Congregationalists, 
Methodists,  Baptists,  United  Brethren,  Quakers,  and  so  on  to  the 
end  of  the  chapter,  would  be  tempted  to  exclude  them  from  their 
communion,  or  take  them  in  at  best  as  mere  novices  and  babes  re- 
quiring to  be  taught  again  the  first  principles  of  the  doctrine  of 
Christ.  Meekly  submitting  to  such  instruction,  they  would  no 
doubt  rejoice  in  the  light,  liberty  and  freedom  conferred  on  the 
Evangelical  Church  by  Christ  Himself;  but  in  their  turn,  as  they 
grew  in  grace  and  knowledge,  with  their  old  faith  in  one  Holy 
Catholic  Church,  they  would  sternly  denounce  our  divisions  as  with 
the  A'oice  of  Christ,  and,  if  let  alone,  help  us  very  materially  in  heal- 
ing them. — How  then  are  the  facts  to  be  explained  ?  Every  person 
must  have  a  theory  of  some  kind  to  reconcile  apparent  contradic- 
tions or  incongruities,  and  the  only  question  is.  Which  is  the  best 
or  most  in  harmony  with  history  and  the  Scriptures  ? 

"Mr.  Isaac  Taylor  in  his  able  and  learned  work  on  'Ancient 
Christianity '  has  made  a  valuable  contribution  to  the  solution  of 
the  vexed  question  of  church  history  here  concerned.  With  much 
learning  he  has  undoubtedly  been  successful  in  proving,  that  it  is 
an  entire  mistake  to  imagine  anything  like  the  counterpart  of 
Anglican  Protestantism  as  having  existed  in  the  fourth  century, 
and  that,  in  very  truth,  what  are  usually  considered  the  worst  abuses 
of  Romanism  were  already-  full}^  at  work  in  this  period;  nay,  that 
in  many  respects,  the  form  under  which  they  appeared  was  decidedl}^ 
worse  than  that  which  they  carried  subsequently  in  the  Middle 
Ages.     This  testimony,  the  result  of  a  very  full  and  laborious  per- 


Chap.  XXXI]  early  Christianity  355 

sonal  examination  of  the  writings  of  tlie  earl^-  fathers  themselves, 
is  supported  throughout  with  a  weight  of  authorities  and  examples 
that  a  man  must  I)e  very  rash  indeed  to  think  of  setting  aside.  The 
evidence  is  absolutely  overwhelming,  that  the  Xicene  Church  was 
in  all  essential  points  of  one  mind  and  character  with  the  Papal 
Church  of  later  times,  and  that  where  anv  difference  is  to  be  found, 
it  was  for  the  most  part  not  in  favor  of  the  first,  but  rather  against 
it,  and  in  favor  of  this  last. 

"  So  much  for  the  Nicene  Age,  according  to  the  judgment  of  this 
learned  author.  But  he  does  not  confine  his  view  to  this  period. 
His  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  histor}'  could  not  permit  him  to  doubt 
its  organic  unit}'  with  the  life  of  the  period  that  went  before;  and 
his  actual  study  of  that  earlier  age  has  been  of  a  kind  to  place  this 
reasonable  conclusion  beyond  all  question. — He  confirms  in  full, 
accordingl}',  the  general  statement  we  have  alread}-  made  in  rela- 
tion to  the  Christianity  of  the  second  and  third  centuries.  The 
fourth  centur}^  was  a  true  continuation  of  the  ecclesiastical  forms 
and  views  of  the  third ;  and  this  again  grew,  bv  natural  and  legiti- 
mate birth,  out  of  the  bosom  of  the  second.  As  far  back  as  our 
historical  notices  reach,  we  find  no  trace  this  side  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment of  an}'  church  system  at  all  answering  to  any  Puritan  scheme 
of  the  present  time;  no  room  or  space,  however  small,  in  which  to 
locate  the  hypothesis  even  of  any  such  scheme;  but  very  sufficient 
proof  rather  that  the  prevailing  habit  of  thought  looked  all  quite 
another  way,  and  that  in  principle  and  tendency  at  least  the  infant 
church  was  carried  from  the  very  start  towards  the  order  of  the 
third  and  fourth  centuries,  and  through  this,  we  may  say,  towards 
mediieval  Catholicism  in  which  that  older  system  finally  became 
complete. — In  those  times  there  were  some  true  Protestants,  as 
Neander  styles  them;  they  were  suppressed  whenever  they  pro- 
tested or  seemed  to  be  likely  to  increase  in  number.  The  most 
eminent  of  these  worthy  opposers  of  the  reigning  superstitions  was 
Jovinian,  an  Italian  monk,  in  the  fourth  century,  who  taught  his 
peoi)le  that  they  could  be  just  as  acceptable  Christians  in  the  sight 
of  God  as  those  who  passed  their  days  in  unsociable  celibacy  or 
severe  mortifications  and  fastings.  He  had  many  followers,  but  he 
was  condemned  by  the  Church  in  the  year  390  and  then  banished 
by  the  State. 

"The  general  truth  is  clear.  Protestantism  and  Early  Chris- 
tianity are  not  the  same.  Let  it  be  observed,  we  speak  not  now 
of  Early  Christianity,  as  it  may  be  sui)posed  to  have  been  in  the 
age  of  the  Apostles,  but  of  its  manifestation  in  the  period  following 


356  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

that  age,  as  far  Tback  as  our  historical  data  reach  on  this  side  of  the 
New  Testament.  We  speak  not  of  what  it  might  have  been  before 
the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  or  for  a  short  time  afterwards,  in  the 
first  century;  but  of  what  it  is  found  to  have  been,  as  a  fact  of 
history,  in  the  second  as  well  as  in  the  third  and  fourth  centuries. 
Let  it  also  be  again  observed  that  we  speak  now  not  of  inward  es- 
sence but  of  oidwar'd  form.  There  ma}'  be  a  wide  difference  in  the 
latter  view,  when  a  real  sameness  has  place  after  all  under  the  for- 
mer view.  All  we  sa}'  is,  that  Protestantism  outwardly  considered 
does  not  agree,  in  its  general  constitution  and  form,  with  what  we 
find  Cliristianity  to  have  been  after  the  time  of  the  New  Testament, 
as  far  back  as  the  middle  of  the  second  as  well  as  in  the  fourth  and 
third  centuries. 

"We  are  sorr}^  to  find  that  Mr.  Isaac  Ta^dor,  with  all  his  learn- 
ing and  good  sense,  is  not  able  to  clear  himself  of  this  false  and 
untenable  ground,  in  his  controversy  with  the  Oxford  theolog3^ 
He  sets  out  indeed  with  what  might  seem  to  be  a  very  strong  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  dependence  of  the  Modern  Church  upon  that 
of  antiquit3^  But  the  only  use  he  sees  proper  to  make  of  ecclesi- 
astical historj'  after  all  is  such  as  is  made  of  the  testimony  of  a 
common  witness  in  a  court  of  law.  The  voice  of  the  Church  is  to 
him  only  as  the  voice  of  the  profane  world,  the  authority  of  the 
fathers  of  one  and  the  same  order  with  the  authoritj'  of  Tacitus  or 
Pliny.  Antiquity-  may  help  us  to  the  knowledge  of  some  facts,  but 
nothing  more;  to  sit  in  judgment  on  the  facts,  to  make  out  their 
true  value,  to  accept  them  as  grains  of  gold  or  reject  them  as  heaps 
of  trash,  is  the  high  prerogative  of  modern  reason,  acting  in  the 
triple  office  of  law3'er,  juryman,  and  judge.  The  rule  or  standard 
of  judgment  is  indeed  professedly  the  Bible,  God's  infallible  word  ; 
but  the  tribunal  for  interpreting  and  applying  it,  the  highest  and 
last  resort,  therefore,  in  all  cases  of  controversy  and  appeal,  is  al- 
ways the  mind  of  the  present  age  as  distinguished  from  that  of 
every  age  that  has  gone  before.  Mr.  Taylor's  stand-point  is  com- 
pletel}^  subjective.  But  that  is  not  the  right  position  for  doing  jus- 
tice to  any  history;  and  least  of  all,  for  doing  justice  to  the  his- 
tory of  God's  Church.  For  if  the  Church  be  what  it  professed  to 
be  at  the  start,  and  what  it  is  acknowledged  by  the  whole  Christian 
M'orld  to  be  in  the  Creed,  it  is  a  supernatural  constitution,  and  in 
such  view  it  must  have  a  supernatural  history.  A  divine  Church, 
with  a  purely  human  history,  is  a  contradiction  in  terms.  In  any 
such  view,  however,  it  is  something  fairly  monstrous  to  think  of 
turning  the  whole  process  into  the  play  of  simply  human  factors, 


Chap.  XXXI J  early  Christianity  357 

and  then  requiring  it  to  bend  ever^'where  to  the  measure  of  our 
modern  judgment.  But  this  is  precisely  what  Mr.  Isaac  Taylor 
allows  himself  to  do.  With  the  Bible  in  his  hands,  he  finds  it  a 
most  easy  and  reasonable  thing  to  rule  out  of  court  the  universal 
voice  of  the  Church,  from  the  second  centur}-,  if  need  be,  to  the 
sixteenth,  whenever  it  refuses  to  chime  in  with  his  own  mind.  In 
this  way  he  falls  in  fact  into  the  theory  and  method  of  Puritan- 
ism, under  the  most  perfectly  arbitrary  form.  Protestantism  in 
his  hands  ceases  to  be  historical  altogether,  and  stands  forward  in 
direct  antagonism  to  the  life  of  the  earl}'  Church.  The  relation 
between  the  two  systems  is  made  to  be  one  of  violent  contradic- 
tion and  opposition.  To  make  good  the  modern  cause,  antiquity 
is  presented  to  us  under  attributes  that  destroy  its  whole  title  to 
our  confidence  and  respect. 

"Our  brethren  of  the  early  Church,"  Mr.  Taylor  himself  tells  us, 
"challenge  our  respect  as  well  as  our  aflfection;  theirs  was  the  fer- 
vor of  a  stead\-  foith  in  things  unseen  and  eternal;  theirs  often  a 
meek  patience  and  humility,  under  the  most  grievous  wrongs ;  theirs 
the  courage  to  maintain  a  good  profession  before  the  frowning  face 
of  philosophy,  of  secular  tyranny,  and  of  splendid  superstition; 
theirs  was  abstractness  from  the  world  and  a  painful  self-denial; 
theirs  the  most  arduous  and  costly  labors  of  love;  theirs  a  munifi- 
cence in  charity,  altogether  without  example;  theirs  was  a  reverent 
and  scrupulous  care  of  the  sacred  writings;  and  this  merit,  if  they 
had  had  no  other,  is  of  a  superlative  degree,  and  should  entitle  them 
to  the  veneration  and  grateful  regard  of  the  modern  Church.  How 
little  do  man}'  readers  of  the  Bible,  now-a-daj's,  think  of  what  it 
cost  the  Christians  of  the  second  and  third  centuries,  merely  to 
rescue  and  hide  the  sacred  treasure  from  the  rage  of  the  heathen?" 

"  This  is  a  beautiful  and  bright  picture,"  as  Dr.  Nevin  remarks. 
"  But,  alas,  the  historical  analysis  that  follows  turns  it  all  into 
shame.  Nothing  can  be  more  gloomy  and  oppressive  to  a  trul}' 
Christian  mind,  than  the  light  in  which  the  fathers  of  these  first 
centuries,  together  with  the  theology  and  piety  of  the  Ancient 
Church  generally,  are  made  to  show  themselves  beneath  the  pencil 
of  this  brilliant  writer.  False  principles  came  in  from  the  start, 
not  affecting  simpl}'  the  surface  of  the  new  religion,  but  carrying 
the  poison  of  death  into  its  ver^-  heart.  Gnosticism,  though  resist- 
ed and  conquered  on  tlie  outside  of  the  Church,  had  a  full  triumph 
within,  and  out  of  it  grew  the  ascetic  system,  false  A'iews  of  marriage, 
the  glorification  of  virginity,  monasticism,  and  all  kindred  views. 
The  celibate  corrupted  the  whole  scheme  of  theology.    Christianity 


358  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

itself  is  opposed  to  the  Orientul  theosophy,  proceeding  on  a  differ- 
ent \\ew  of  the  world;  and  it  vanquished  this  eneni}'  in  fact.  But 
onl}',  we  are  told,  to  take  it  again  into  its  own  bosom.  '  The  Cath- 
olic Church,'  we  are  informed  by  Mr.  Taylor,  'opposed  substantial 
truths  to  these  baseless  and  malignant  speculations ;  and  triumphed ; 
but  alas,  it  fell  in  triumphing.'  Gnosticism  thus  infused  its  own 
Antichristian  soul  into  the  entire  s^'stem  of  the  Nicene  theology. 
Parallel  with  this  doctrinal  corruption  ran  a  corresponding  corrup- 
tion of  the  whole  life  of  religion — practicall}"  considered. — But  with 
such  a  view  of  the  theology  and  life  of  the  fourth  century,  Mr.  Tay- 
lor finds  it  natural  and  easy  to  charge  the  system  with  the  universal 
decay  of  morals,  that  marked  the  last  stage  of  the  old  Roman  civil- 
ization. All  came  by  necessary  derivation  from  the  'church  prin- 
ciples' of  the  third  and  fourth  centuries.  The  cause,  which  Christ 
had  founded  for  the  salvation  of  the  world,  proved  in  the  end  like 
the  breath  of  a  Sirocco,  sweeping  it  with  an  unmeasurable  curse. 

"  This  may  suffice  for  our  present  purpose,  which  is  not  to  dis- 
cuss directly  the  merits  of  our  author's  position,  but  simplj-  to  set 
them  in  contrast  with  the  other  side  of  his  own  picture  of  this 
same  Ancient  Christianity,  in  argument  and  proof  of  the  perfectly 
unhistorical  character  of  his  general  scheme.  A  man  may  say 
what  he  pleases  about  the  glories  of  the  Early  Church,  Christ's 
presence  in  it,  and  its  victories  over  error  and  sin ;  but  if  he  couple 
with  it  the  idea  of  such  wholesale  falsehood  and  corruption  as  is 
here  laid  to  its  charge,  all  this  praise  is  made  absolutel}^  void. 
The  two  thoughts  refuse  to  stand  together.  One  necessarily  ex- 
cludes the  other.  Common  history  will  not  endure  any  such  gross 
contradiction.  But  still  less  can  it  be  reconciled  with  any  faith  in 
the  history  of  the  Church,  as  a  supernatural  order. 

"We  have  spoken  before  of  Thiersch's  'Lectures  on  Catholicism 
and  Protestantism.'  They  abound  in  original  and  fresh  thought, 
pervaded  throughout  with  a  tone  of  the  most  earnest  piety,  though 
not  altogether  free  at  times  from  the  excesses  of  an  erratic  fancy. 
The  Church,  he  thinks,  has  passed  through  four  great  metamorphoses 
alread3',in  coming  to  its  present  condition.  First  we  have  it  under 
its  Old  Catholic  form,  as  it  .existed  between  the  age  of  the  Apostles 
and  the  time  of  Constantine.  Then  it  appears  as  the  Imperial 
(Grjeco-Roman)  Church  in  close  connection  with  the  State,  and 
undergoing  many  changes  and  corruptions.  Next  it  becomes  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Last  of  all  it  stands 
before  us  as  the  Protestant  Church.  This  was  called  forth,  Avith  a 
sort   of  inward  neeessit}^  by  the  corruption  and  abuses   of  the 


CUAP.  XXXI]  EARLY    CHRISTIANITY  359 

Roman  S3'stem ;  and  it  has  its  full  justification  in  the  actual  relig- 
ious benefits  it  has  conferred  upon  the  world  ;  benefits  that  may 
be  said  to  show  themselves  even  in  the  improved  character  of 
Romanism  itself.  Still  it  is  but  too  plain,  that  Protestantism  is 
not  the  full  successful  solution  of  the  problem  of  Christianity.  It 
has  not  fulfilled  the  promise  of  its  own  beginning;  and  it  carries  in 
it  no  pledge  now  of  any  true  religious  millenium  in  time  to  come. 
Evils  of  tremendous  character  are  lodged  within  its  bosom.  A 
reign  of  rationalism  and  unbelief  has  sprung  out  of  it,  for  which 
the  present  course  of  things,  in  the  view  of  Thiersch,  offers  no 
prospect  of  recovery  or  help. — The  history  of  the  Church  is  with 
him  a  grand  and  complicated  process.  Exposed  to  powerful  cor- 
ruptions, and  yet  moving  onward  alwa3-s  towards  the  full  consum- 
mation of  its  own  original  sense  ;  which,  however,  is  not  to  be 
reached  without  the  intervention  of  a  new  snjjernatural  apoi<(oIafe, 
in  all  respects  parallel  with  that  which  was  emplo^-ed  for  the  first 
establishment  of  Christianity  in  the  beginning. — The  self-sufficiency 
of  both  Protestant  and  Roman  Catholic  systems  must  come  to  an 
end,  before  room  can  be  made  for  that  higher  state  of  the  Church, 
which  God  ma}-  be  expected  then  to  bring  in  by  a  miraculous  dia- 
pensation,  restoring  all  things  to  their  proper  form." 

Dr.  Nevin  was  free  to  acknowledge  the  force  of  Thiersch's  words, 
but  he  believed  too  flrml}-  in  histor}-  and  its  laws  to  give  much  heed 
to  the  "  fanc}' "  of  the  amiable  professor  at  the  old  Reformed  Uni- 
versit}'  at  Marburg  with  his  Irvingite  tendencies.  He  accordingly 
pays  more  attention  to  a  theory  of  the  Church,  maintained  b}-  Pro- 
fessor Rothe  of  Heidelberg  University.  His  speculative  construc- 
tion of  Christianity  in  its  relation  to  nature  and  humanity  were 
brought  out,  more  fully  and  with  un[)aralleled  architectonic  power, 
in  his  Thcolofjical  Ethics.  The  conclusion  arrived  at  by  this  gigantic 
thinker  was  that  the  Church  is  destined  to  be  absorbed  by  the  State, 
and  as  such  is  destined  to  pass  awa}-.  This  is  a  simple  solution  of 
the  great  problem,  upheld  with  much  ability-  also  in  his  ^'Anfxvge 
der  Christlichen  Kirche;^^  but  it  shocked  the  Evangelical  con- 
sciousness of  orthodox  Germany- ;  and  is  referred  to,  with  high  re- 
gard for  the  author,  by  Dr.  Xevin  as  an  honest  effort  on  the  part 
of  a  great  philosopher  and  theologian  to  throw  light  on  the  great 
question  of  the  day. 

"  Rothe's  error,  we  think,  lies  in  the  assumption  that  the  economy 
of  the  world,  naturally  considered,  must  be  regarded  as  carrying  in 
itself  all  the  necessar}-  elements  and  conditions  of  a  perfect  human- 
ity.   A  scientific  apprehension  of  what  the  world  is,  as  an  historical 


360  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DlV.  IX 

process,  or  cosmos,  would  seem  indeed  to  require  that  it  should  not 
be  defeated  in  its  highest  end,  the  glorification  of  humanity,  by  the 
disorder  of  sin — that  with  reference  to  this  it  should  not  turn  out 
a  hopeless  failure,  an  irrecoverable  wreck,  from  which  man  must  be 
extricated  by  an  act  of  sheer  power  for  the  accomplishment  of  his 
salvation  somewhere  else.  But  we  have  no  right  to  assume  in  this 
way,  that  the  proper  sense  of  the  world  in  its  natural  order  lies 
wholly  in  itself  as  an  independent  and  separate  system.  The  over- 
shadowing embrace  of  a  higher  economy — the  absolutely  supernat- 
ural— we  must  believe  rather  to  have  been  needed  from  the  first 
to  complete  its  process  in  the  life  of  man.  In  such  view,  redemption 
is  more  than  the  carrjing  out  of  the  natural  order  of  the  world  to 
any  merely  natural  end;  and  the  Church,  as  the  mediator  of  its 
work,  is  more  than  a  provisionary  institute  simpl}-  for  perfecting 
the  scheme  of  the  State,  the  highest  form  of  man's  life  on  the  basis 
of  nature  as  it  now  stands.  The  true  destination  of  this  lies  be- 
yond the  present  economy  of  nature  in  the  sphere  of  the  supernat- 
ural, in  an  order  of  things  that  fairlj^  outleaps  and  transcends  the 
whole  system  out  of  which  grows  the  constitution  of  political  king- 
doms and  States.  In  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  the  last  and  most 
perfect  form  of  humanit}',  as  'the}'  neither  marry  nor  are  giA'en  in 
marriage,'  so  also  there  will  be  neither  Greek  nor  Jew ;  but  the 
whole  idea  of  nationality  is  to  be  taken  up,  as  it  would  appear,  into 
a  far  higher  and  wider  conception,  rooted  not  in  nature  but  in 
grace.  The  Church  will  not  lose  itself  in  the  State;  it  will  be  the 
State  rather  that  shall  be  found  then  to  have  vanished  in  the 
Church. — The  whole  theory,  with  all  our  respect  for  Rothe,  we  of 
course  repudiate  as  unsound  and  false.  How  could  the  Church  be 
an  object  of  faith,  that  is,  a  supernatural  m^^stery  of  like  order  with 
the  other  articles  of  the  Creed,  if  it  were  after  all  any  such  pro- 
visional and  transitory  fact,  designed  to  pass  away  finally  in  another 
conception  altogether?  We  might  just  as  well  resolve  the  resur- 
rection of  the  body,  with  H3'meneus  and  Philetus,  into  the  idea  of 
a  new  moral  life  begun  in  the  present  life.  It  will  not  do  to  defend 
Protestantism  b}^  surrendering  Christianity.  We  are  not  willing 
to  give  up  for  it  either  history  or  the  Creed. 

"  If  Protestantism  then  is  to  be  defended  successfull}'  (theoret- 
ically of  course. — Ed.),  it  can  be  neither  on  the  ground  that  it  is  a 
repristination  simply  of  early  post-apostolical  Christianity,  nor  on 
the  ground  that  it  is  an  absolute  nullification  of  this  ancient  faith, 
leaping  over  it  with  a  single  bound  to  the  age  of  the  Apostles. 

"  We  are  thus  shut  up  to  the  idea  of  historical  develojjment,  as 


ClIAP,  XXXI]  EARLY   CHRISTIANITY  361 

the  only  possible  way  of  escape  from  the  diflicult^'  with  which  we 
are  met  in  bringing  the  present  here  into  comparison  with  the  past. 
If  the  Modern  Church  must  be  the  same  in  substance  or  being  with 
the  Ancient  Church,  a  true  CQntinuation  of  its  life  as  this  has  been 
in  the  world  by  divine  promise  from  the  beginning,  while  it  is  per- 
fectly plain,  at  the  same  time,  that  a  wide  difference  holds  between 
the  two  systems  as  to  form,  the  relation  binding  them  together  can 
onl}-  be  one  of  living  progress  or  growth.  No  other  will  satisfy 
these  outward  conditions.  Growth  implies  unity  in  the  midst  of 
change.  That  precisely  is  what  we  are  to  understand  by  historical 
development. 

"Some  pretend  to  identify  this  doctrine  of  development  with  the 
system  of  Romanism  itself,  as  though  the  only  occasion  for  it  were 
found  in  the  variations  through  which  it  is  supposed  to  have  passed 
in  reaching  its  present  form.  Mr.  Xewman,  it  is  well  known,  has 
tried  to  turn  the  idea  to  account,  in  this  way,  in  his  memorable 
"Essaj'on  the  Development  of  Christian  Doctrine.'  The  anthor 
holds  Christianity  to  be  an  objective  fact  in  the  world,  that  must 
be  throughout  identical  with  itself.  Still  that  it  has  undergone 
serious  modifications  in  its  outward  form  and  aspect,  he  considers 
to  be  no  less  certain  and  clear.  To  reconcile  this  semblance  of 
discrepancy  then,  he  has  recourse  to  what  he  calls  the  theory  of 
developments.  The  whole  theory',  however,  has  been  condemned 
b^'  other  Romanists,  as  being  at  war  with  the  true  genius  of  the 
Catholic  religion.  Mr.  Brownson  set  himself  in  opposition  to  it 
from  the  start.  Catholicism,  as  he  will  have  it,  has  known  no 
change.  It  is  only  Protestantism,  that  needs  any  '  such  law  of  de- 
velopment '  to  account  for  its  changes ;  and  to  Protestantism 
alone,  accordingly,  the  whole  theor}'  legitimateh'  and  of  right 
belongs. 

"Be  this  as  it  may.  Protestantism,  at  all  events,  is  still  less  able 
to  get  along  without  the  help  of  some  such  theor}-  than  Romanism. . 
This  is  now  felt  by  all,  who  deserve  to  be  considered  of  an^-  au- 
thority in  the  sphere  of  Church  History-.  The  whole  progress  of  this 
science  at  the  present  time,  under  the  new  impulse  which  has  been 
given  to  it  by  Neander  and  others,  is  making  it  more  and  more 
ridiculous  to  think  of  upholding  the  Reformation  under  an^-  other, 
view. 

"Those  who  wish  to  see  this  subject  ably  and  ha[)i)ily  liniidled 
are  referred  to  Professor  Schaff's   Principle  of  Protestantism,  the 
special  object  of  which  is  to  exhibit  and  ilefond  the  idea  of  histor- 
ical devel()i)nient  in  its  application  to  the  Protestant  movement. — 
28 


362  AT    MEROERSBURG   FROM    1S41-1853  [DiV.  IX 

Dr.  Scliaff  had  entered  too  far  into  the  modern  sense  of  history 
and  of  the  proper  idea  of  the  Chnrch,  to  be  satisfied  with  any  such 
poor  and  superficial  habit  of  thought.  He  saw  the  absolute  neces- 
sity of  showing  Protestantism  to  be  historical,  in  the  full  modern 
force  of  this  most  significant  term,  for  the  purpose  of  vindicating 
its  right  to  exist ;  and  his  work  accordingly  is  a  most  honorable 
and  vigorous  attempt  to  defend  it  on  this  ground.  We  have  said 
before,  what  we  now  deliberatel}^  repeat,  that  it  is  the  best  apology 
for  the  cause  of  the  Reformation  which  has  yet  appeared  in  this 
country.  However  it  may  be  as  it  regards  details,  the  argument 
in  its  main  course  and  scheme  ma}'  be  considered  identical  now 
with  the  very  life  of  Protestantism.  It  is  approved  and  endorsed 
in  such  view,  we  may  say,  by  the  whole  weight  of  German  theolog- 
ical science,  as  it  appears  in  its  best  representatives  at  the  present 
time. 

"  Protestantism  in  this  treatise  is  no  repudiation  of  Ancient  Chris- 
tianity, nor  of  the  proper  religious  life  of  the  Middle  Ages.  It 
owes  its  being  to  the  old  life,  which  was  engaged  for  centuries  be- 
fore with  its  painful  parturition.  Here  is  the  idea  of  historical 
development.  But  the  theory  goes  farther.  Protestantism,  the 
favorite  child  of  Catholicism,  is  not  itself  the  full  realization  of 
the  true  idea  of  Christianity.  As  it  was  not  the  first  form  of 
Christianity,  so  neither  may  it  be  considered  the  last.  It  is  itself 
a  process  of  transition  onl}^  towards  a  higher  and  better  state  of 
the  Church  which  is  still  future  though  probabW  now  near  at  hand, 
and  the  coming  in  of  which  may  be  expected  to  form  an  ejDOch  in 
history  quite  as  great  at  least  as  that  of  the  Reformation  itself. 
The  result  of  this  new  development  will  l)e  the  recovery  of  Prot- 
estantism itself  from  the  evils  under  which  it  now  suffers,  and  in 
this  way  its  full  and  final  vindication  by  the  judgment  of  history. 
It  will,  however,  at  the  same  time,  be  a  vindication  of  Catholicism, 
also,  as  having  been  of  true  historical  necessit}^  in  its  day  for  the 
full  working  out  of  the  problem,  which  shall  thus  at  last  be  con- 
ducted to  its  own  glorious  solution.  Such,  we  say,  is  the  theory 
of  historical  development^  as  we  have  it  applied  in  this  interesting 
and  able  Tract  to  the  great  question  here  brought  into  view ;  the 
question,  namely,  how  Protestantism  is  to  be  set  in  harmony  with 
the  past  history  of  the  Church,  and  with  its  true  ideal  as  the  King- 
dom of  God,  a  supernatural  polity-  of  truth  and  righteousness 
among  men. 

"  The  German  idea  of  development,  as  we  may  call  it,  is  not  the 
same  with  that  presented  to  us  by  Dr.  Xewraan,  in  which  every- 


ClIAP.  XXXI]  EARLY    CHRISTIANITY  363 

thing  moves  in  the  line  of  Catliolicism  onl}',  without  the  possibility 
of  growing  into  an3-thing  like  I'rotestantism.  The  former  theory, 
however,  does  so,  in  the  most  emphatic  manner.  Its  idea  of  growth 
is  that  of  a  process  carried  forward,  by  the  action  of  different 
forces,  working  separately  to  some  extent,  and  so  it  may  be  even 
one-sidedly  and  contradictorily  for  a  time,  towards  a  concrete  re- 
sult, representing  in  full  unity  at  last  the  true  meaning  and  power 
of  the  whole.  Each  part  of  the  entire  jjrocess  then  is  regarded  as 
necessary  and  right  in  its  own  order  and  time;  but  still  only  as 
relativehj  right,  and  as  having  need  thus  to  complete  itself  by  pass- 
ing ultimately  into  a  higher  form.  Catholicism  in  this  view  is  justi- 
fied as  a  true  and  legitimate  movement  of  the  Church;  but  it  is 
taken  to  have  been  the  explication  of  one  side  of  Christianity 
mainly,  rather  than  a  full  and  proper  representation  of  the  fact  as 
a  whole ;  a  process  thus  that  naturally  became  excessive,  and  so 
wrong  in  its  own  direction,  preparing  the  way  for  a  powerful  re- 
action finall}'  in  the  wrong  direction. 

This  reaction  we  have  in  Protestantism ;  which  in  such  view 
springs  from  the  old  Church,  not  just  hy  a  uniform  process,  but 
with  a  certain  measure  of  violence,  while  yet  it  is  found  to  be 
the  product,  reall}'  and  trul}',  of  its  deeper  life.  Here  again, 
however,  as  before,  the  first  result  is  onl^^  relativel}'^  good.  The 
new  tendenc3'  has  become  itself  one-sided,  exorbitant,  and  full  of 
wrong.  Hence  the  need  of  still  another  crisis,  the  signs  of  whose 
advent  man}'  seem  already  to  see,  which  maj-  arrest  and  correct 
this  abuse,  and  open  the  Avay  for  a  higher  and  better  state  of  the 
Church,  in  which  both  of  these  tendencies  shall  be  brought  at 
length  happily  to  unite,  revealing  to  the  world  the  full  sense  of 
Christianity  in  a  form  now  absolute  and  complete. — Such  is  the 
course  of  history.  Throughout  it  is  made  up  of  antagonisms,  which 
become  intense  in  proportion  to  the  truth  they  embod}-.  When 
their  vitalit}'  is  exhausted,  neither  can  be  said  to  have  gained  an  ab- 
solute victory.     Afterwards  the}'  live  in  peace  in  some  higher  life. 

"  For  a  truly  learned  representation  of  this  whole  view,  in  its  re- 
lations to  other  older  schemes  of  ecclesiastical  histor}',  for  there 
has  been  a  remarkable  exemplification  of  the  law  of  development  in 
the  progress  of  this  science  itself,  we  beg  leave  to  refer  our  readers 
to  Professor  Schaff's  tract  entitled.  What  in  Church.  HiMory  ?  They 
will  find  it  well  worthy  of  their  most  careful  and  diligent  perusal." 

Dr.  Xeviri  concluded  his  three  articles  on  Early  Christianity, 
covering  133  pages  .of  the  7?^^f<('(r,  with  sundry  practical  lessons.^ 
expressed  or  implied,  in  what,  with  much  argumentative   power, 


364  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

he  had  already  written.  "  Protestantism,  as  it  now  stands,  was 
not  intended  to  be  a  permanently  abiding  order  of  things,  bnt  to 
prepare  the  way  for  a  far  more  perfect  state  of  the  Church,  in  which 
its  present  disorders  and  misery  shall  finally  be  brought  to  an  end. 
But  this  new  order  in  which  it  is  to  become  complete  cannot  be 
reached  without  the  co-operation  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church. 
However  faulty  this  may  be  in  its  separate  character,  it  still  em- 
bodies in  itself  nevertheless  certain  principles  and  forms  of  life, 
derived  from  the  past  history  of  the  Church,  which  are  wanting  in 
Protestantism  as  it  now  stands,  and  which  need  to  be  incorpo- 
rated with  it  in  some  wa}"  as  the  proper  and  necessary  complements 
of  its  own  nature.  The  interest  of  Romanism  is  not  to  be  so  left 
behind  as  to  be  no  longer  of  any  account ;  and  it  must  therefore 
come  in  hereafter  in  some  way  to  counterbalance  and  correct  again 
the  disorder  and  excess  of  the  other  system." 

It  may  be  supposed  that  the  principal  succession  of  the  proper 
life  of  the  Church  lies  in  the  Roman  Catholic  communion ;  or  it 
may  be  taken  for  granted  that  Protestantism  is  to  become  the 
grand  reigning  stream  of  Christianity,  although  not  by  any  means 
the  whole  of  it,  into  which  finally  the  life  of  Catholicism  is  to 
pour  itself  as  a  wholesome  qualifying  power,  yielding  to  it  the 
palm  of  superior  right  and  strength  ;  but  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other  of  these  alternatives  must  necessarily  be  the  answer  to  the 
question,  What  think  ye  of  Christ  and  His  Church?  Dr.  Nevin 
proposed  a  third  and  intermediate  view  which  he  regarded  as  most 
consonant  with  Scripture,  the  Creed,  and  a  rational  view  of  history. 
"The  two  forces.  Protestantism  and  Romanism,"  he  saj^s,  "may 
be  viewed  as  contrary  sides  merely  of  a  dialectic  process,  in  the 
Hegelian  sense,  which  must  be  both  alike  taken  up  and  so  brought 
to  an  end  (aufgehoben)  in  a  new  form  of  existence,  that  shall  be  at 
once  the  truth  of  both,  and  yet  be  something  higher  and  better 
than  either." 

He  believed  that  the  Church  was  a  supernatural  constitution  and 
had  a  supernatui-al  history  in  the  world.  It  had  of  course  a  human 
side,  in  which  frailty  and  foll^'  have  exhibited  themselves  in  all 
ages,  often  apparentl}'  the  pla^-  of  a  diabolical  agenc}-;  but  it  had 
a  divine  or  supernatural  side  also,  bearing  in  its  bosom  the  presence 
of  its  own  glorified  Head.  This  manifests  itself  also  from  age  to  age, 
and  often  in  the  darkest  periods.  Its  history  must,  therefore,  be 
viewed  as  a  growth  or  organic  process  throughout.  The  CA-idence 
of  such  a  presence  is  specially  manifest  at  particular  epochs,  but  the 
theory  requires  that  it  must  be  recognized  all  along  the  line  of  his- 


Chap.  XXXI]  early  Christianity  365 

tory.  To  establish  this  fact  it  became  necessaiy  for  Dr.  Xeviii  to 
oppose  current  theories,  and  in  their  place  to  show  that  there  was  a 
progressive  development  of  the  divine-human  life  of  the  Church 
from  the  time  of  the  Apostles  down  through  the  ages.  This  requir- 
ed of  him  to  make  concessions  to  the  Roman  Catholics,  which  few 
Protestant  writers  were  willing  to  admit.  He  did  this  freely*  in  his 
articles  on  Earl^'  Christianity,  and  it  subjected  him  largel}'  to  sus- 
picion, abuse  and  misrepresentations  from  ultra-protestant  writers. 

As  soon, however, as  he  had  finished  one  set  of  essays, he  resumed 
the  same  subject  and  prepared  four  length}'  articles  on  Cyprian, 
the  celebrated  African  church  father  who  lived  in  the  third  century. 
They  constitute  an  admirable  monograph  in  which  the  life,  the 
work,  and  the  writings  of  this  distinguished  l)ishop,  who  was 
honored  with  the  crown  of  martyrdom,  A.  D.  258,  are  portraj^ed 
with  much  force  and  rare  skill.  Among  his  works  that  have  come 
down  to  the  present  time,  Dr.  Xevin  pays  particular  attention  to 
his  treatise  De  Unitate  Ecclesiae^  in  which,  he  maintains,  ma^'  be 
seen  the  faith  of  the  ancients  in  regard  to  the  true  nature  of  the 
Church.  As  the  articles  on  C3-prian  had  the  same  general  object 
in  view  as  those  on  Earl}'  Christianit}',  it  will  not  be  necessary  for 
us  here  to  speak  of  them  in  detail.  Both  sought  to  controvert 
false  theories  of  Church  History  and  to  point  out  the  path  to  the 
solution  of  the  Church  (Question  on  rational  and  scriptural  grounds. 
We  will  hei'e  give  only  a  few  extracts,  which  will  tend  to  illustrate 
Cyprian's  views  of  Christianity  and  the  Church,  as  understood  by 
Dr.  Nevin,  after  a  thorough  and  careful  study  of  all  his  works. 

"Religion  with  Cyprian,"  sa3's  his  reviewer,  "was  no  form 
merely,  no  empty  theory  or  notion,  but  a  living  power  which  pos- 
sessed and  ruled  the  entire  man. — The  idea  of  an}-  opposition  be- 
tween the  Gospel  and  the  Church  lay  as  far  as  possible  from  his 
mind.  He  could  have  no  patience  with  any  spiritualit}',  which 
might  have  plumed  itself  on  being  indifferent  to  this  side  of  the 
mystery  of  godliness,  under  the  dream  of  moving  in  a  higher  and 
more  ethereal  region.  All  such  spirituality  he  would  have  de- 
nounced at  once,  beyond  every  sort  of  doubt,  as  false  spiritualism 
only,  Gnostic  hallucination,  the  action  of  the  simply  natural  mind 
in  the  way  of  religion,  substituted  for  the  operation  of  grace  under 
its  proper  supernatural  form.  To  be  in  the  Spirit  was  not  in  his 
view  any  exaltation  merely  of  the  natural  mind  as  such ;  that 
would  be  after  all  something  born  only  of  the  flcsfi,  which  can 
never,  l)y  any  stimulation,  we  are  told,  produce  any  thing  higher 
than   itself;  it  implied  with   liini  the  presence  and  action  of  the 


366  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DlY.  IX 

Hol}'  Ghost  in  the  Avorld  under  a,  real  form,  which  was  taken  to  be 
above  nature,  and  which  was  felt  to  involve  thus  necessarily  the 
idea  of  an  actual  constitution,  in  the  bosom  of  which  onl}-,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  the  world  in  its  common  form,  it  could  be  possible 
to  have  part  in  the  grace  it  was  supposed  to  comprehend. 

"  This  constitution  presented  itself  to  his  mind  as  an  object  of 
faith,  according  to  the  Creed,  in  the  mystery  of  the  Holy  Catholic 
Church.  There,  accordingly,  and  not  in  the  sphere  of  our  natural 
life  on  the  outside  of  this  Divine  constitution,  the  Spirit  was  regard- 
ed as  dwelling  and  working  in  a  most  real  objective  way,  for  the 
sanctification  and  salvation  of  sinful  men.  All  true  spirituality  then, 
in  the  view  of  Cj'prian,  was  conditioned  by  the  believing  acknowl- 
edgment of  this  mystery,  and  an  actual  submission  to  the  power 
of  it  in  its  own  place,  and  under  its  proper  form.  He  made  vast 
account  certainly  of  the  outward  Church,  of  the  regular  priest- 
hood, of  the  holy  Sacraments,  of  ecclesiastical  institutions  and 
forms  generally;  but  just  because  he  made  all  in  all  of  the  action 
of  the  Spirit,  and  believed  at  the  same  time  that  such  supernatural 
grace  was  not  to  be  found  in  the  order  of  nature,  but  offered  itself 
for  the  use  of  men  onl}-  in  the  Church,  and  so  through  the  forms 
and  ministrations  of  the  Church — that  it  was  a  mystery  in  such 
view,  which  men  are  bound  to  take  by  faith,  and  the  whole  sense  of 
which  is  lost  the  moment  they  pretend  to  deal  with  it  as  an  object 
of  mere  natural  sense  and  reason. 

"We  have  seen  already,  to  some  extent,  how  Cyprian's  doctrine 
of  the  Church  gave  character  and  form  to  his  theological  system  at 
other  points.  Along  with  the  idea  of  a  Divine  polity,  as  truly 
present  in  the  world  as  the  Jewish  theocrac}'  by  which  it  was  fore- 
shadowed, went  in  his  mind  also  the  conception  of  a  ministry  exer- 
cising really  Divine  functions,  of  a  proper  priesthood,  of  sacra- 
ments powerful  to  take  away  sin  and  forward  the  soul  in  the  way 
of  everlasting  life.  Baptism,  confirmation,  the  mystical  presence 
in  the  holy  eucharist,  the  awful  sacrifice  of  the  altar,  penance  in- 
cluding confession  and  absolution,  the  sacrament  of  orders,  conse- 
ci-ations  and  holy  rites  generally,  derived  for  him  their  significance 
and  force  from  this  article  of  the  Holy  Catholic  Church.  Here 
only  the  Bible  could  have  its  right  authority  and  proper  use.  Here 
only  any  virtue  could  have  any  true  Christian  merit. 

"  Cyprian's  system  of  religion,  which  was  at  the  same  time  that 
of  his  age,  we  have  found  to  be  mainly  Catholic  and  not  Protest- 
ant. All  is  conditioned  by  the  old  Catholic  theory  of  the  Church: 
all  flows,  from  first  to  last,  in  the  channel  of  the  Creed.    The  whole 


Chap.  XXXI]  early  Christianity  367 

is  in  such  view  in  perlVet  luiriuony  witli  itscll".  Tlu'ro  is  iiotliiiiii' 
broken  or  fragmentJiry  in  the  scheme ;  and  no  unprejudiced  mind 
can  fail  to  see,  that  it  is  in  all  material  points,  in  its  fundamental 
principles  and  leading  elements,  the  same  system  that  is  presented 
to  us  in  the  Nicene  period,  and  that  it  is  brought  out  more  fully 
afterwards  in  the  Catholicism  of  the  Middle  Ages.  This  then  is 
the  same  result  precisely  that  was  reached  in  our  articles  on  Early 
Christianity,  only  under  a  somewhat  different  view. 

"No  sophistry  can  ever  make  Protestant  Christianity  to  be  the 
same  thing  with  the  Christianity  of  the  Earl}-  Church.  Episcopalian- 
ism  here  too,  with  all  its  pretensions  and  self-conceit,  has  just  as 
little  real  historical  bottom  to  stand  upon  as  the  cause  of  the  Refor- 
mation under  a  different  form.  No  part  of  the  interest  can  ever  be 
successfull}'  vindicated,  as  being  a  repristination  simph'  of  what 
Christianity'  was  in  the  beginning;  and  it  is  only  a  waste  of  strength, 
and  a  betra3^al  indeed  of  the  whole  cause,  to  pretend  to  make  good 
its  assumptions  and  claims  in  any  such  violent  way.  Sooner  or 
later  history  must  revenge  itself  for  the  wrong  it  is  thus  made  to 
bear. — We  must  therefore  resort  to  the  theory  of  historical  devel- 
opment, by  which  the  Catholic  form  of  the  Church  shall  be  re- 
Cfarded  as  the  natural  and  leijitimate  cause  of  its  historv  onward  to 
the  time  of  the  Reformation,  and  the  state  of  things  be  taken  as  a 
more  advanced  stage  of  that  same  previous  life,  struggling  forward 
to  a  still  higher  and  far  more  glorious  consummation  in  time  to 
come." 

The  theory  of  historical  development,  frequentl}'  referred  to 
in  this  discussion,  may  of  course  be  carried  out  in  various  ways. 
The  methods  of  Newman,  Rothe,  Neauder,  SchafT  and  Thiersch,  are 
not  in  all  respects  the  same,  and  it  may  be  presumed  that  Dr.  Nevin's 
view  of  development  may  not  have  been,  in  all  respects,  precisely 
the  same  as  an}-  one  of  those  of  the  distinguished  theologians  just 
named.  But  who  now  that  has  any  faith  in  history  can  doubt  that 
Christianity  has  developed  itself  in  past  ages  as  an  organic  or 
genetic  growth?  In  this  respect  it  obejs  the  laws  of  histor}-  in 
general,  but  differs  from  all  the  other  historical  processes  in  the 
fact  that  it  embodies  in  it  a  divine  element  that  never  dies,  inde- 
structible and  self-perpetuating.  S3-steins  of  natural  religion  may 
persist  for  ages,  but  their  vitality'  declines  and  they  have  no  power 
to  arrest  the  progress  of  decaj'.  Christianit}',  on  the  other  hand, 
has  in  it  a  recuperative  energy — a  well  of  water  si)ringing  up  into 
everlasting  life, as  Christ  Himself  says — and  therefore,  when  it  seems 
to  be  wearing    out    under   one    form,  it   rejuvenates    itself   under 


368  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.    IX 

another. — With  the  four  extended  articles  on  Cyprian,  Dr.  Nevin 
practicall}'  closed  the  discussion  of  the  Church  Question,  histor- 
ically considered.  He  admitted  its  difficulty,  and  invited  others, 
especially  such  as  may  not  have  assented  to  his  conclusions,  to  give 
the  subject  their  attention,  and  contribute  their  share,  as  he  had 
done,  to  the  solution  of  the  problem  with  which  he  had  wrestled. 
The  Catholicism  of  past  centuries  was  to  him  no  more  satisfactory 
than  the  divided  state  of  Protestantism,  and  he  looked  to  the  future 
when  God  in  His  own  way  would  heal  the  divisions  of  Zion. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

IX  the  articles  thus  far  considered,  it  will  be  perceived  that  Dr. 
Xevin's  mind  was  much  occupied  Avith  the  idea  of  the  Church 
as  trul}:  Catholic.  Nowhere  could  he  see  it  realized  in  the  Chris- 
tianity of  his  times,  neither  in  the  Anglican  nor  in  the  Roman 
Church,  where  most  account  is  made  of  the  title.  The  verj-  name 
of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  proves  that  it  is  limited  to  one  or- 
der of  civilization,  and  that  it  can  be  said  to  be  Catholic  onl^-  in  a 
limited,  and  one-sided  sense.  It  therefore  seemed  to  be  incumbent 
on  him  to  define  more  clearly  what  was  truly  Catholic,  and  to  show 
in  what  it  consists.  This  he  proceeded  to  do  in  the  January  num- 
ber of  the  Mi'vccvf^hurg  Jirrieir  for  the  year_1851,  in  an  admirable 
article  on  Catholicity,  which  is  here  presented  to  the  reader  with- 
out any  abbreviation. 

Among  the  attributes  which  Christianity  has  claimed  to  it- 
self from  the  beginning,  there  is  none  perhaps  more  interesting 
and  significant  than  that  which  is  expressed  by  the  title  Catholic. 
It  is  not  the  product  in  any  wa^^  of  mere  accident  or  caprice; 
just  as  little  as  the  idea  of  the  Church  itself  may  be  taken  to 
have  any  origin  of  this  sort.  It  has  its  necessit}'  in  the  very 
conception  of  Christianity  and  the  Church.  Hence  it  is  that  we 
find  it  entering  into  the  earliest  Christian  confession,  the  Apos- 
tles' Creed,  as  an  essential  element  of  the  faith  that  springs  from 
Christ.  As  the  myster}'^  of  the  Church  itself  is  no  object  of  mere 
speculation,  and  rests  not  in  any  outward  sense  or  testimony  only, 
but  must  be  received  as  an  article  of  faith  which  proceeds  with  in- 
ward necessity  from  the  higher  mystery  of  the  Incarnation,  so  also 
the  grand  distinguishing  attributes  of  the  Church,  as  we  have  them 
in  the  f^'eed,  carr}'  with  them  the  same  kind  of  inward  necessary 
force  for  the  mind  in  which  this  Creed  truly  prevails.  The}'  are 
not  brought  from  abroad,  but  spring  directly  from  the  constitution 
of  the  fact  itself  with  which  faith  is  here  placed  in  comnHinication. 
The  idea  of  the  Church  as  a  real  object  for  faith,  and  not  a  fontastic 
notion  only  for  the  imagination,  involves  the  chai-acter  of  Cath- 
olicity', as  well  as  that  of  truth  and  holiness,  as  something  which 
belongs  inseparably  to  its  very  nature.  To  have  true  faith  in  the 
Church  at  all,  we  must  receive  it  as  One,  II0I3',  Apostolical,  and 
Catholic.     To  let  go  any  of  these  attributes  in  our  thought,  is  neces- 

(3G9) 


3*r0  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  ]X 

sarily  to  give  up  at  the  same  time  the  heing  of  the  Church  itself  as 
an  article  of  ftiith,  and  to  substitute  for  it  a  mere  chimera  of  our 
own  brain  under  its  sacred  name.  Hence  the  tenacity  with  which 
the  Church  has  ever  held  fost  to  this  title  of  Catholic,  as  her  in- 
alienable distinction  over  against  all  mere  parties  or  sects  bearing 
the  Christian  name.  Had  the  title  been  onl^-  of  accidental  or  artifi- 
cial origin,  no  such  stress  would  have  been  laid  on  it,  and  no  such 
force  would  have  been  felt  always  to  go  along  with  its  application. 
It  has  had  its  reason  and  authority  all  along,  not  so  much  in  what 
it  may  have  been  made  to  mean  exactly  for  the  understanding  in 
the  wa^'  of  formal  definition  and  reflection,  as  in  the  living  sense 
rather  of  Christianity  itself,  the  consciousness  of  faith  here  as  that 
which  goes  before  all  reflection  and  furnishes  the  contents  with 
which  it  is  to  be  exercised. 

The  term  Catholic,  it  is  generally  understood,  is  of  the  same  sense 
immediately'  with  universal ;  and  so  we  find  some  who  are  jealous 
of  the  first,  as  carrying  to  their  ears  a  popish  sound,  affecting  to 
use  this  last  rather  in  the  Creed.  They  feel  it  easier  to  say:  "I 
believe  in  a  hol3',  universal  or  general  Church,"  than  to  adopt  out 
and  out  the  old  form:  "I  believe  in  the  Holy  Catholic,  or  in  one 
Holy  Catholic  Church."  In  this  case,  however,  it  needs  to  be 
borne  in  mind  that  there  are  two  kinds  of  generality  or  unixersality^ 
and  that  only  one  of  them  answers  to  the  true  force  of  the  term 
Catholic ;  so  that  there  is  some  danger  of  bringing  in  by  such  change 
of  terms  an  actual  change  of  sense  also,  that  shall  go  in  the  end  to 
overthrow  the  proper  import  of  the  attribute  altogether. 

The  two  kinds  of  uniA'ersality  to  which  we  refer  are  presented  to 
us  in  the  words  all  and  whole.  These  are  often  taken  to  be  sub- 
stantially of  one  and  the  same  meaning.  In  truth,  however,  their 
sense  is  ver^-  diflferent.  The  first  is  an  abstraction,  derived  from 
the  contemplation  or  thought  of  a  certain  number  of  separate  indi- 
vidual existences,  which  are  brought  together  in  the  mind  and  clas- 
sified collectively  by  the  notion  of  their  common  properties.  In 
such  view,  the  general  is  of  course  something  secondary  to  the  in- 
dividual existences  from  which  it  is  abstracted,  and  it  can  never  be 
more  broad  or  comprehensive  than  these  are  in  their  numerical  and 
empirical  aggregation.  It  is  ever  accordingly  a  limited  and  finite 
generality.  Thus  we  speak  of  all  the  trees  in  a  forest,  all  the  stars, 
all  men,  &c.,  meaning  properly  in  each  case  the  actual  number  of 
trees,  stars,  or  men,  individually  embraced  at  the  same  time  in  our 
general  view,  neither  more  nor  less,  a  totality  which  exists  only  by  the 
mind  and  is  stricth'  dependent  on  the  objects  considered  in  their 


Chap.  XXXII]  catholicity  371 

individiuil  character.  We  reach  the  conception  b^-  a  process  of  in- 
duction, starting  with  single  things,  and  l\y  comparison  and  ab- 
straction rising  to  what  is  general ;  while  yet  in  the  very  nature  of 
the  case  the  generality-  can  never  transcend  the  true  bounds  of  the 
empirical  process  out  of  which  it  grows  and  on  which  it  rests.  But 
widely  different  now  from  all  this,  is  the  conception  legitimately 
expressed  b^-  the  word  w/iolc  The  generality  it  denotes  is  not  ab- 
stract, a  mere  notion  added  to  things  outwardly  by  the  mind,  but 
concrete;  it  is  wrought  into  the  verA'  nature  of  the  things  them- 
selves, and  they  grow  forth  from  it  as  the  necessary  and  perpetual 
ground  of  their  own  being  and  life.  In  this  way,  it  does  not  depend 
on  individual  and  single  existences  as  their  product  or  consequence; 
although  indeed  it  can  have  no  place  in  the  living  world  without 
them ;  but  in  the  order  of  actual  being  they  must  be  taken  rather 
to  depend  on  it,  and  to  subsist  in  it  and  from  it  as  their  proi)er 
original.  Such  a  generality  is  not  finite,  but  infinite,  that  is,  with- 
out empirical  limits  and  bounds;  it  is  not  the  creature  of  mere  ex- 
perience, and  so  is  not  held  to  its  particular  measure  however  large, 
but  in  the  form  of  idea  is  always  more  than  the  simple  aggregate  of 
things  by  which  it  is  revealed  at  any  given  time  in  the  world  of 
sense.  The  all  expresses  a  mechanical  unity,  which  is  made  up  of 
the  parts  that  belong  to  it,  by  their  being  brought  together  in  a 
pui-ely  outward  way;  the  whole  signifies  on  the  contrary  an  organic 
unity,  where  the  parts  as  such  have  no  separate  and  independent 
existence,  but  draw  their  being  from  the  iniiversal  unity  itself  in 
which  they  are  comprehended,  while  they  serve  at  the  same  time  to 
l)riug  it  into  view.  The  whole  man  for  instance  is  not  simply  all 
the  elements  and  powers  that  enter  empirically  into  his  constitution, 
but  this  living  constitution  itself  rather  as  something  more  general 
than  all  such  elements  and  i^owers,  in  virtue  of  which  only  they 
come  to  be  thus  what  they  are  in  fact.  In  the  same  waj'  the  whole 
of  nature  is  b}'  no  means  of  one  sense  simply  with  the  numerical 
aggregate,  the  actual  all,  of  the  objects  and  things  that  go  to  make 
up  what  we  call  the  system  of  nature  at  any  given  time;  and  hu- 
manity or  the  human  race  as  a  whole  may  never  be  taken  as  identi- 
cal with  all  men,  whether  this  be  understood  of  all  the  men  of  the 
present  generation  oidy  or  be  so  extended  as  to  include  all  gener- 
ations in  the  like  outward  view.  Even  where  the  thing  in  view 
may  appear  by  its  nature  to  exclude  the  general  distinction  here 
made,  it  will  l)e  found  on  close  consideration  that  where  the  terms 
before  us  are  used  at  all  ai)propriately  they  never  have  just  the 
same  sense,  but  that  the  whole  of  a  thing  implies  always  of  right 


312  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

something  more  than  is  expressed  merel}^  bj^  its  all.  The  whole 
house  is  not  of  one  signification  with  all  the  house,  the  whole  watch 
with  all  its  parts,  or  the  whole  librar}^  with  all  the  certain  hooks 
that  are  found  upon  its  shelves.  Two  different  ways  of  looking  at 
the  object,  whatever  it  ma}^  be,  are  indicated  by  the  two  terms,  and 
also  two  materiall}^  different  conceptions,  the  force  of  which  it  is 
not  difficult  to  feel  even  where  there  may  be  no  power  to  make  it 
clear  for  thought. 

And  now  if  it  be  asked,  which  of  these  two  orders  of  universality^ 
is  intended  by  the  title  Catholic,  as  applied  to  the  Christian  Church, 
the  answer  is  at  once  sufficiently  plain.  It  is  that  which  is  ex. 
pressed  by  the  word  whole  (a  term  that  comes  indeed  etymologi- 
cally  from  the  same  root),  and  not  that  whose  meaning  lies  more 
fitl}'  in  the  word  all.  A  man  may  say :  "  I  believe  in  a  holy,  uni- 
versal Church;"  when  his  meaning  comes  merely  to  this  at  last, 
that  he  puts  all  single  Christians  together  in  his  own  mind,  and  is 
willing  then  to  acknowledge  them  under  this  collective  title.  The 
universality  thus  reached,  however,  is  only  an  abstraction,  and  as 
such  falls  short  altogether  of  the  living  concrete  mystery  which  is 
set  before  us  as  an  object,  not  of  reflection  simply,  but  of  divine 
supernatural  faith,  in  the  old  o'cumenical  symbols.  The  true  uni- 
A^ersality  of  Christ's  kingdom  is  organic  and  concrete.  It  has  a 
real  historical  existence  in  the  world  in  and  through  the  parts  of 
which  it  is  composed;  while  3'et  it  is  not  in  an}'  wa}'  the  sum  simply 
or  result  of  these,  as  though  they  could  have  a  separate  existence 
beyond  and  before  such  general  fact ;  but  rather  it  must  be  regarded 
as  going  before  thevi  in  the  order  of  actual  being,  as  underlying 
them  at  every  point,  and  as  comprehending  them  always  in  its 
more  ample  range.  It  is  the  tvhole,  in  virtue  of  which  only  the 
parts  entering  into  its  constitution  can  have  any  real  subsistence 
as  parts,  whether  taken  collectively  or  single.  Such  undoubtedly 
is  the  sense  of  the  ancient  formula,  "I  believe  in  the  Hoi}-  Catholic 
Church,"  as  it  meets  us  in  the  faith  of  the  earl}'  Christian  world. 

But  the  idea  of  wholeness  is  variously  determined  of  course  by 
the  nature  of  the  object  to  which  it  may  be  applied.  We  can  speak 
of  a  whole  forest,  a  whole  continent,  or  a  whole  planet;  of  a  whole 
species  of  animals,  or  of  animated  nature  as  a  whole;  of  a  whole 
man,  a  whole  nation,  a  whole  generation,  or  a  whole  human  world. 
What  now  is  the  whole,  in  reference  to  which  the  attribute  of  the 
Church  here  under  consideration  is  affirmed,  as  a  necessary  article 
of  Christian  faith? 

The  only  proper  answer  to  this  question  is,  that  the  attribute 


Chap.  XXXII]  catholicitv  373 

refers  to  the  idea  of  universal  humanit}-,  or  of  tliis  world  as  a  whole. 
When  Christianit}'  is  declared  to  be  Catholic,  the  declaration  must 
be  taken  in  its  full  sense  to  affirm,  that  the  last  idea  of  this  world, 
as  brought  to  its  completion  in  man,  is  made  perfectly  possible  in 
the  form  of  Christianity,  and  in  this  form  alone,  and  that  this 
power  therefore  can  never  cease  to  work  until  it  shall  have  actually 
taken  possession  of  the  world  as  a  whole,  and  shall  thus  stand 
openl}'  and  clearly  revealed  as  the  true  consummation  of  its  nature 
and  history'  in  ever^^  other  view. 

The  universalness  here  affirmed  must  be  taken  to  extend  in  the 
end,  of  course,  over  the  limits  of  man's  nature  abstractly  considered, 
to  the  physical  constitution  of  the  surrounding  world,  according  to 
Rom.  viii,  19-23,  2  Peter  iii,  13,  and  many  other  passages  in  the 
Bible;  for  the  physical  and  moral  are  so  bound  together  as  a  single 
whole  in  the  organization  of  man's  life,  that  the  true  and  full  re- 
demption of  this  last  would  seem  of  itself  to  require  a  real  palin- 
genesia  or  renovation  also  of  the  earth  in  its  natural  form.  The 
proper  wholeness  even  of  nature  itself,  ideally  considered,  lies  ulti- 
mately in  the  power  of  Christianity',  and  can  be  brought  to  pass  or 
made  actual  only  by  its  means.  But  it  is  more  immediatel}'  and 
directly  with  the  world  of  humanitj'  as  such  that  this  power  is  con- 
cerned, and  such  reference  is  to  be  acknowledged  too,  no  doubt,  as 
mainly  predominant  in  the  ecclesiastical  use  of  the  title  which  we 
have  now  in  hand.  Christianity  is  Catholic,  and  claims  to  be  so 
received  by  an  act  of  faith,  inasmuch  as  it  forms  the  true  and  proper 
wholeness  of  mankind,  the  round  and  full  symmetrical  cosmos  of 
humanit}-,  within  which  only  its  individual  manifestations  can  ever 
become  complete,  and  on  the  outside  of  which  there  is  no  room  to 
think  of  man's  life  except  as  a  failure. 

There  are  two  ways  of  looking  at  the  human  world,  under  the 
conception  of  its  totality.  The  view  may  regard  simply-  the  area 
of  the  world's  life  outwardly  considered,  humanity  in  its  numerical 
extent,  as  made  up  of  a  certain  number  of  nations,  tribes  and  indi- 
vidual men;  or  it  may  be  directed  more  particularly  to  the  world's 
life  inwardly  considered,  humanit}'  in  its  intensive  character,  the 
being  of  man  as  a  living  fact  or  constitution  made  up  of  certain 
elements,  laws,  forces  and  relations,  Avhich  enter  necessaril}'  into  its 
concei)tion  aside,  from  the  particular  millions  of  living  men  as  such, 
l)y  which  it  may  be  represented  at  any  given  time.  These  two 
conceptions  are  plainly  different ;  while  it  is  equally  plain  at  the 
same  time  that  neither  of  them  may  be  allowed  with  any  propriet}' 
to  exclude  the  other,  but  that  the  true  and  real  wholeness  of  hu- 


374  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

manity  is  to  be  found  onlj'  in  the  union  of  both.  Christianity  or 
the  Kingdom  of  God  is  Catholic,  as  it  carries  in  itself  the  power  to 
take  possession  of  the  world  both  extensively  and  intensively,  and 
can  never  rest  short  of  this  end.  It  is  formed  for  such  two-fold 
victory  over  the  reign  of  sin,  and  has  a  mission  from  heaven  ac- 
cordingly to  conquer  the  universe  of  man's  life  in  tuis  whole  and 
entire  wa}-. 

Here  precisely  lies  the  missionary  nature  and  character  of  the 
Church.  It  has  a  call  to  possess  the  world,  and  it  is  urged  con- 
tinually bj'  its  own  constitution  to  fulfill  this  call.  The  spirit  of 
missioais,  wherever  it  prevails,  bears  testimon}-  to  the  Catholicity 
of  Christianity,  and  rests  on  the  assumption  that  it  is  the  onl}'  ab- 
solutely true  and  normal  form  of  man's  life,  and  so  of  right  should, 
and  of  necessity  also  at  last  must,  come  to  be  universally  acknowl- 
edged and  obe3'ed. 

As  regards  the  numerical  view  of  the  world,  or  its  evangelization 
in  exfenso,  this  is  generall}-  admitted.  All  Christians  are  ready  to 
allow,  that  the  world  in  this  view  belongs  of  right  to  Christ,  and 
that  it  is  his  purpose  and  plan  to  take  possession  of  it  universally 
in  the  end  as  his  own.  The  commission, "  Go  ye  into  all  the  world 
and  preach  the  Gospel  to  every  creature,"  at  once  makes  it  a  duty 
to  seek  the  extension  of  the  Gospel  among  all  men,  and  authorizes 
the  confident  expectation  that  this  extension  will  finally  be  reached. 
The  world  needs  Christianity,  and  it  can  never  rest  satisfied  to  be 
anything  less  than  a  full  complement  for  this  need.  It  has  regard 
by  its  very  nature,  not  to  any  section  of  humanity  only,  not  to  any 
particular  nation  or  age  or  race,  but  to  humanity  as  such,  to  the 
universal  idea  of  man,  as  this  includes  all  kindred,  tribes  and 
tongues  under  the  whole  heaven.  "  The  field  is  the  world."  Chris- 
tianity- can  tolerate  no  Heathenism,  Mohammedanism,  or  Judaism 
at  its  side.  It  may  not  forego  its  right  to  the  poorest  or  most  out- 
cast and  degraded  tribe  upon  the  earth,  in  favor  of  any  other  re- 
ligion. Wherever  human  life  reaches,  it  claims  the  right  of  follow- 
ing it  and  embracing  it  in  the  wa}-  of  redemption.  The  heathen  are 
given  to  the  Son  for  His  inheritance,  and  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
earth  for  His  possession.  It  is  a  sound  and  right  feeling  thus  which 
enters  into  the  cause  of  missions  in  its  ordinar}'  form,  and  leads  the 
Church  to  pray  and  put  forth  action  in  various  waj's  for  the  con- 
version of  the  nations. 

But  it  is  not  always  so  clearly  seen,  that  the  intensive  mastery 
of  the  world's  life  belongs  just  as  truly  as  this  extensive  work  to 
the  idea  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  that  it  ought  to  be  therefore 


Chap.  XXXII]  catholicity  375 

just  as  inuch  also  an  object  of  missionaiy  interest  and  zeal.  The 
two  interests  indeed  can  never  be  entirely  separated :  since  it  be- 
longs to  the  very  nature  of  Christianity  to  take  possession  in  some 
way  of  the  interior  life  of  men,  and  the  idea  of  salvation  I)}-  its 
means  unavoidably  involves  something  more  than  a  simply  outward 
relation  to  it  under  an}-  form.  Hence  a  mere  outward  profession 
of  it  is  felt  on  all  hands  to  be  not  enough;  although  even  this  as 
far  as  it  goes  forms  a  part  also  of  that  universal  homage  which  is 
its  due;  but  along  with  this  is  required  to  go  also  some  transform- 
ation of  character,  as  a  necessary  passport  to  the  heavenly  world 
towards  which  it  looks.  So  in  nominally  Christian  lands,  and 
within  the  bounds  of  the  outward  visible  Church  itself,  there  is  re- 
cognized generalh-  the  presence  of  a  more  inward  living  evangeliza- 
tion, a  narrower  missionary  work,  which  consists  in  the  form  of 
what  is  sometimes  called  experimental  religion,  and  has  for  its 
object  the  interior  form  of  the  life  it  pretends  to  take  possession 
of,  its  actual  substance,  rather  than  the  mere  matter  of  it  outwardly 
taken.  In  this  country,  particular!}',  no  distinction  is  more  familiar, 
than  that  between  the  mere  outward  acknowledgment  of  Chris- 
tianity and  the  power  of  religion  in  the  souls  of  its  true  subjects; 
although  the  line  of  this  distinction  is  more  or  less  vaguely  and 
variousl}'  drawn,  to  suit  the  fancy  of  different  sects.  But  still  it  is 
for  the  most  part  a  very  inadecpiate  apprehension  after  all,  that 
seems  to  be  taken  in  tliis  way  of  the  inner  mission  of  Christianity. 
Even  under  its  experimental  and  spiritual  aspect,  the  work  of  the 
Gospel  is  too  generally  thought  of  as  something  comparatively  out- 
ward to  the  proper  life  of  man,  and  so  a  power  exerted  on  it 
mechanically  from  abroad  for  its  salvation,  rather  than  a  real  re- 
demption brought  to  pass  in  it  from  the  inmost  depths  of  its  own 
nature.  According  to  this  view,  the  great  purpose  of  the  Gospel  is 
to  save  men  from  hell,  and  bring  them  to  heaven ;  this  is  accom- 
plished by  the  machinery  of  the  atonement  and  justification  by 
faith,  carrying  along  with  it  a  sort  of  magical  supernatural  change 
of  state  and  character  b}'  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  in  con- 
formity with  the  use  of  certain  means  for  the  purpose  on  the  part 
of  men ;  and  so  now  it  is  taken  to  be  the  great  work  of  the  Church 
to  carry  forward  the  process  of  deliverance,  almost  exclusivel}' 
under  such  mechanical  aspect,  by  urging  and  helping  as  many  souls 
as  possible  in  their  separate  individual  character  to  flee  from  the 
wrath  to  come,  and  to  secure  for  themselves  through  the  grace  of 
conversion  a  good  hope  against  the  dav  of  judgment. 

With  many  of  our  sects  at  least,  the  idea  of  religion  (evangelical  or 


376  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

experimental  religion  as  the}'  are  pleased  to  call  it),  would  seem  to 
run  out  almost  entirely  into  a  sort  of  purely'  outward  spiritualism  in 
the  form  now  noticed,  with  almost  no  regard  whatever  to  the  actual 
contents  of  our  life  as  a  concrete  whole.  Their  zeal  looks  to  the 
conversion  of  men  in  detail,  after  their  own  pattern  and  scheme  of 
experience,  as  a  life-boat  looks  to  the  preservation  of  as  many  as 
possible  from  a  drowning  wreck;  but  beyond  this  it  seems  to  be  in  a 
great  measure  without  purpose  or  aim.  Once  converted  and  made 
safe  in  this  magical  way,  the  mission  of  the  Church  in  regard  to 
them  (unless  it  should  be  found  necessary  to  convert  them  over 
again),  is  felt  to  be  virtually  at  an  end;  and  if  only  the  whole  world 
could  be  thus  saved,  there  would  be  an  end  of  the  same  mission  for 
mankind  altogether;  we  should  have  the  millenium,  and  to  preserve 
it  for  a  thousand  years  would  only  need  afterwards  to  look  well  to 
the  whole  conversion  of  each  new  generation  subsequently,  as  it 
might  come  of  age  for  such  purpose. 

But,  alas,  how  far  short  every  such  view  falls  of  the  true  glorious 
idea  of  the  kingdom  of  God  among  men,  as  it  meets  us  in  the  Bible 
and  in  the  necessary  sense  of  the  grand  m3'stery  of  the  Incarnation, 
on  which  the  whole  truth  of  the  Bible  rests. 

Even  in  case  of  the  individual  man,  singly  and  separately  con- 
sidered, the  idea  of  redemption  can  never  be  answered  by  the  imag- 
ination of  a  merely  extensive  salvation,  a  deliverance  in  the  form 
of  outward  power,  under  an}^  view.  All  admit,  that  his  translation 
bodily  as  he  now  is  in  his  natural  state  into  heaven,  would  be  for 
him  no  entrance  really  into  a  heavenly  life.  It  is  not  in  the  power 
of  locality'  or  place  of  itself  to  set  him  in  glory.  Precisely  the  like 
contradiction  is  involved  (although  it  may  not  be  at  once  so  gen- 
erally plain),  in  the  supposition  of  a  wholly'  ab  extra  transformation 
of  the  redeemed  subject  into  the  heavenly  form  of  existence.  This 
at  best  would  be  the  creation  of  a  new  subject  altogether,  as  much 
as  if  a  stone  were  raised  by  a  Divine  fiat  to  the  dignity  of  a  living 
angel,  and  in  no  real  sense  whatever  the  redemption  of  the  same 
subject  into  a  higher  order  of  life.  No  redemption  in  the  case  of 
man  can  be  real,  that  is  not  from  within  as  well  as  from  without; 
that  is  not  brought  to  penetrate  the  inmost  ground  of  his  being, 
and  that  has  not  power  to  work  itself  forth  from  this,  outwards  and 
upwards,  till  it  shall  take  possession  finallj^  of  the  whole  periphery 
of  his  nature,  bodj^  as  well  as  soul.  This  in  the  very  nature  of 
the  case  is  a  process,  answerable  to  the  universal  character  of  our 
present  life. 

To  conceive  of  it  as  something  which  is  brought  to  pass  sud- 


Chap.  XXXII]  catholicity  377 

denly  and  at  once,  without  mediation  and  growth,  is  to  sunder 
it  from  the  actual  constitution  of  humanity,  to  place  it  on  the 
outside  of  this,  and  so  to  reduce  it,  in  spite  of  all  spiritualistic 
pretensions  the  other  wa}-,  to  the  character  of  a  simply  mechanical 
salvation,  that  is  at  last  no  better  than  a  drea,m.  And  it  is  of 
course  much  the  same  thing,  to  make  the  beginning  here  stand  for 
the  whole;  and  so  to  swell  the  starting  point  of  the  new  life  out  of 
all  right  proportion,  that  instead  of  being,  like  the  beginning  of  the 
natural  life  itself,  in  a  great  measure  out  of  sight  and  knowledge 
(or  at  most  as  a  grain  of  mustard,  the  least  of  all  seeds),  it  is  made 
to  stand  forth  to  view  empirically  as  the  proper  whole  of  salvation 
in  this  world,  throwing  the  idea  of  the  process  which  should  follow 
complelel}-  into  the  shade,  or  turning  it  into  dull  unmeaning  monot- 
ony and  cant. 

Every  such  restriction  of  the  idea  of  Christianity  to  a  single 
point  of  the  Christian  life,  even  though  it  be  the  point  where  all 
individual  salvation  begins,  is  chargeable  with  deep  and  sore 
wrong  to  the  idea  as  a  whole,  and  cannot  fail  to  be  followed 
with  disastrous  consequences,  wherever  it  may  prevail,  in  some 
form  of  practical  one-sided  divergency,  more  or  less  morbidly  fa- 
natical, from  the  true  and  proper  course  of  the  new  creation  in 
Christ.  The  full  salvation  of  the  man  turns  ultimately  on  his  full 
sanctification;  the  kingdom  of  heaven  must  be  in  him  as  a  reign  of 
righteousness,  in  order  that  it  may  be  revealed  around  him  as  a 
reign  of  glory.  It  must  take  up  his  nature  into  itself  intensively,, 
as  leaven  works  itself  into  the  whole  measure  of  meal  in  which  it  is 
hid,  in  order  that  it  may  be  truly  commensurate  with  the  full  volume 
of  his  Ijeing  outwardly  considered.  The  new  birth  is  the  beginning 
of  a  progressive  maturation,  which  has  its  full  end  only  in  the  res- 
urrection ;  and  this  last,  bringing  with  it  the  glorification  of  the 
entire  man,  can  be  rationally  anticipated,  only  as  it  is  felt  to  have 
its  real  possibility  in  the  power  of  such  a  whole  renovation  ripening 
before  to  this  blessed  result. 

But  to  understand  fully  the  inner  mission  of  Christianity  now 
under  consideration,  we  must  look  beyond  the  merely  individual 
life  as  such  to  the  moral  organization  of  society-,  in  which  alone  it 
can  ever  be  found  real  and  complete.  Pure  naked  individuality  in 
the  case  of  man  is  an  abstraction,  for  which  there  is  no  place  what- 
ever in  the  concrete  human  world.  The  single  man  is  what  he  is 
always,  only  in  virtue  of  the  social  life  in  which  he  is  comi)rehendedi 
and  of  which  he  is  a  part.  His  separate  existence  is  conditioned 
universally  by  a  general  human  substance  be3'ond  it,  from  which  it 
24 


318  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

takes  root,  and  derives  both  quality  and  strength.  The  idea  of  re- 
demption then,  in  his  case,  implies  of  necessity  far  more  than  any 
deliverance  that  can  have  place  for  his  life  separately  regarded. 
As  it  must  lay  hold  of  this  as  such  in  an  inward  way,  in  order  to 
become  outwardly  actual,  so  also  to  do  this  effectually  it  must  have 
power  to  reach  and  change  the  general  substance  of  humanity  out 
of  which  the  individual  life  is  found  to  spring.  In  other  words,  no 
redemption  can  be  real  for  man  singly  taken,  or  for  any  particular 
man,  which  is  not  at  the  same  time  real  for  humanity  in  its  collec- 
tive view,  for  the  fallen  race  as  a  whole.  Hence  it  is  that  Chris- 
tianity, which  challenges  the  homage  of  the  world  as  such  a  system 
of  real  redemption,  can  never  possibly  be  satisfied  with  the  object 
of  a  simply  numerical  salvation,  to  be  accomplished  in  favor  of  a 
certain  number  of  individual  men,  an  abstract  election  of  single 
souls,  whether  this  be  taken  as  large  or  small,  a  few  only  or  very 
man}',  or  even  all  of  the  human  family.  The  idea  of  the  true  neces- 
sary wholeness  of  humanity  is  not  helped  at  all  by  the  numerical 
extent  of  anj^  such  abstraction.  It  stands  in  the  general  nature  of 
man,  the  human  life  collectivel}^  considered,  as  this  underlies  all 
such  distribution,  and  goes  before  it  in  the  order  of  existence,  fill- 
ing it  with  its  proper  organic  force  and  sense  in  the  constitution  of 
society. 

Here  especiall}^  comes  into  view  the  full  form  and  scope  of  the 
work,  which  must  take  place  intensively  in  the  life  of  the  world 
before  the  victory  of  the  Grospel  can  be  regarded  as  complete.  Hu- 
manity includes  in  its  general  organization  certain  orders  and 
spheres  of  moral  existence,  that  can  never  be  sundered  from  its  idea 
without  overthrowing  it  altogether;  they  enter  with  essential  neces- 
sity into  its  constitution,  and  are  full  as  much  part  and  parcel  of  it 
all  the  world  over  as  the  bones  and  sinews  that  go  to  make  up  the 
body  of  the  outward  man.  The  familv  for  instance  and  the  state, 
with  the  various  domestic  and  civil  relations  that  grow  out  of  them, 
are  not  to  be  considered  factitious  or  accidental  institutions  in  any 
way,  continued  for  the  use  of  man's  life  from  abroad  and  brought 
near  to  it  onh*  in  an  outward  manner.  The}'  belong  inherently  to 
it ;  it  can  have  no  right  or  normal  character  without  them ;  and  any 
want  of  perfection  in  them  must  even  be  to  the  same  extent  a  want 
of  i^erfection  in  the  life  itself  as  human,  in  which  they  are  compre- 
hended. 

So  again  the  moral  nature  of  man  includes  in  its  A'er}'  concep- 
tion the  idea  of  art,  the  idea  of  science,  the  idea  of  business  and 
trade.     It  carries  in  itself  certain  powers  and  demands  that  lead  to 


Chap.  XXXII]  catholicity  379 

these  forms  of  existence,  .is  the  necessnry  evolution  of  its  own  in- 
ward sense.  Iliunanit}-  stands  in  tlie  activity  of  reason  and  will, 
under  their  proper  general  character.  Take  away  from  it  an 3-  in- 
terest or  sphere  which  legitimately  belongs  to  such  activity,  and  in 
the  same  measure  it  must  cease  to  be  a  true  and  sound  humanity 
altogether.  No  interest. or  sphere  of  this  sort  then  can  be  allowed 
to  remain  on  the  outside  of  a  S3'stem  of  redemption,  which  has  for 
its  object  man  as  such  in  his  follen  state.  If  Christianit}'  be  indeed 
such  a  system,  it  must  be  commensurate  in  full  with  the  constitu- 
tion of  humanity  naturally-  considered ;  it  must  have  power  to  take 
up  into  itself  not  a  part  of  this  onl}'  but  the  whole  of  it,  and  by  no 
possibility  can  it  ever  be  satisfied  with  an}-  less  universal  result. 

All  this  we  saj-  falls  to  the  inner  mission  of  Christianity,  its  des- 
tination to  raise  hurrianity,  inwardly  considered,  to  a  higher  power, 
a  new  quality  and  tone,  as  well  as  to  take  possession  of  it  by  terri- 
torial conquest  from  sea  to  sea  and  from  pole  to  pole.  And  it 
needs  to  be  avoII  understood  and  kept  in  mind,  that  the  first  object 
here  is  full  as  needful  as  the  second,  and  belongs  quite  as  really  to 
the  cause  of  the  world's  evangelization.  "  The  field  is  the  world," 
we  may  say  with  (juite  as  much  solemnit}'  and  emphasis  in  this  view, 
as  when  we  speak  of  it  under  the  other.  As  the  kingdom  of  God 
is  not  restricted  in  its  conception  to  any  geographical  limits  or 
national  distinctions,  but  has  regard  to  mankind  universally;  so 
neither  it  is  to  be  thought  of  as  penetrating  the  organization  of 
man's  nature  onlj-  to  a  certain  extent,  taking  up  one  part  of  it  into 
its  constitution  and  leaving  another  hopelessl}'  on  the  outside;  on 
the  contraiy  it  must  show  itself  sufficient  to  engross  the  whole. 
Nothing  reallj'  human  can  be  counted  legitimately  bej^ond  its  scope ; 
for  the  grand  test  of  its  truth  is  its  absolute  adequacy-  to  cover  the 
field  of  human  existence  at  all  points,  its  Catholicity  in  the  sense 
of  measuring  the  entire  length  and  breadth  of  man's  nature.  Either 
it  is  no  redemption  for  humanity  at  all,  or  no  constituent  interest 
of  humanity  ma}'  be  taken  as  extrinsical  ever  to  its  rightful  domain. 

It  will  not  do  to  talk  of  any  such  interest  as  profane,  in  the  sense 
of  an  inward  and  abiding  contrariety  between  it  and  the  sacredness 
of  religion;  as  though  religion  might  be  regarded  as  one  simph' 
among  other  co-ordinate  forms  of  life,  with  a  certain  territory  as- 
signed to  it  and  all  beyond  foreign  from  its  control.  What  is  reall}^ 
human,  a  constitutive  part  of  the  original  nature  of  man,  may  be 
indeed  profaned,  b}-  being  turned  aside  from  its  right  use  and  end, 
but  can  never  be  in  itself  profane.  On  the  contrary,  if  religion  be 
the  perfection  of  this  nature,  all  that  belongs  to  it  must  not  only 


380  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1814-1853  [DiV.  IX 

admit  but  require  Jin  inward  union  with  religion,  in  order  to  its 
own  completion ;  and  as  Christianity  is  the  end  and  consummation 
of  all  religion  besides,  it  follows  that  such  completion,  in  the  case 
of  every  human  interest,  can  be  fully  gained  at  last  only  in  the 
bosom  of  its  all  comprehensive  life.  The  mission  of  Christianity 
is,  not  to  denounce  and  reject  any  order  of  life  belonging  to  primi- 
tive humanity  as  intrinsically  hostile  to  God,  (that  would  be  a 
species  of  Manichean  fanaticism)  ;  nor  j^et  to  acknowledge  it  simpl}^ 
as  a  different  and  foreign  jurisdiction;  but  plainly  to  appropriate 
ever}-  order  to  itself,  by  so  mastering  its  inmost  sense  as  to  set  it 
in  full  harmony  with  the  deeper  and  broader  law  of  its  own  presence. 

Art,  science,  commerce,  politics,  for  instance,  as  they  enter  essen- 
tially into  the  idea  of  man,  must  all  come  within  the  range  of  this 
mission ;  and  so  far  as  it  falls  short  of  their  full  occupation  at  any 
given  time  with  the  power  of  its  own  divine  principle,  it  must  be 
regarded  as  a  work  still  in  process  only  towards  its  proper  end ; 
just  as  really  as  the  work  of  outward  missions  is  thus  in  process 
also,  and  short  of  its  end,  so  long  as  any  part  of  the  world  remains 
shrouded  in  pagan  darkness.  It  is  fully  as  needful  for  the  complete 
and  final  triumph  of  the  Gospel  among  men,  that  it  should  subdue 
the  arts,  music,  painting,  sculpture,  poetry,  &c.,  to  its  sceptre,  and 
fill  them  with  its  spirit  as  that  it  should  conquer  in  similar  style 
the  tribes  of  Africa  or  the  islands  of  the  South  Sea.  Every  region 
of  science,  as  it  belongs  to  man's  nature,  belongs  also  to  the  empire 
of  Christ;  and  this  can  never  be  complete,  as  long  as  any  such 
region  ma}^  remain  unoccupied  by  its  power.  Philosophy  too, 
whose  province  and  need  it  is  to  bring  all  the  sciences  to  unity  and 
thus  to  fathom  their  deepest  and  last  sense,  falls  of  right  under  the 
same  view.  Some  indeed  i^retend,  that  Christianity  and  philosoph}' 
have  properly  nothing  to  do  with  each  other;  that  the  first  puts 
contempt  on  the  secondj  that  the  second  in  truth  is  a  mere  ignis 
fatiius  at  most,  which  all  good  Christians  are  bound  to  abhor  and 
avoid. 

But  if  so,  it  must  be  considered  against  humanit}^  to  specu- 
late at  all  in  this  way ;  whereas  the  whole  history  of  the  world 
proves  the  contrary;  and  it  lies  also  in  the  very  idea  of  science, 
that  knowledge  in  this  form  should  be  sought  as  the  necessary  com- 
pletion of  it  under  other  forms.  To  pronounce  philosophy  against 
humanity,  is  virtually  to  place  science  universally  under  the  like 
condemnation.  And  so  to  treat  it  as  profane  or  impertinent  for  the 
kingdom  of  God,  is  in  truth  to  set  all  science  in  similar  relation ; 
the  very  result,  to  which  fanaticism  has  often  shown  itself  prone  to 


Chap.  XXXII]  catholicity  381 

run.  But  what  can  be  well  more  monstrous  than  that;  or  more 
certainl}'  fatal  in  the  end  to  the  cause  of  Christianit}^?  Philosophy, 
like  science  and  art  in  other  forms,  is  of  one  hirth  with  man's  nature 
itself;  and  if  Christianity  be  the  last  true  and  full  sense  of  this 
nature,  it  is  not  possible  that  it  should  be  either  willing  or  able  to 
shut  it  out  from  its  realm.  We  might  as  soon  dream  of  a  like  ex- 
clusion towards  the  emi)ire  of  China;  for  it  is  hard  to  see  surely 
how  the  idea  of  humanit}'  would  suffer  a  more  serious  truncation 
bj'  this,  than  !)}•  being  doomed  to  fall  short  of  its  own  proper 
actualization  the  other  way.  The  world  without  China  would  be 
quite  as  near  perfection,  we  think,  as  the  world  without  philosoph}'. 
Its  full  redemption  and  salvation,  the  grand  object  of  the  Gospel, 
and  so  the  necessar}-  work  and  mission  of  Christianity  among  men, 
include,  it  is  plain,  both  interests,  and  we  have  no  right  ever  to 
magnify  the  one  at  the  cost  of  the  other. 

Such  being  the  general  nature  of  this  missionary  work  intensively 
taken,  we  may  see  at  once  how  far  it  is  still  from  its  own  proper 
end  even  in  the  case  of  the  nominally  Christian  world  itself  It  is 
melanchol}-  to  think,  that  after  nearly  two  thousand  years  which 
have  passed  since  Christ  came,  so  large  a  part  of  the  human  race 
should  still  be  found  beyond  the  line  of  Christianity  outwardly  con- 
sidered. But  it  is  not  always  properly  laid  to  heart,  that  the  short- 
coming in  the  other  view,  the  distance  between  idea  and  fact  within 
this  line,  is  to  sa}-  the  least  no  less  serious  and  great.  If  when  we 
think  of  the  millions  of  Africa,  India,  and  China,  we  must  feel  that 
the  Grospel  thus  far  has  been  only  in  progress  towards  its  full 
triumphant  manifestations  in  the  world;  this  feeling  must  prevail 
no  less,  when  we  direct  our  attention  to  the  moral,  scientific,  and 
political  fields,  which  all  around  us  appear  in  like  barbarous  estrange- 
ment from  its  inward  law.  In  this  view,  even  more  emphaticall}- 
tiian  in  the  other,  may  we  not  adopt  the  language,  Heb.  ii :  8 : 
'"We  see  not  yet  aU  thinfj><  put  in  subjection  under  him" — though 
nothing  less  than  such  universal  subjection  be  needed  to  carry  out 
the  first  sense  of  man's  life,  (Gen.  i:  26,  Ps.  viii :  6-8),  and  so 
nothing  less  can  satisf}-  the  enterprise  of  his  redemption  ? 

Alas, how  quite  the  reverse  of  this  are  we  made  to  behold  in  every 
direction.  Not  alone  do  the  wild  powers  of  nature  refuse  to  obey 
at  once  the  will  of  the  saints,  but  it  is  onlj*  a  most  partial  dominion 
at  best  also  that  the  Christian  principle  has  yet  won  for  itself  even 
in  the  moral  world.  Whole  territories  and  spheres  of  human  life 
here  liave  never  yet  been  brought  to  an}-  true  inward  reconciliation 
and  union  with  the  life  of  the  Church.     Romanism  has  pretended 


382  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

indeed  to  bring  them  into  subjection;  but  so  far  as  the  pretension 
has  3'et  been  made  good,  it  has  been  ever  in. a  more  or  less  outward 
and  violent  way  onl^-;  whereas  the  problem  from  its  very  nature 
requires  that  the  relation  should  be  one  of  free,  loving  harmony  and 
not  one  of  force.  Protestantism,  seeing  this,  has  in  large  measure 
.openl}^  surrendered  the  w^hole  point ;  falling  over  thus  to  the  oppo- 
site extreme ;  carrying  the  doctrine  of  freedom  so  far,  that  it  is 
made  not  onl}'  to  allow,  but  even  to  justify,  in  many  cases,  a  full 
dissociation  of  certain  spheres  of  humanit}'  from  the  rightful  sov- 
ereignity of  religion.  In  our  own  time  especially  there  is  a  fearful 
tendency  at  work  under  this  form,  which  rests  throughout  on  the 
rationalistic  assumption  that  Christianity  has  no  right  to  the  uni- 
versal lordship  of  man's  life,  and  which  aims  at  nothing  less  accord- 
ingly than  the  emancipation  of  all  secular  interest  from  its  juris- 
diction. It  has  become  a  widely  settled  maxim,  we  may  say,  that 
w'hole  vast  regions  of  humanity  lie  naturally  and  of  right  on  the 
outside  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  strictl3"  taken,  and  that  it  must  ever 
be  wrong  to  think  of  stretching  its  authority  over  them  in  an}"  real 
form. 

Hence  we  find  the  arts  and  sciences  to  a  great  extent  sun- 
dered from  the  idea  of  the  Church  as  such;  and  more  particularly 
politics  and  religion  are  taken  to  be  totally  separate  spheres.  It  is 
coming  to  seem  indeed  a  sort  of  moral  truism,  too  plain  for  even 
children  or  fools  to  call  in  question,  that  the  total  disruption  of 
Church  and  State,  involving  the  full  independence  of  all  political 
interests  over  against  the  authority  of  the  new  constitution  of 
things  brought  to  pass  in  Christ,  is  the  onl}^  order  that  can  at  all 
deserve  to  be  respected  as  rational,  or  that  maj-  be  taken  as  at  all 
answerable  to  man's  nature  and  God's  will.  And  yet  what  a  con- 
ception is  that  of  Christianit}^,  w^hich  excludes  from  its  organic 
jurisdiction  the  broad  vast  conception  of  the  Commonwealth  or 
State ! 

We  may  say,  if  we  please,  that  such  dissociation  is  wise  and 
necessary  for  the  time  being,  and  as  an  interimistic,  transitional 
stadium  in  a  process  that  looks  towards  a  far  difiTerent  ulterior  end ; 
but  surely  we  are  bound  to  pronounce  it  always  in  its  own  nature 
wrong,  and  false  to  the  true  idea  of  the  Gospel ;  something  there- 
fore which  marks  not  the  perfection,  but  the  serious  imperfection, 
rather,  of  the  actual  state  of  the  world.  The  imagination  that  the 
last  answer  to  the  great  question  of  the  right  relation  of  the  Church 
to  the  State,  is  to  be  found  in  an}-  theory  by  which  the  one  is  set 
completely  on  the  outside  of  the  other,  must  be  counted  essentially 


Chap.  XXXIIJ  catholicity  383 

anti-Christian.  Christianity  owns  the  proper  freedom  of  man's 
nature  under  its  common  secular  aspects,  and  can  never  be  satisfied 
with  the  viok'ut  subjuijation  of  it  in  a  merel}'  outward  way;  but  it 
recjuires  at  the  same  time  that  this  shall  be  brought  to  bow  to  its 
authority  without  force ;  and  it  can  never  acknowledge  any  freedom 
as  legitiniMto  and  true,  that  may  atteet  to  hold  under  a  different  form. 
So  far  shoit  then  as  its  actual  reign  in  the  woi'ld  is  found  to  fail  of 
this  universal  supremacy  over  all  the  interests  of  life,  it  must  be 
regarded  as  not  having  yet  reached  its  proper  end,  as  being  still  in 
the  midst  of  an  unfulfilled  mission. 

Of  the  two  parables  setting  forth  the  progressive  character  of  the 
kingdom  of  God,  Matth.  xiii:  31-33,  it  is  not  unnatural  to  under- 
stand the  first,  that  of  the  mustard  seed  namely,  as  referring  mainly 
to  its  extensive  growth,  while  the  other,  that  of  the  leaven  hid  in 
three  measures  of  meal,  is  taken  to  have  respect  rather  to  this  in- 
tensive growth,  by  which  the  new  divine  nature  of  Christianity  is 
reciuired  to  penetrate  and  pervade  always  more  and  more  the  sub- 
stance of  our  general  human  life  itself,  with  a  necessity'  that  can 
never  stop  till  the  whole  mass  be  wrought  into  the  same  complexion. 
It  is  certain  at  all  events,  that  the  parables  together  refer  to  both 
forms  of  increase;  for  the  mere  taking  of  volume  outwardly-  is  just 
as  little  sufficient  of  itself  to  complete  the  conception  of  organic 
growth  in  the  world  of  grace,  as  it  is  notoriously  to  complete  the 
same  conception  in  the  world  of  nature.  The  taking  of  volume 
must  be  joined  in  either  case  with  a  parallel  progressive  taking  of 
answerable  inward  form.  The  growth  of  the  mustard  seed  itself 
involves  this  two-fold  process ;  for  it  consists  not  simpl}-  in  the  ac- 
cumulation of  size,  but  in  the  assumption  at  the  same  time  of  a 
certain  type  of  vegetable  life  throughout  the  entire  compass  of  its 
leaves  and  branches. 

It  is,  however,  more  particularly  the  image  of  leaven,  that 
serves  to  bring  out  this  last  side  of  the  subject  in  all  its  force, 
and  that  might  seem  accordingly  to  be  speciall}-  designed  for  this 
purpose,  in  distinction  from  all  regard  to  the  other  more  out- 
ward view.  The  parallel,  as  in  the  case  of  all  the  New  Testament 
parables,  is  no  mere  fancy  or  conceit,  but  rests  on  a  real  analogy,  b3'^ 
whicli  a  lower  truth  or  fact  in  the  sphere  of  nature  is  found  to  fore- 
shadow, and  as  it  were  anticipate  a  higher  one  in  the  sphere  of  the 
spirit.  Leaven  is  a  new  force  introduced  into  the  mass  of  meal, 
ditfereut  from  it,  and  3et  having  with  it  such  inward  affinity  that  it 
cannot  fail  to  become  one  with  it,  and  in  doing  so  to  raise  it  at  the 
same  time  into  its  own  higher  nature.     This,  however,  comes  to 


384  AT    MERCEESBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

pass,  not  abruptlj^  iioi'  violently,  but  silentl}^  and  graduallj,  and  in 
such  a  wa}'  that  the  action  of  the  meal  itself  is  made  to  assist  and 
carry  forward  the  work  of  the  leaven  towards  its  proper  end.  The 
work  thus  is  a  process,  the  growing  of  the  new  principle  continually 
more  and  more  into  the  nature  of  the  meal,  till  the  whole  is  leavened. 
And  so  it  is  with  the  new  order  of  life  revealed  through  the  Gospel. 
Involving  as  it  does  from  the  start  a  higher  form  of  existence  for 
humanity'  as  a  whole  (new  and  yet  of  kindred  relation  to  the  old), 
it  is  still  not  at  once  the  transformation  of  it,  in  a  whole  and  sudden 
way,  into  such  a  higher  state.  It  must  grow  itself  progressiA^ely 
into  our  nature,  taking  this  up  by  degrees  into  its  own  sphere  and 
bringing  out  thus  at  the  same  time  its  own  full  significance  and 
power,  in  order  to  take  possession  of  our  nature  at  all  in  any  real 
way. 

In  the  case  of  the  single  believer  accordingly  it  is  like  leaven, 
a  power  commensurate  from  the  first  with  the  entire  mass  of  his 
being,  but  needing  always  time  and  development  for  its  full  actual 
occupation;  and  so  also  in  the  case  of  our  human  life  as  a  social  or 
moral  whole.  Christianity  is  from  the  very  outset  potentially  the 
reconstruction  or  new  creation  of  man's  universal  nature  (including 
all  spheres  and  tracts  of  existence  which  of  right  belong  to  this 
idea),  just  as  really  as  a  deposit  of  leaven  carries  in  it  from  the  first 
the  power  of  transformation  for  the  whole  mass  of  meal  in  which  it 
has  been  hid ;  but  it  is  like  leaven  again  also  in  this  respect,  that 
the  force  which  it  has  potentially  needs  a  continuous  process  of  in- 
ward action  to  gain  in  a  real  way  finall}^  its  own  end.  There  is  an 
inner  mission  in  its  way  here,  which  grows  with  as  much  necessitj^ 
out  of  its  relation  to  the  world,  as  the  mission  it  has  to  overshadow 
the  whole  earth  with  its  branches,  and  which  it  is  urged  too  with 
just  as  much  necessity,  we  may  add,  to  carry  forward  and  fulfil. 
The  prayer.  Thy  kingdom  come.,  has  regard  to  the  one  object  quite 
as  much  as  to  the  other.  This  comes  by  the  depth  of  its  entrance 
into  the  substance  of  humanity,  as  well  as  bj^  the  length  and  breadth 
of  it,  as  a  pi-ocess  of  intensification  no  less  than  a  process  of  diffu- 
sion. 

And  it  deserves  to  be  well  considered,  that  these  two  processes 
are  not  just  two  different  necessities,  set  one  by  the  side  of  the 
other  in  an  external  way ;  that  they  are  to  be  viewed  rather  as  dif- 
ferent sides  onl}^  of  one  and  the  same  necessity ;  since  each  enters 
as  a  condition  into  the  fulfilment  of  the  other,  and  neither  can  be 
rightly  regarded  without  a  due  regard  to  both.  The  power  of 
Christianity  in  particular  to  take  possession  of  the  world  exten- 


Chap.  XXXII]  catholicity  385 

siA'ely,  depends  at  last  on  the  entrance  it  has  gained  into  the  life  of 
the  world  intensively,  so  far  as  it  may  have  alreadj'  come  to  prevail. 
And  it  ma}'  well  be  doubted,  whether  it  can  exev  complete  its  out- 
ward mission,  in  the  reduction  of  all  nations  to  the  obedience  of 
the  Gospel,  without  at  least  a  somewhat  parallel  accomplishment 
of  its  inward  mission,  in  the  actual  Christianization  of  the  or- 
ganic sul)stance  of  humanity,  to  an  extent  far  beyond  all  that  is 
now  presented  within  the  bounds  of  the  outward  Church.  The 
leaven  masters  the  volume  of  the  meal  in  which  it  is  set,  only  b}' 
working  itself  full}'  into  its  inmost  nature.  The  conversion  of 
the  world  in  the  same  wa}'  is  to  be  expected,  not  just  from  the 
multiplication  of  individual  converts  to  the  Christian  faith,  till  it 
shall  become  thus  of  one  measure  with  the  earth,  but  as  the  re- 
sult rather  of  an  actual  taking  up  at  the  same  time  of  the  living 
economy  of  the  world  more  and  more  into  the  Christian  sphere. 
The  imagination  that  the  outward  mission  here  may  be  carried 
through  first,  and  the  inner  mission  left  behind  as  a  work  for  future 
leisure,  is  completely  preposterous.  The  problems  then  which  fall 
to  this  last  have  a  direct  and  most  important  bearing  always  on 
the  successful  prosecution  also  of  the  object  proposed  to  the  first. 
To  make  the  reign  of  Christ  more  deep  and  inward  for  the  life  of 
the  Avorld,  is  at  the  same  time  to  prepare  the  way  correspondingly 
for  its  becoming  more  broad  and  wide.  The  proper  solution  of  a 
great  theoretic  questiou,  lying  at  the  foundation  of  the  Christian 
life,  and  drawing  after  it  consequences  that  reach  over  nations 
and  centuries,  may  be  of  more  account  for  the  ultimate  issues  of 
history,  than  the  present  evangelization  of  a  whole  continent  like 
Africa.  At  this  very  time  it  is  of  more  account  by  far,  that  the  power 
of  Christianity  should  be  wrought  intensively  into  the  whole  civili- 
zation of  this  country  (the  weight  of  which  prospectively  no  one 
can  fully  estimate) ;  that  it  should  have  in  it  not  merely  an  out- 
ward and  nominal  sovereignty,  but  be  brought  also  fully  to  actuate 
and  inform  its  interior  collective  life,  filling  its  institutions  as  tlieir 
very  soul,  and  leavening  them  througliout  into  its  own  divine  com- 
plexion;  that  it  should  solve  the  problem  of  Church  and  State  in 
a  really  Christian  waj%  so  as  to  bind  them  into  one  with  free  inward 
reconciliation,  instead  of  throwing  them  hopelessly  apart ;  that  it 
should  take  possessiou  truly  of  the  art  and  literature  of  the  country, 
its  commerce  and  science  and  philosophy  as  well  as  its  politics, 
passing  by  no  tract  of  humanity  as  profane  and  yet  acknowledging 
no  tract  as  legitimate  on  the  outside  of  its  own  sjihere  and  sway: 
all  this,  we  say,  is  an  object  far  more  near  to  the  liiial   redemption 


386  AT   MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

of  the  world,  and  of  far  more  need  at  this  time  (if  it  might  be  ac- 
complished), for  the  bringing  in  of  the  millenium  than  the  conver- 
sion of  all  India  or  China.  The  life  of  the  Church  is  the  salvation 
of  the  world. 

From  the  whole  subject  we  draw  in  conclusion  the  following  re- 
flections : 

1.  From  the  view  now  taken  of  the  proper  Catholicism  or  whole- 
ness of  Christianit}^,  we  may  see  at  once  that  it  by  no  means  implies 
the  necessary  salvation  of  all  men.  This  false  conclusion  is  drawn 
by  Uuiversalists,  only  by  confounding  the  idea  of  the  whole  with 
the  notion  of  all ;  w^hereas  in  truth  they  are  of  altogether  different 
force  and  sense.  As  hundreds  of  blossoms  may  fall  and  perish 
from  a  tree,  without  impairing  the  true  idea  of  its  whole  life  as  this 
is  reached  finally  in  the  fruit  towards  which  all  tends  from  the  be- 
ginning, so  may  we  conceive  also  of  multitudes  of  men  born  into 
the  world,  the  natural  posterity  of  Adam,  and  coming  short  of  the 
proper  sense  of  their  own  nature  as  this  is  completed  in  Christ, 
without  any  diminution  whatever  of  its  true  universalness  under 
such  form.  Even  in  the  case  of  our  natural  humanity,  the  whole 
in  which  it  consists  is  by  no  means  of  one  measure  merely  with  the 
number  of  persons  included  in  it;  it  is  potentially  far  more  than 
this,  being  determined  to  its  actual  extent  by  manifold  limitations 
that  have  no  necessity  in  itself;  for  there  might  be  thousands  be- 
sides born  into  the  world,  which  are  never  born  into  it  in  fact. 

Why  then  should  it  be  thought  that  the  higher  form  of  this  same 
humanity  which  is  reached  by  Christ,  and  without  which  the  other 
must  always  fall  short  of  its  own  destination,  in  order  to  be  full 
and  universal  in  its  own  character,  must  take  up  into  itself  literally 
all  men?  Why  may  not  thousands  fail  to  be  born  permanently^  into 
this  higher  power  of  our  universal  nature,  just  as  thousands  fail  of 
a  full  birth  also  into  its  first  natural  power,  without  any  excluding 
limitation  in  the  character  of  the  power  itself?  Those  who  thus 
fail  in  the  case  of  the  second  creation  fail  at  the  same  time  of  course 
of  the  true  end  of  their  own  being,  and  so  may  be  said  to  perish 
more  reallj-  than  those  wdio  fall  short  of  an  actual  human  life  in  the 
first  form;  3'et  it  by  no  means  follows  from  this  again  that  such 
failure  must  involve  annihilation  or  a  return  to  non-existence.  It 
maybe  a  continuation  of  existence;  but  of  existence  under  a  curse, 
morally  crippled  and  crushed,  and  hopelessly  debarred  from  the 
sphere  in  which  it  was  required  to  become  complete.  To  be  thus 
out  of  Christ  is  for  the  subjects  of  such  failure  indeed  an  exclusion 
from  the  true  and  full  idea  of  humanity,  the  glorious  orb  of  man's 


Chap.  XXXIl]  catholicity  38t 

life  in  its  last  and  only  absolute  and  eternally  perfect  form ;  l)ut  for 
this,  life  itself  involves  no  limitation  or  defect.  The  orb  is  at  all 
points  round  and  full. 

2.  As  the  wholeness  in  question  is  not  one  with  the  numerical 
all  of  the  natural  posterity  of  Adam,  so  neither  may  it  be  taken 
again  as  answerable  simply  to  any  less  given  num])er,  selected  out 
of  the  other  all  for  the  i)urpose  of  salvation.  This  idea  of  an 
abstract  election,  underlying  the  whole  plan  of  redemption,  and  cir- 
cumscribing consequently  the  real  virtue  of  all  its  provisions  b}' 
such  mechanical  limitation,  is  in  all  material  respects  the  exact 
counterpart  of  that  scheme  of  universal  salvation  which  has  just 
been  noticed.  It  amounts  to  nothing,  so  far  as  the  nature  of  the 
redemption  is  concerned,  that  it  is  made  to  be  for  all  men  in  one 
case  and  onlv  for  a  certain  part  of  them  in  the  other.  In  both 
cases  a  mere  notional  all,  a  fixed  finite  abstraction,  is  substituted 
for  the  idea  of  an  infinite  concrete  whole,  and  the  result  is  a  me- 
chanical ah  extra  salvation,  instead  of  a  true  organic  redemption, 
unfolding  itself  as  the  power  of  a  new  life  from  within.  The  proper 
wholeness  of  Christianity  is  more  a  great  .deal  than  any  arithmetical 
sum,  i)rcviously  made  up  under  another  form,  for  its  comprehension 
and  use.  It  implies  parts  of  course,  and  in  this  wa}' at  last  definite 
number  and  measure,  and  so  in  the  case  of  its  subjects  also  a  veri- 
table "election  of  grace;"  but  it  makes  all  the  difference  in  the 
world,  whether  the  parts  are  taken  to  the  factoral  making  up  of  the 
whole,  or  come  into  view  as  its  product  and  growth,  whether  their 
number  and  measure  be  settled  by  an  outward  election  or  deter- 
mined by  an  election  that  springs  from  within.  A  tree  has  a  definite 
number  of  branches  and  leaves — so  many,  and  not  more  nor  less; 
but  who  would  think  of  looking  for  the  ground  of  this  be3'ond  the 
nature  of  the  tree  itself,  and  the  conditions  that  rule  the  actual  de- 
velopment of  its  lifey  The  law  of  determination  here  is  something 
very  di  tie  rent  from  the  law  that  determines  the  imitation  of  a  tree 
in  wax  or  the  composition  of  a  watch.  So  the  election  of  grace  in 
the  case  of  the  new  creation  holds  in  Christ,  and  not  in  any  view 
taken  of  liumanity  aside  from  his  person. 

8.  The  Catholic  or  universal  character  of  the  Ciiurch  tiius,  we 
may  easily  see  farther,  does  not  dei)end  nt  any  time  upon  its  merely 
numerical  extent,  whether  this  be  large  or  small.  An  organic 
whole  continues  the  same  (the  mustard  seed  for  instance),  through 
all  stages  of  its  development,  tliough  for  a  long  time  its  actual 
volume  :ind  form  may  faW  far  short  of  what  they  are  destined  to  be 
in  tlie  end,  :ind  must  be  too  in  order  to  fulfil  comi)letely  its  inward 


388  AT    MERCERSBURG    PROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

sense.  So  the  ivhole  fact  of  Christianit}-  gathers  itself  up  funda- 
mentally into  the  single  person  of  Christ,  and  is  found  to  grow 
forth  from  this  literall}-  as  its  root.  The  mj^ster}'  of  the  Incarna- 
tion involves  in  itself  potentially-  a  new  order  of  existence  for  the 
world,  which  is  as  universal  in  its  own  nature  as  the  idea  of  hu- 
manity, and  by  which  only  it  is  possible  for  this  to  be  advanced 
Anally  to  its  own  full  and  perfect  realization.  Those  who  affect  to 
find  this  unintelligibly  m3^stical  and  transcendental,  would  do  well 
to  consider  that  every  higher  order  of  existence,  even  in  the  sphere 
of  nature  itself,  carries  in  it  a  precisely  similar  relation  to  the  mass 
of  matter,  surrounding  it  under  a  lower  form,  which  it  is  appointed 
to  take  up  and  transform  b}-  assimilation  into  its  own  superior  t3'pe. 
The  Second  Adam  is  the  root  of  the  full  tree  of  humanity  in  a  far 
profounder  sense  than  the  First;  and  it  is  onW  as  the  material  of  it 
naturally  considered  comes  to  be  incorporated  into  this,  that  it  can 
be  said  to  be  raised  into  the  same  sphere  at  all ;  its  relation  to  it 
previously  being  at  best  but  that  of  the  unleavened  meal  to  the  new 
power  at  work  in  its  bosom,  or  that  of  the  unassimilated  element 
to  the  buried  grain  which,  is  destined  by  means  of  it  to  wax  into 
the  proportions  of  a  great  plant  or  tree.  So  too  from  the  root  up- 
wards, from  the  fountain  onwards,  the  new  order  of  life,  which  we 
call  the  Church  or  the  Kingdom  of  God,  remains  throughout  one 
and  Catholic.  It  owns  no  co-ordination  with  the  idea  of  man's  life 
under  any  different  form.  It  is  the  ultimate,  universal  sense  of 
man's  nature,  the  entire  sphere  of  its  perfection,  the  whole  and  only 
law  of  its  final  consummation.  With  this  character,  however,  the 
Church  can  never  be  content  to  rest  in  a  merely  partial  revelation 
of  its  power  among  men,  but  is  urged  coutinually  by  its  very  nature 
to  take  actual  possession  of  all  the  world,  as  we  have  already  seen, 
both  extensivel}^  and  intensively.  Here  we  have  of  course  the  idea 
of  a  process,  as  something  involved  in  the  very  conception  itself 
which  we  have  in  hand.  As  an  article  of  faith,  the  Catholicity  of 
the  Church  expresses  a  present  attribute  in  all  ages;  it  is  not  drawn 
simply  from  the  future,  as  a  proleptical  declaration  of  what  is  to 
be  true  hereafter,  though  it  be  not  true  now;  the  ivJwIe  presence 
of  the  new  creation  is  lodged  in  its  constitution  from  the  start,  and 
through  all  centuries.  But  who  will  pretend  that  this  has  ever  yet 
had  its  proper  actualization  in  the  living  world?  The  Catholic 
quality  and  force  of  Christianity  go  always  along  with  it;  but  in- 
numerable hindrances  are  at  hand  to  obstruct  and  oppose  its  action ; 
and  its  full  victory  in  this  view  accordingly,  as  well  as  in  the  view 
of  its  other  attributes,  is  to  be  expected  only  hereafter.     To  believe 


Chap.  XXXII]  catholicity  389 

in  the  Church  as  universal  or  Catholic,  it  is  not  necessary  that  we 
should  see  it  in  full  actual  possession  of  the  whole  world ;  for  when 
has  that  been  the  case  yet,  and  what  less  would  it  be  than  the  pres- 
ence of  the  millenium  in  the  most  absolute  sense?  It  is  to  believe, 
however,  that  the  whole. power  by  which  this  is  to  be  reached  is 
already  at  Avork  in  its  constitution,  and  that  its  action  looks  and 
strives  alwa3's  towards  such  end,  as  the  only  result  that  can  fairly 
express  its  necessary  inward  meaning  and  truth. 

4.  The  Catholicity  of  the  Church,  as  now  described,  involves  of 
course  the  idea  also  of  its  unity  and  exclusiveness.  As  being  the 
true  whole  of  humanity,  it  can  admit  no  rival  or  co-ordinate  form 
of  life  (much  less  any  more  deep  and  so  more  comprehensive  than 
itself),  and  it  must  necessaril}'  exclude  thus  as  false  and  contrary 
to  humanity  itself  all  that  may  affect  to  represent  this  beyond  its 
own  range  and  sphere. 

5.  No  other  order  of  human  life  can  have  the  same  character.  It 
is  not  of  the  nature  of  the  civil  state  or  commonwealth  to  be  thus 
Catholic;  and  still  less  does  it  belong  to  any  single  constituent 
sphere  of  such  political  organization,  separatel}'  taken.  Even  re- 
ligion, Avhich  claims  to  be  the  last  sense  of  man's  life  from  the  start, 
and  which  is  therefore  in  cousistenc}'  bound  and  urged  under  all 
forms  to  assert  some  sort  of  whole  or  universal  title  in  its  own 
favor,  is  found  to  be  in  truth  unequal  always  to  this  high  pretension, 
till  it  comes  to  its  own  proper  and  only  sufficient  completion  in 
Christ.  Xo  sj-stem  of  Paganism,  of  course,  could  ever  be  Catholic. 
So  a  Catholic  Mohammedanism  is  a  contradiction  in  terms.  More 
than  this,  it  never  lay  in  the  nature  of  Judaism  itself,  Avith  all  its 
truth,  to  take  up  into  itself  the  whole  life  of  the  world.  To  do  so, 
it  must  pass  into  a  higher  form,  and  so  lose  its  own  distinctive 
character,  in  Christianity.  No  faith  could  say  truly  :  "  I  believe  in 
a  Hoi}-  Catholic  Judaism," — even  if  all  nations  were  brought  to 
submit  to  circumcision  before  its  e3'es;  for  it  is  not  in  the  power  of 
Judaism  as  such  to  possess  and  represent  in  full  harmony  the  whole 
idea  of  humanity ;  and  what  is  thus  not  in  itself  possible,  and  so 
not  true,  can  never  be  the  object  reall}-  of  faith  in  its  true  form. 
Judaism  is  not  the  deepest  power  of  man's  life  in  the  form  of  re- 
ligion, and  for  this  reason  alone  it  must  be  found  in  the  end  a  com- 
paratively partial  and  relative  power;  leaving  room  for  a  diti'erent 
consciousness  over  against  itself,  with  a  certain  amount  of  legiti- 
macy and  right  too  in  the  face  of  its  narrow  claims,  under  the  gen- 
eral form  of  Gentilism.  This  contradiction  is  brought  to  an  end 
in  Christ  (the  true   Peace  of  the  world,  as  we   have  it,  Eph.  ii: 


390  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.   IX 

14-18),  in  and  bj-  whom  religion,  the  inmost  fact  of  man's  nature, 
is  carried  at  once  to  its  last  and  most  perfect  significance,  and  so 
to  the  lowest  profound  of  this  nature  at  the  same  time;  with  power 
thus  to  take  up  the  entire  truth  of  its  own  universally  comprehen- 
sive law ;  healing  its  disorders,  restoring  its  harmony,  and  raising  it 
finally  to  immortalit}'  and  glory.  Only  what  is  in  this  way  deeper 
than  all  besides,  can  be  at  the  same  time  trul}-  Catholic,  of  one 
measure  with  the  whole  compass  and  contents  of  our  universal  life. 

6.  As  no  other  form  of  religion  can  be  Catholic,  so  it  lies  in  the 
very  nature  of  Christianity,  as  here  shown,  to  have  this  character. 
It  must  be  Catholic.  Conceive  of  it,  or  try  to  exhibit  it,  as  in  its 
constitution  less  comprehensive  than  the  whole  nature  of  man,  or 
as  not  sufficient  to  take  this  up  universally^  into  its  sphere  of  re- 
demption, and  you  wrong  it  in  its  inmost  idea.  It  must  be  com- 
mensurate with  the  need  and  miser}^  of  the  world  as  a  whole,  or 
come  under  its  own  reproach  of  having  begun  to  build  where  it 
has  no  power  to  finish.  Sa}-,  that  it  is  for  all  mankind,  except  the 
Malay  race  or  the  many  millions  of  China;  and  our  whole  sense  at 
once  revolts  against  the  declaration  as  monstrous.  Substitute  for 
such  geographical  limitation  the  notion  of  an  invisible  line,  in  the 
form  of  an  outward  unconditional  decree,  setting  a  part  of  the  race 
on  one  side  in  a  state  of  real  salvability,  and  another  part  of  it  on 
the  other  side  in  a  state  of  necessary  reprobation,  the  atonement 
being  in  its  own  nature  available  or  of  actual  force  in  one  direction 
only  and  not  in  the  other;  and  the  spirit  of  the  whole  New  Testa- 
ment again  rises  into  solemn  protest.  Under  the  same  general 
view  again  it  is  monstrous,  as  we  have  already  seen,  to  conceive  of 
a  line  being  interposed  in  the  way  of  Christianity,  in  the  interior 
organism  of  man's  general  nature  itself;  leaving  one  tract  of  it  free 
to  the  occupancy  of  this  new  power,  but  requiring  it  to  stop  on  the 
frontier  limits  of  another  (politics,  trade,  science,  art,  philosophy); 
as  though  it  were  deep  enough  and  broad  enough  to  take  in  a  part 
of  the  great  fact  of  humanity  only,  but  not  the  whole. 

Or  take  now  finally  another  form  of  limitation,  not  unfrequently 
forced  on  the  idea  of  what  is  called  the  Church  in  these  last  days. 
Suppose  a  line  cutting  the  universal  process  of  humanity,  as  a  fact 
never  at  rest  but  in  motion  always  from  infxncy  to  old  age,  into  two 
great  sections;  for  the  one  of  which  only  there  is  room  or  place  in 
the  restorational  sj^stem  here  under  consideration,  while  the  other, 
including  all  infants,  is  hopelessly  out  of  its  reach — unless  death  so 
intervene  as  to  make  that  possible  in  another  world  by  God's  power, 
which  is  not  possible  here  by  his  grace.     Is  the  thought  less  mon- 


Chap.  XXXII]  catholicity  391 

strous,  we  ask.  than  any  of  the  suppositions  which  have  gone 
before?  The  Redemption  of  the  Gospel,  as  it  is  the  absolute  end 
of  all  religion  besides  and  the  full  destiny  of  man,  cannot  be  less 
broad  in  its  own  nature  than  the  whole  life  it  proposes  to  renovate 
and  redeem.  Shall  there  be  imagined  any  room  or  place  in  this  for 
the  dark  reign  of  sin — any  island  of  the  sea,  any  remote  nation  or 
tribe,  an}-  reprobate  caste,  any  outside  moral  tract,  any  stadium  of 
infancy  or  unripe  childhood — where  the  reign  of  grace  (formed  to 
overwhelm  it,  Kom.  v:  15-21),  has  no  power  to  follow  and  make 
itself  triumphantly  felt?  That  were  indeed  to  wrong  this  kingdom 
in  its  primary  conception.  It  must  be  Catholic,  the  true  whole  of 
God's  image  in  man,  the  recovery  of  it  potentially  from  the  centre 
of  his  nature  out  to  its  farthest  peripher}-,  in  order  to  be  itself  the 
trutli  and  no  lie. 

7.  As  the  attribute  of  Catholicity  is  distinctively  characteristic 
of  the  Church  as  such,  it  follows  that  no  mere  sect  or  fragment  of 
this  can  afl'ectively  appropriate  the  title.  The  idea  of  a  sect  is,  that 
a  part  of  the  Christian  world  has  been  brought  to  cut  itself  off  from 
the  rest  of  it,  on  the  ground  of  some  particular  doctrinal  or  practical 
interest,  and  now  atlects  to  have  within  itself  under  such  isolated 
view  all  Church  powers  and  resources,  though  admitting  at  the 
same  time  the  existence  of  such  powers  and  resources  in  other 
bodies  also  with  which  it  owns  no  real  Church  union.  This  is  a 
vast  contradiction  from  the  very  start,  which  is  found  to  work  itself 
out  afterwards  into  all  sorts  of  anomaly  and  falsehood.  The  sect 
virtually  puts  itself  always  into  the  place  of  the  Church,  and  in 
spite  of  its  own  principle  of  division  is  then  forced  to  arrogate  to 
itself  the  proper  rights  and  prerogatives  of  this  divine  organization, 
as  though  it  were  identical  with  its  own  narrow  limits.  In  other 
words,  it  is  forced  to  act  as  the  whole,  when  it  is  in  truth  by  its 
own  confession  again  only  a  segment  or  part.  So  far  as  auj^  rem- 
nant of  Church  feeling  remains  (such  as  is  needed  for  instance  to 
distinguish  a  sect  in  its  oavu  mind  from  a  voluntary  confederation 
for  religious  ends),  it  must  necessarily  include  in  it  the  idea  of 
Catholicity  or  wholeness,  as  an  indestructible  quality  of  such 
thought;  for  as  it  lies  in  the  very  conception  of  a  sphere  to  be 
round,  so  precisely  does  it  lie  in  the  very  conception  of  the  Church 
to  be  Catholic,  that  is,  to  be  as  universal  in  its  constitution  as  hu- 
manity itself,  with  no  tract  or  sphere  bej'ond.  Hence  every  sect, 
in  pretending  to  be  sullicient  within  itself  for  all  church  ends,  prac- 
tically at  least  if  not  theoreticalh*,  asserts  in  its  own  favor  powers 
and  prerogatives  that  are  strictly  universal,  as  broad  as  the  idea  of 


392  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    18U-1853  [DiV.  IX 

religion  itself  under  its  most  perfect  and  absolute  form ;  an  assump- 
tion that  goes  virtually  to  deny  and  set  aside  all  similar  Church 
character  in  the  case  of  other  sects ;  for  the  case  forbids  the  notion 
of  two  or  more  systems,  separately  clothed  with  the  same  universal 
force.  Nothing  short  of  such  claim  to  exclusive  wholeness  is  in- 
volved in  the  right  each  sect  asserts  for  itself,  to  settle  doctrines, 
make  laws,  and  ply  the  keys,  in  a  wa}^  that  is  held  to  be  for  the 
bounds  of  its  own  communion  absolutely  whole  and  final.  Such 
ecclesiastical  acts  either  mean  nothing,  sink  into  the  character  of 
idle  sham,  or  else  the}^  are  set  forth  as  the  utterances  of  a  real 
Church  authority  which  are  taken  to  be  as  wide  as  the  idea  of  the 
Church  itself  Everj'  sect  in  this  way,  so  far  as  it  secretly  owns 
the  power  of  this  idea,  puts  on  in  mock  proportion  at  least  all  the 
airs  of  Rome.  But  now,  on  the  other  hand,  the  inward  posture  of 
every  sect  again,  as  such,  is  at  war  with  Catholicity,  and  urges  it 
also  to  glory  in  the  fact.  The  sect  mind  roots  itself  in  some  sub- 
jective interest,  made  to  take  the  place  of  the  true  objective  whole 
of  Christianity,  and  around  this  it  affects  to  revolve  pedantically  as 
an  independent  world  or  sphere.  Then  it  is  content  to  allow  other 
spheres  beyond  itself,  under  the  like  independent  form.  So  its 
universal  rights  and  powers,  as  we  had  them  just  before  (rights  and 
powers  that  mean  nothing  ecclesiastically  save  as  they  are  thus 
Catholic  and  not  partial),  shrink  into  given  bounds;  often  ridic- 
ulously narrow;  much  like  the  power  of  those  old  heathen  deities, 
whose  universal  sway  was  held  to  stop  short  with  the  limits  of  the 
nation  that  worshipped  at  their  shrines.  It  is  a  power  dogmatical, 
diatactical,  and  diacritical,  as  they  call  it,  which  is  of  full  conclu- 
sive force  (the  "keys  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  "),  for  one  man  but 
not  for  another  his  next  neighbor;  for  James  but  not  for  John  ;  for 
such  as  have  agreed  to  own  it  but  not  for  those  who  have  been 
pleased  to  own  a  different  Church;  universal  as  the  boundaries  of 
the  particular  denomination  from  which  it  springs,  the  numerical 
all  of  a  given  sect,  but  of  no  force  whatever  beyond  this  for  the 
mighty  whole  of  which  the  sect  is  confessedly  onl}'  a  fraction  and 
part.  Here  comes  out  of  course  the  inward  lie  of  the  sect  system, 
forcing  it  to  falsify  on  one  side  what  it  affirms  of  itself  on  another. 
Sects  are  constitutionally  uncatholic.  Commonly  the}-  dislike  even 
the  word,  and  are  apt  to  be  shy  of  it,  as  though  it  smacked  of 
Romanism,  and  as  having  a  secret  consciousness  that  it  expresses 
a  quality  of  the  Church  which  their  position  disowns.  By  this, 
however,  they  in  truth  condemn  themselves.  It  is  the  very  curse 
of  sect,  to  bear  testimony  here  to  the  true  idea  of  the  Church,  while 


Chap.  XXXII]  catholicity  393 

it  must  still  cty  out,  What  have  I  to  do  with  thee,  thou  perfection 
of  beauty!  No  sect  as  such  has  power  to  be  Catholic;  just  as 
little  at  least  as  Judaism  has  ever  had  an}-  such  power.  No  one 
can  saj'truh':  "I  believe  in  a  Holy  Catholic  Lutheranism,  Presby- 
terianism,  Methodism,  or  any  like  partial  form  of  the  Christian 
profession,"  as  he  may  say:  "I  believe  in  the  Holy  Catholic 
Church."  For  every  such  interest  owns  itself  to  be  a  part  only  of 
what  the  full  fact  of  Christianity  includes,  and  is  so  plainly  in  its 
own  nature.  How  then  should  it  ever  be  for  faith  the  whole? 
What  sect  of  those  now  existing,  Lutheran,  German  Reformed, 
Methodist,  itc,  can  seriously  expect  ever  to  take  up  the  universal 
world  of  man's  life  into  its  l)osom — unless  by  undergoing  at  last 
such  a  change  in  its  own  constitution,  as  shall  cause  the  notion  of 
sect  to  lose  itself  altogether  in  another  far  higher  and  far  more 
glorious  conception?  No  such  has  faith,  or  can  have  fixith,  in  any 
universality  of  this  sort  as  appertaining  to  itself;  for  to  have  it, 
would  be  to  feel  in  the  same  measure  a  corresponding  right  and 
necessity  to  extend  its  authority  over  the  whole  world ;  which  we 
know  is  not  the  case.  It  belongs  to  that  which  is  in  its  own  nature 
universal,  to  laj-  its  hand  imperatively  on  what  it  is  found  to  em- 
brace. Catholicit}'  asks  willing  subjects  indeed,  but  not  optional. 
It  says  not,  30U  may  be  mine,  but  3'ou  must.  The  true  whole  is  at 
the  same  time  inwardly  and  forever  necessary.  But  what  sect 
thinks  of  being  Catholic  in  this  style?  Is  it  not  counted  Catholic 
rather  in  the  sect  vocabulary,  to  waive  altogether  the  idea  of  any 
such  universal  and  necessar^^  I'ight,  and  to  sa}-  virtuall}' :  "We 
shall  be  happy  to  take  charge  of  you  if  30U  see  fit  to  be  ours — but 
if  not,  may  God  speed  you  under  some  different  conduct  and  care  ? " 
Not  only  the  sect  itself,  but  the  sect  consciousness  also,  the  sect 
mind,  is  constitutionally  fractional,  an  arbitrary-  part  which  can, 
by  no  possibility  feel  or  act  as  a  necessary  whole. 

8.  In  this  way  we  are  brought  finally  to  see  the  difference,  be- 
tween the  true  Catholicism  of  Christianity,  and  the  mock  liberalism 
which  tlie  world  is  so  fond  of  parailing  on  all  sides  in  its  name. 
This  last  appears  in  very  ditterent  forms,  though  it  ends  always  in 
the  same  general  sense.  Sometimes  it  openly  substitutes  the  idea, 
of  mere  humanism  for  that  of  Christianity,  and  so  prates  of  the- 
universal  brotherhood  of  man,  as  though  this  were  identical  with 
the  kingdom  of  God,  and  sentimental  philanthropy  the  same  thing 
with  religion.  In  another  shape,  it  is  found  preaching  toleration 
among  opposing  sects,  exhorting  them  to  lay  aside  their  asperities 
and  endeavoring,  it  ma3'  be,  to  bring  them  to  some  sort  of  free  and. 
25 


394  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

independent   confederation   (such  as  the    Peace    Societ.y  aims  at 
among  nations),  that  shall  prove  the  Church  one  in  spite  of  its 
divisions.     Then  again  it  comes  before  us  in  the  character  of  an 
open  war  against  all  sects,  calling  upon  men  to  forsake  them  as  in 
their  very  nature  vmcatholic,  and  to  range  themselves  under  the 
standard  of  general  Christianity,  with  no  creed  but  the  Bible,  and 
no  rule  for  the  use  of  it  but  private  judgment.    And  here  it  is,  that 
the  spirit  in  question  often  comes  to  look  like  an  angel  of  light,  by 
contrast  with  the  demon  of  sectarianism  which  it  pretends  to  cast 
out ;  so  that  to  many  it  seems  impossible  to  distinguish  it  from  the 
true  genius  of  Catholicity  itself,  as  we  are  taught  to  acknowledge 
this  in  the  old  Church  Creed.     But  there  is  just  this  world-wide 
difference  between  the  two,  that  the  one  is  positive  and  concrete, 
while  the  other  in  all  its  shapes  is  purely  negative  and  so  without 
real  substance  altogether.     This  is  at  once  apparent,  where  mere 
philanthropism  is  made  to  stand  for  religion ;  the  liberality  it  affects 
has  indeed  no  limits,  but  it  is  just  because  the  religion  it  represents 
has  no  contents ;  and  it  is  of  one  measure  with  the  natural  life  of  man, 
because  it  adds  nothing  to  this  and  has  no  power  whatever  to  lift  it 
into  an}'  higher  sphere.     The  same  vast  defect,  however,  goes  along 
with  the  pseudo-catholic  theory  also,  in  its  other  more  plausible 
forms.     The  universality  it  proposes  is  not  mac'e  to  rest  in  the  idea 
of  the  Church  itself,  as  the  presence  of  a  real  concrete  power  in  the 
world,  with  capacity  and  mission  to  raise  the  natural  life  of  man  to  a 
higher  order  (the  Body  of  Christ),  which  in  such  view  implies  his- 
torical substance,  carrying  in  itself  the  laws  and  conditions  of  its  own 
being.     All  this  men  may  believe,  but  have  no  ability  to  make  more 
account  of  than  the}'  may  make  of  the  natural  world.     Not  in  this 
is  it  made  to  rest,  we  say,  the  indubitable  sense  of  the  old  Creed, 
but  in  the  conception  rather  of  the  mere  outward  all  of  a  certain 
number  of  men,  or  parties  of  men  in  world  convention  represented, 
who  consent  to  be  of  one  mind  in  the  main  on  the  great  subject  of 
the  Gospel,  and  only  need  to  extend  such  voluntary  association  far 
enough  to  take  in  finally  the  entire  human  family.     All  ends  in  an 
abstraction,  which  resolves  itself  at  last  simpl}^  into  the  notion  of 
humanity  in  its  natural  character,  as  bringing  into  it  no  new  whole 
whatever  for  its  organic  elevation  to  a  higher  sphere.     There  is  no 
mystery  accordingly  ever  in  this  pseudo-catholicism ;  it  needs  no 
faith  for  its  apprehension;  but  on  the  contrary  falls  in  readily  with 
every  sort  of  rationalistic  tendency  and  habit.     Sects  too,  that  hate 
Catholicism  in  the  true  sense,  find  it  XQvy  easy  to  be  on  good  terms 
with  it  under  such  mock  form;  the  most  unchurchly  and  uncatholic 


Chap.  XXXII]  catholicity  395 

among  them,  taking  the  lead  ordinarily  in  all  sorts  of  buttery  twad- 
dle and  sham  in  the  name  of  Christian  union.  The  purely  negative 
character  of  the  spirit  is  farther  shown,  in  its  open  disregard  for  all 
past  histor}'.  It  acknowledges  no  authority-  in  this  form,  no  con- 
fession, no  creed;  but  will  have  it,  that  Christianity  is  something 
to  be  produced  by  all  men,  in  ever^'  age,  as  a  new  fact  fresh  from 
the  Bible  and  themselves.  But  how  then  can  it  be  taken  to  have 
anj^  substance  of  its  own  in  the  actual  world,  any  wholeness  that  is 
truly  concrete,  and  not  simph^  notional  and  abstract?  Catholic 
and  historical  (which  at  last  means  also  apostolical)  go  necessaril}^ 
hand  in  hand  together. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

A  FTER  the  Synod  of  York  Dr.  Berg  continued  his  opposition  to 
-^^^  the  Mercersburg  Professors  as  opportunities  presented  them- 
selves, at  Classis,  at  Synod,  through  the  Messenger^  or  his  own  or- 
gan, the  Profesta)it  Quarterly^  gaining  adherents  mostly  from  the 
outside  of  the  Church,  but  comparatively  few  fi'om  within.  As  both 
he  and  his  followers  did  little  or  nothing  to  promote  the  general  in- 
terests of  their  own  denomination,  those  upon  whom  the  chief  bur- 
dens lay  had  no  sympathy  with  him  in  mere  negative  opi^osition,  or 
what  seemed  to  them  mere  faction.  The  people  generally  felt  that 
his  protestations  embodied  a  foreign  spirit,  at  war  with  the  life  and 
traditions  of  their  own  Church,  and  gave  him  little  aid  or  comfort. 
Early  in  the  year  1852,  contrary  to  his  utterances  at  Synod,  Dr.  Berg 
concluded  to  withdraw  from  the  ground  and  seek  a  more  congenial 
home  in  another  denomination.  He  was  successful  in  carrying  with 
him  a  large  part  of  his  congregation  in  Philadelphia,  which  went  out 
with  him,  erected  a  new  church  in  another  part  of  the  city,  and  con- 
nected themselves  with  the  Dutch  Reformed  Church.  The  part}' 
that  seceded  left  the  congregation,  which  he  had  served  for  years, 
in  a  distressed  condition,  in  fact,  a  mere  wreck.  It  was  one  of  the 
oldest  and  wealthiest  in  the  denomination,  and  might,  under  proper 
influences,  have  been  made  the  most  influential  in  good  works  among 
its  sister  churches.  The  reasons  assigned  for  such  a  sudden  and 
violent  change  the  pastor  set  forth  in  his  Valedictory,  which  was 
published  in  pamphlet  form  for  a  wider  circulation.  He  objected 
to  various  articles  in  the  Mercersburg  Revieio,  but  more  specificall}- 
to  the  action  of  the  Sj'nod  of  Lancaster  in  1851,  in  refusing  to  ac- 
cept of  Dr.  Nevin's  resignation  as  Professor  of  theology  at  once 
and  without  further  delay.  To  him  it  was  an  endorsement  of  his 
doctrines,  and  this  he  affirmed  brought  him  to  an  issue  with  the 
Synod  and  the  Church  itself.  The  Yaledictory  was  of  no  ver}' 
peaceful  character;  for  the  most  part  it  was  a  characteristic  as- 
sault upon  the  Professors  at  Mercersburg,  to  a  lai'ge  extent  sensa- 
tional, and  apparently  to  many  on  the  outside,  who  knew  little  or 
nothing  about  the  nature  of  the  questions  at  issue,  a  sublime  de- 
fence of  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances it  became  necessary  for  Dr.  Nevin,  in  order  to  destroy 
the  eflTect  of  this  secession  and  farewell  sermon,  to  stand  up  both 
on  the  offensive  and  the  defensive.     His  reply  to  "Dr.  Berg's  Last 

(396) 


Chap.  XXXIII]  dr.  berg's  last  words  397 

AVords,"  or  "soino  notice  "of  it,  as  lie  s:iid,  appoiired  in  the  May  , 
number  of  the  Revieic  for  1852.     We  here  give  his  replies  to  a  few 
of  the  numerous  accusations  which  were  marshalled  in  line  against 
him  from  the  Philadelphia  pulpit. 

"The  next  accusation  of  Dr.  Berg  relates  to  the  doctrine  of  jus- 
tification by  faith; "which  we  in  particular  are  said  to  have  denied,  '' 
in  our  work  entitled  the  Mijfitical  Presence^  by  making  the  relation 
of  Christ  to  His  people  to  be  such,  that  His  righteousness  is  not 
merely  set  to  their  credit  or  account,  by  a  fiction  of  law  in  an  out- 
ward forensic  way,  but  is  to  be  regarded  as  immanent  in  their  very 
nature  itself.  This  he  will  have  to  mean,  that  the  believer  is  justi- 
fied onl}'  by  his  own  inherent  or  personal  holiness,  resulting  from 
his  union  with  Christ.  Long  ago  we  took  some  pains  to  show  that 
no  such  construction  of  our  language  was  right.  But  it  has  not 
suited  Dr.  Berg  to  bear  anything  of  that  sort  in  mind  ;  and  so  we 
here  have  the  old  charge  publicly  i)araded  before  the  world  again, 
without  any  (lualification  or  reserve,  just  as  though  the  ninth  com- 
mandment had  been  stricken  from  the  decalogue,  or  were  of  no 
force  at  all  for  a  true  Albigensian  'witness,'  sweating  and  stagger- 
ing under  the  weight  of  so  big  a  cause.  Justification,  we  know,  is 
not  sanctification.  But  still  the  first  must  be  the  real  ground  or 
foundation  of  the  second,  and  this  requires  that  it  should  be  some- 
thing more  than  an  outward  act,  that  comes  to  no  union  whatever 
with  the  life  of  the  sinner.  It  imputes  to  him  the  righteousness  of 
Christ,  b}'  setting  him  in  connection  with  the  power  of  it  as  a  new  and 
higher  order  of  life,  with  grace  in  distinction  from  nature,  wrought 
out  in  the  bosom  of  humanity  by  Christ  as  the  Second  Adam. 

"  This  imi)lies  that  Avhat  is  imputed  or  made  over  to  men  is  not 
something  out  of  them  and  beyond  them  altogether,  but  a  fact  al-  - 
ready  established  in  their  nature  itself,  although  a  Divine  act  is 
needed  to  bring  them  into  communication  with  it  as  individuals. 
In  such  view,  tlie  righteousness  of  Christ,  the  power  of  His  atone- 
ment, the  glorious  fact  of  redemption,  may  be  regarded  and  spoken 
of  as  hnnuinent  now  in  our  nature,  just  as  the  law  of  sin  and  death 
is  immanent  in  it  also  under  its  merely  Adamic  view,  making  room 
for  a  corresponding  development  of  individual  life.  Natural  birth 
sets  us  in  connection  with  human  nature,  as  fallen  in  Adam  and 
under  the  curse ;  regenerating  grace  sets  us  in  connection  with  the 
same  nature,  as  recovered  from  the  curse,  and  so  made  capable  of 
righteousness,  through  union  with  Christ.  The  actual  individual 
life  ill  either  case,  with  such  inherent  properties  as  it  may  be  found 
to  i)ossess,  is  conditioned  by  the  presence  of  a  real  possibilit}^  go- 


398  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM   1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

ing  before  in  the  general  life,  out  of  which  it  springs.  This  real 
possibilit}'^,  the  potential  underlying  the  actual,  is  the  one  man's 
disobedience  in  the  first  case,  whereby  many  are  made  sinners,  and 
in  the  second  case  the  obedience  of  one  by  which  man}^  are  made 
righteous,  both  immanent  in  humanity^  for  their  own  momentous 
ends." — Passing  over  Dr.  Berg's  other  objections  to  the  false  doc- 
trines for  which  the  Church  as  alleged  had  made  itself  responsible 
by  sustaining  its  Professor,  we  pass  on  to  the  last,  which  probably' 
in  his  mind  was  the  most  dangerous  of  all. 

"  The  last  oflence  with  which  we  are  charged  in  this  valedictory 
demonstration,  is  our  refusal  to  fall  in  with  the  anti-popery  hue 
and  cry  against  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  This  evidentl}'  is  a 
minor  point  in  the  general  bill  of  wrongs.  It  forms  the  culmina- 
tion of  the  universal  mischief,  the  '  unkindest  cut  of  all '  in  the 
whole  list  of  our  provocations.  Much  else  might  have  been  pa- 
tiently borne.     But  here  patience  itself  is  put  fairl^^  out  of  breath. 

"Dr.  Berg,  it  is  well  known,  has  a  mortal  antipathy  to  Roman- 
ism. He  has  long  been  distinguished  as  one  of  the  school,  which 
makes  a  vast  merit  of  hating  and  cursing  the  Pope  as  Antichrist, 
and  builds  its  first  and  greatest  pretension  to  what  it  calls  evangel- 
ical piety,  on  its  want  of  all  charity  towards  Papists  wherever 
found.  He  has  staked  his  personal  credit,  his  popularity  as  a  min- 
ister, his  reputation  as  a  theologian,  on  the  anti-popery  cause,  as- 
serted and  maintained  in  this  radical  style ;  and  the  consequence 
has  been,  as  usual,  that  the  cause  in  such  form  has  grown  to  be  for 
him  a  sort  of  'fixed  idea,'  s^monymous  in  some  sense  with  the 
identity  of  his  personal  life.  He  has  preached  on  it ;  made  speeches 
on  it ;  written  a  book  on  it,  with  a  glorifying  introduction  from 
Dr.  Brownlee.  '  I  shall  never  apologize,'  he  writes  years  ago, 
'  either  to  the  people  of  my  own  charge  or  to  the  public,  for  preach- 
ing and  writing  against  Popery ;  for  I  am  not  ashamed  of  the  Gos- 
pel of  Christ ;  neither  am  I  afraid  to  lift  up  my  voice  and  to  cry 
aloud  against  the  abomination  of  sin  ;  and  to  rebuke,  so  far  as  my 
influence  extends,  the  impudence  of  Antichrist. — For  the  system 
of  Poper}',  'the  mystery  of  iniquity,  in  all  its  deceivabieness  of 
unrighteousness,'  and  in  all  the  shades  and  grades  of  its  known 
and  unknown  abominations,  I  do  entertain  the  most  hearty-  abom- 
ination. I  believe  it  to  be  the  arch-deceiver  of  precious  souls  and 
the  Master-piece  of  Satan.'  (See  Berg's  Lectures  on  Romanism, 
Pp.  23  and  24).  Any  quantity  of  similar  stuff  is  found  in  other 
parts  of  the  same  book,  as  well  as  in  the  scurrilous  pages  of  the 
Protestant  Quarterly. 


Chap.  XXXIII]  dr.  berg'S  last  words  399 

"In  nil  this  it  is  easy  to  reiul  the  symptoms  of  a  very  virulent 
affection.  For  one  who  surrenders  himself  to  it,  the  anti-poper}- 
spirit  is  in  truth  a  disease  of  the  very  worst  kind.  We  know  of  no 
mental  habit,  short  of  absolute  insanity,  that  seems  to  be  more  un- 
favorable to  calm  self-possession,  to  the  exercise  of  clear  sober 
judgment,  or  to  the  grace  of  godly  sincerity  and  truth  in  the  in- 
ward parts.  Where  it  has  come  to  be  fully  established,  there  is  an 
end  both  of  charity  and  reason  so  far  as  the  Church  of  Rome  is 
concerned.  The  mind  loses  its  hold  on  proper  realities,  and  falls 
as  it  were  under  a  sort  of  magical  spell  or  ban,  which  makes  it  im- 
possible to  see  anything  in  its  true  color  and  right  shape.  It  moves 
in  a  world  of  perversions,  distortions,  exaggerations,  contradictions, 
and  lies,  from  which,  however,  while  the  fixed  idea  lasts,  no  friendly 
light  has  any  power  to  set  it  free.  We  have  an  exemplification  of 
this  in  Dr.  Berg.  In  his  battles  with  Romanism,  he  spoils  his  own 
cause  continually  by  extravagance  and  excess.  He  persecutes  and 
spits  venom,  while  affecting  to  play  the  bully  for  toleration  and 
peace. 

"  He  is  irreverent  and  profime  in  the  treatment  of  sacred  things, 
while  heaping  accusations  of  profanity  on  Rome.  He  sets  himself 
up,  as  the  manifestation  of  private  judgment  to  pull  down  the 
Pope ;  holding  with  great  show  of  zeal  that  all  men  have  the  right 
of  thinking  as  the}'  choose,  provided  they  think  Avith  him,  and  not 
some  other  way.  He  is  great  for  free  inquiry-  and  light,  and  yet 
takes  good  care  not  to  meet  an}-  question  at  issue  in  a  really  hon- 
orable and  manly  style ;  wdiile  all  sorts  of  declamation,  sophistry 
and  falsehood  are  resorted  to  for  the  purpose  of  maintaining  a 
show  and  sham  of  argument,  where  all  argument  in  its  true  form 
is  wanting. 

"Such  is  the  general  st3le  and  fashion  of  this  intolerant  anti- 
popery  school.  No  one,  who  has  not  been  led  to  examine  the  matter 
seriously  for  himself,  can  have  any  idea  of  the  extent  to  which 
falsehood  and  misrepresentation  are  carried  in  the  common  warfare 
upon  the  Church  of  Rome.  Xo  Church,  as  the  great  Dr.  Johnson 
used  to  say,  has  been  more  monstrously  slandered.  Our  religious 
papers,  it  is  to  be  feared,  lie  here,  too  generally,  under  dreadful  guilt. 
The  warfare  in  question  is  conducted  too  generally  without  an}-  re- 
gard to  princii)le.  It  is  forgotten  that  great  interests  of  religion, 
deep  and  solemnly  important  truths,  in  the  very  nature  of  the  case, 
are  involved  in  Romanism;  and  the  whole  object  then  is  merely  to 
overthrow  and  destroy,  regardless  of  all  consequences  that  may  go 
along  with  the  wreck.     Anti-popery  in  such   form   is  ])urely  nega- 


400  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

tive.  It  seeks  only  to  bi'eak  down;  and  eveiy  blow  is  welcome 
that  looks  this  wa}',  though  it  be  never  so  rude  and  blind. 

"When  we  are  taxed  with  refusing  to  succumb  to  the  dictation 
of  this  fanatical  and  tyrannical  school,  we  ver}'  readily  admit  the 
truth  of  the  charge.  We  do  not  regard  the  Papac^^  as  such,  to  be 
Antichrist.  There  have  been,  we  doubt  not  at  all,  many  pious 
Popes.  We  do  not  believe  that  the  Catholic  Church  was  the  syna- 
gogue of  Satan,  for  more  than  a  thousand  3'ears  before  the  time  of 
Luther,  and  are  not  willing  to  bastardize  Protestantism  itself,  by 
making  the  Roman  baptism  from  which  it  springs  to  be  but  a  bap- 
tism of  the  Devil,  unchurching  thus  at  the  same  time  with  a  single 
stroke  of  the  pen  the  whole  Christianity  of  the  Middle  Ages  and  of 
the  ages  before,  away  back  to  the  da3's  of,  Cyprian  and  Tertullian. 
We  do  not  feel  bound  at  all  to  follow  the  sense  which  Dr.  Berg  is 
pleased  to  put  into  two  or  three  Bible  texts,  against  the  authority 
of  Grotins,  Hammond,  Hengstenberg  and  Stuart,  and  we  know  not 
how  man}'  Protestant  critics  besides.  It  is  no  part  of  our  religion 
to  hate  and  curse  Catholics,  to  lampoon  their  priesthood,  to  make  a 
mock  of  their  worship,  or  to  treat  their  holy  things  with  scorn  and 
contempt.  We  have  read  too  much  church  histor}',  and  looked  too 
widely  into  the  present  state  of  the  world  for  that.  This  modera- 
tion ma}^  be  very  unpalatable  to  Dr.  Berg,  and  the  school  to  which 
he  belongs.     But  we  cannot  help  it.     Such  is  the  state  of  our  mind. 

"The  question  here  is  onl}-,  Avhether  it  be  an  oflfence  against 
Protestant  orthodoxy  to  think  in  this  way.  That  is  what  Dr.  Berg 
maintains.  It  is  not  with  him  a  matter  of  freedom,  to  ditFer  here 
from  the  rule  to  which  he  is  so  unhappily  sworn.  He  lays  it  down 
as  a  foundation  pj-incijjie  that  Rome  is  Antichrist,  Babylon,  and 
Amalek ;  that  the  Pope  is  officially  the  Man  of  Sin;  that  Mede's 
Key  to  the  Prophecies  is  infallibly  true ;  and  that  Poper}'  has  been 
from  first  to  last  'the  Master-piece  of  Satan.'  This,  we  are  told,  is 
the  only  theory  by  which  Protestantism  can  stand.  It  must  pass 
for  a  term  of  orthodoxy,  an  article  of  faith.  Since  when,  however, 
we  ask  in  repl}^,  has  any  such  narrow  and  inquisitorial  rule  been  in 
force?  In  what  Draconian  code  is  it  now  to  be  found?  When, 
where,  and  how,  especially,  has  the  German  Reformed  Church 
erected  any  test  of  this  sort,  to  bind  the  conscience  of  her  ministers, 
either  in  Europe  or  America  ?  The  test  is  arbitrary  altogether,  an 
imposition  smuggled  in  privily  to  subvert  'the  liberty  which  we 
have  in  Christ  Jesus,'  and  to  'bring  us  into  bondage.'  We  disown 
it;  and  we  give  no  place  to  it  by  subjection,  not  even  for  an  hour, 
that  the  truth  of  the  Gospel  ma}'^  remain  without  damage  or  harm. 


Chap.  XXXIIIJ  dr.  berg's  last  words  401 

We  deny  the  right  of  .'iiiy  111:111,  or  any  set  and  i)arty  of  men,  to 
frame  rules  and  constitutions  for  us  in  this  high-handed  autocratic 
and  overbearing  style.  Those  who  choose  to  make  a  large  part  of 
their  religion  consist  in  abusing  and  slandering  Komanism,  are  at 
liberty  for  themselves  to  indulge  as  far  as  they  please  their  own 
malevolent  taste ,  and  there  is  nothing  to  hinder  them  either  from 
doing  what  they  can,  by  rant  or  slang,  to  make  others  of  the  same 
mind.  But  let  them  stick  to  moral  suasion.  When  they  mount 
the  tripod,  and  claim  to  be  oracles,  and  atlect  to  launch  thunder- 
bolts, making  their  miserable  hobbies  articles  of  faith,  and  then  de- 
nouncing as  heretics  all  those  who  refuee  to  take  up  the  same  song, 
it  is  high  time  to  let  them  know  that  they  are  driving  things  (piite 
too  fast  and  too  far.  Whatever  may  come  of  them  hereafter,  their 
hobbies  are  not  i/cf  fully  installed,  for  universal  Protestantism,  as 
oracles  and  articles  of  faith. 

"So  much  for  the  burden  of  Dr.  Bei'g's  Farewell  Words,  as  di- 
rected mainly  against  ourselves.  We  are  now  ready  for  the  con- 
sideration of  it,  as  a  cry  against  the  German  Reformed  Church. 
That  is  the  main  end  of  the  whole  proclamation.  It  is  intended  to 
be  an  apolog}',  as  we  have  seen,  for  an  act  of  voluntary  secession. 
Dr.  Berg  wishes  to  play  the  martyr.  He  claims  to  be  a  seceder  for 
conscience's  sake.  This  involves  necessarily  the  idea  of  an  issue 
with  the  whole  body,  which  he  is  led  thus  heroicallj'  to  forsake. 
To  make  out  his  case,  it  is  not  enough  to  muster  charges,  like  those 
we  have  just  been  considering,  against  one  man  or  another  singly 
taken ;  that  would  be  a  poor  reason  for  so  big  a  step ;  it  must  be 
contrived  in  some  way  to  give  the  matter  a  far  more  general  char- 
acter, and  to  bring  in  the  whole  church  as  partirrps  crimiiiis.  as  a 
party  to  the  alleged  otfences.  Only  in  that  form  do  we  get  at  last 
a  nodus  vindice  dignus,  the  full  opportunity  and  fit  occasion  for 
such  a  Sampson  Agonlstes  to  put  forth  all  his  strength.'' — As  a 
matter  of  course  Dr.  Xevin  found  it  to  be  a  much  easier  matter  to 
defend  the  Reformed  Cliurcii  against  the  charges  made  b}-  Dr.  Berg 
for  dereliction  of  duty,  and  for  endorsing  dangerous  errors  in  allow- 
ing her  Professors  to  remain  in  their  chairs  at  Mercersburg,  which 
he  proceeded  to  do  thoroughly  and  exhaustively,  as  the  reader  may 
imagine  from  what  has  been  said  elsewhere  in  this  history,  and 
need  not  be  repeated  here. 

It  was  an  opinion  entertained  at  the  time  by  moderate  and 
thoughtful  persons  that  Dr.  Berg's  demonstration  in  Philadelphia 
was  only  a  part  of  a  movement  that  extended  beyond  the  Reformed 
Church,  whose  object  was  to  revolutionize,  or  disintegrate  it  into 


402  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

fi'agments.  The  virulence  of  some  of  the  religious  papers  in  sym- 
pathy' with  Dr.  Berg  seemed  to  favor  such  a  supposition.  The  se- 
cession of  the  Rev.  Jacob  Helfenstein,  and  his  congregation  at 
Germantown,  Pa.,  and  their  formal  passing  over  into  the  Presb}'- 
terian  Church,  carrj'ing  with  them  their  chui'ch  propert}^,  which  had 
belonged  to  the  Reformed  Church  for  more  than  a  century,  also 
seemed  to  show  that  there  was  some  kind  of  concerted  action.  But 
whatever  may  have  been  the  true  state  of  the  case,  the  Reformed 
Church  retained  her  dignity,  and  did  not  suffer  herself  to  be  moved 
from  her  staid  sense  of  propriety  by  the  excitement  and  clamor  of 
the  hour.  Dr.  Nevin  felt  the  gravity  of  the  situation,  and,  by  a 
trenchant  article  in  the  Review^  sought  to  break  the  force  of  Dr. 
Berg's  last  act  and  words,  at  least,  in  the  Reformed  Church,  in 
which  he  was,  successful.  In  doing  so  he  appealed  not  only  to  ar- 
guments and  reason,  but  called  to  his  assistance  some  forcible  lan- 
guage, which  showed  that  he  could  strike  back  no  less  than  to  re- 
ceive blows.  We  here  give  a  few  specimens  of  his  language,  which 
proved  that  he  could  wield  the  pen  of  a  Junius  himself,  when  he 
thought  that  occasion  or  duty  called  for  it. 

"It  is  generally  known,"  he  says,  "that  Rev.  Dr.  Berg,  who  has 
long  been  ambitious  to  head  a  party  and  create  trouble  in  the  Ger- 
man Reformed  Church,  b^-  birth  a  Moravian,  b}-  education  an 
American  Puritan  of  the  most  thorough  anti-popery  stamp,  has 
seen  fit  to  do  what  he  ought  to  have  done  long  ago,  abandon  the 
denomination  in  which  he  has  found  himself  so  poorly"  at  home  for 
the  purpose  of  trj'ing  his  fortune  in  another.  Pains  have  been 
taken  to  make  the  event  notorious.  It  was  evidently  expected  to 
create  a  sensation  ;  and  this  valedictory  discourse  forms  part  of 
the  apparatus,  or  what  we  may  call  stage-thunder,  which  has  been 
ingeniously  contrived  in  aid  of  such  end. 

"The  sensation  has  not  indeed  come  to  much.  The  stage-thun- 
der has  jjroved  to  be  very  weak.  The  mountain  in  labor  has  once 
more  given  birth  to  a  ridiculous  mouse.  This  sermon  in  particular 
is  intrinsically  a  small  affair.  Still  it  merits  attention.  It  is  not 
beneath  notice,  like  too  much  from  the  pen  of  the  same  author  in 
the  Protestant  Quarterly,  hy  its  gross  vulgarity  and  rant.  There  is 
some  decency  in  its  style,  some  dignity  in  its  tone.  And  then  it  has 
significance  by  its  relations  and  accidents ;  as  the  end  historically 
of  much  that  has  gone  before;  as  a  curioiis  exemplification  theolog- 
ically of  the  intellectual  obliquity  and  wrong  spirit  of  the  whole  re- 
ligious tendency  which  it  may,  in  some  sense,  be  said  to  represent. 
Altogether,  we  say,  the  sermon  is  not  undeserving  of  regard. 


Chap.  XXXIII]  dr.  berg's  last  words  403 

^^  His  going  out  of  the  body  is  to  be  no  vulgar  transition  sini])ly 
from  one  sect  to  another.  It  must  be  a  solemn  Exodus;  a  sort  of 
a  miniature  repetition  of  the  scene  which  took  place,  when  the  Free 
Church  of  Scotland  went  forth  from  the  Establishment  with  the 
great  Chalmers  at  its  head.  It  must  be  for  conscience  sake.  It 
must  carry  with  it  the  air  of  a  great  and  heroic  sacrifice  for  the 
cause  of  righteousness  and  truth. — We  almost  wonder  that  he  was 
not  led  to  set  up  a  fresh  sect,  or  to  try,  at  least,  the  experiment  of 
a  schism  in  the  Reformed  Church,  to  be  baptized  with  his  name. 
But,  'non  omnia  possumits  omnes.'  A  captaincy  in  such  a  case, 
without  even  a  corporal's  guard  to  follow,  is  rather  a  sorry  business. 
— It  was  wise  then  not  to  venture  a  new  church,  but  to  take  refuge 
rather  in  the  'Old  Church  of  Holland,  the  Gibraltar  of  Protestant- 
ism,' already  well  known  and  firmly  established.  Still  the  move- 
ment must  not  forfeit,  for  this  reason,  the  character  of  a  true  seces- 
sion, a  veritable  heroism  for  fiiith,  in  the  eyes  of  an  admiring  world. 
It  is  i)leasant  to  be  a  martyr,  or  at  any  rate  to  have  the  name  of 
one,  if  it  come  not  to  bona  fide  blood,  and  cost  nothing  either  to 
stomach  or  blood.  The  object  then  of  this  Valedictory  is  to  make 
good  a  title  to  such  luxury  and  praise. 

"Thus  he  expresses  himself:  'I  feel  that  my  position  is  painful, 
but  I  am  sure  in  my  own  mind  that  it  is  right.  I  cannot  operate 
with  the  Synod  of  the  German  Reformed  Church  any  longer.  Its 
late  action  is  a  practical  avowal  of  sympathy  with  views  which  I 
cannot  endure,  and  subsequent  developments  have  satisfied  me  that 
my  mission  in  its  communion  is  finished.' — All  this  is  designed  to 
be  a  sort  of  modest  parallelism  with  the  relation  of  Elijah  to  Israel, 
in  the  days  of  Ahab  and  (^ueen  Jezebel.  The  Reformed  Church 
answers  to  the  Ten  Tribes,  gone  or  fast  going  after  Baal.  Dr.  Berg 
is  the  solitary  Tishl)ite  under  the  juniper  tree. 

'•We  are  charged  with  teaching, 'that  sin  was  in  the  person  of 
the  Mediator,  and  that  the  presence  of  sin  in  His  person  entailed 
the  necessity  of  His  suffering,'  because  of  our  saying  that  the  hu- 
man nature  which  He  assumed  was  that  of  Adam  after  the  fall.aud 
so  a 'fallen  humanity,' which  was  to  be  raised  through  this  very 
mystery  of  the  Incarnation  itself  to  a  new  and  higher  order  of  life. 
To  this  most  abominable  misrepresentation,  another  breach  of  the 
ninth  commandment,  we  reply  in  merciful  Latin:  '  Mcntiris  impu- 
dentissime.'  We  abhor  every  such  thought.  It  is  not  in  our  book. 
We  have  always  disowned  it." — This  was  the  language  of  contro- 
A'^ersy,  and  as  Dr.  Berg  was  accustomed  to  use  the  weapons  of 
satire  and  sarcasm  very  freely  himself  at  times,  lie  couhl  not  com- 


404  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

plain  when  shells  of  this  kind  fell  thick  and  fast  around  him.  Most 
probably  he  admired  the  skill  with  which  they  were  hurled.  He, 
at  least,  never  evinced  any  low  resentment  or  secret  hatred  towards 
his  great  opponent,  nor  charged  him  with  disingenuous  motives; 
on  the  contrary  he  always  spoke  of  him  in  terms  of  sincere  respect- 
In  the  course  of  time  he  became  professor  of  Dogmatic  Theology  in 
the  Theological  Seminary  of  the  Dutch  Reformed  Church,  at  New 
Brunswick,  N.  J.,  and  it  is  said  based  his  lectures  largely  on 
Ebrard's  Christliche  Dogmatik,  which  was  substantially  the  same 
theology  as  that  which  had  been  taught  all  along  at  Mercersburg. 

As  already  said,  the  Rev.  Jacob  Helfenstein  had  likewise  seceded 
from  the  Reformed  Church,  and,  with  a  larger  part  of  his  congre- 
gation, had  gone  into  the  Presbyterian  Church.  Born  in  the  Re- 
formed Church,  with  an  honoi'able  ancestry  of  ministers,  he,  at  an 
earl}'  age,  had  left  it,  became  an  ardent  disciple  of  Mr.  Finney,  and 
then  returned  to  it  with  an  earnest  desire  apparently  to  build  up 
its  broken-down  walls  with  the  new  light  which  he  thought  he  had 
received  from  Oberlin,  in  the  Western  Reserve,  Ohio.  He  had  a 
few  ministerial  friends  who  sympathized  with  him,  and  thought 
they  were  called  to  perform  the  part  of  reformers  in  their  day  by 
introducing  a  foreign  spirit  into  the  Church.  Having  been  brought 
to  see  that  he  had  no  occupation  for  a  work  of  that  kind  in  his 
own  Church,  he  again  withdrew,  not  however  without  first  address- 
ing a  circular  to  the  various  religious  papers,  urging  them  to  de- 
nounce what  he  considered  dangerous  heresy,  making  its  appear- 
ance in  the  Reformed  Church.  Some  of  them  heeded  his  alarm, 
but  some  of  them  did  not,  deeming  it  most  proper  for  them  to 
attend  to  their  own  vineyards.  Dr.  Berg  at  first  discouraged  se- 
cession, but  the  pressure  from  without,  as  he  said,  even  on  the 
streets  of  Philadelphia,  was  great,  and  he  succumbed  to  what  was 
a  considerable  ecclesiastical  C3'clone  at  the  time.  The  editor  of  the 
Christian  Intelligencer^  not  exactly  the  organ  but  the  leading  pa- 
per of  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church,  especiall}' ,  gave  him  aid  and 
comfort  in  his  various  conflicts  with  his  German  brethren. 

In  the  year  1852  the  corresponding  delegates  of  the  Dutch  Re- 
formed Church,  who  had  attended  the  meeting  of  the  German  Re- 
formed Synod  the  year  before,  made  a  very  unusual  report — sui  gen- 
eris— of  what  they  had  seen  and  heard  among  their  German  cousins. 
Usually  siich  reports  were  of  a  friendly  and  pleasant  character, 
giving  an  account  of  the  progress  of  the  sister  Church  with  its 
Christian  greetings ;  but  at  this  time,  and  for  once,  the  report  was 
of  a  decidedly  warlike  character,  and  the  Dutch  Synod  deemed  itself 


Chap.  XXX II IJ  dk.  uekc's  coadjutors  405 

culled  on  to  define  its  position  as  in  no  sense  endorsing  what  had 
come  to  be  called  "  Mercersburg  Theology,"  or,  in  other  words,  the  / 
doctrinal  views  of  the  two  Reformed  Professors  at  Mercersburg. 
They  had  never  been  asked  to  do  so,  and  the  German  brethren 
themselves  had  not  done  so  in  any  formal  way — simply  protected 
them  when  unjustly  assailed;  but  the  Dutch  brethren  thought 
otherwise  and  supposed  that  it  was  incumbent  on  them  to  express  an  ' 
opinion  in  regard  to  the  questions  in  dispute  in  the  sister  church. 

This  report  of  the  Dutch  delegates  was  allowed  to  be  put  on 
record  on  the  minutes  of  their  Synod, a  copy  of  which  was  forwarded 
next  year, according  to  the  usual  rule,  to  the  other  Reformed  Church, 
which  met  in  Baltimore  in  the  year  ]8o3.  This  document,  of  a  very 
remarkable  character,  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  a  special  commit- 
tee that  gave  it  a  careful  and  searching  examination.  The  result 
was  that  the  committee  reported  that  their  report  did  not  harmonize 
with  the  facts  in  a  number  of  instances,  and  the  chairman,  who  was 
a  vigorous  German,  did  not  think  it  was  necessary  that  he  should 
employ  Calvin's  merciful  Latin  in  his  report,  as  Dr.  Nevin  had  done 
in  the  case  of  Dr.  Berg;  but  simply-  said  in  plain  Anglo-Saxon  that 
all  their  statements  were  untrue,  except  that  their  stay  with  their 
German  brethren  was  brief,  which  did  not  allow  them  sufficient  time 
to  secure  more  accurate  information.  The  relation  between  the  two 
ecclesiastical  bodies,  previous  to  this  of  a  most  intimate  and  affec- 
tionate character,  thus  became  strained  for  several  years.  It  re-  <> 
suited  largely  from  the  fiict  that  the  meaning  of  the  object  in  the 
exchange  of  corresponding  delegates  was  not  properly  understood 
at  the  time.  Subsequent!}',  when  this  came  to  be  better  defined, 
the  old,  fraternal  feeling  asserted  itself  and  again  began  to  grow. 

Dr.  Berg  found  a  few  other  coadjutors  and  sympathizers  in  the 
Reformed  Dutch  Church.  In  the  January  number  of  the  Princeton 
Repertory^  in  1852,  a  long  article  on  "  Ursinus  and  the  Heidelberg 
Catechism  "  made  its  appearance  from  the  pen  of  Rev.  John  W. 
Proudfit,  one  of  the  Professors  in  Rutger's  College,  New  Jerse}'. 
Professedly'  it  was  a  review  of  the  translation  of  the  Commentary 
of  Vrsinus  on  the  Heidelberg  Catechism  by  the  Rev.  George  W. 
Williard,  which  he  criticised  very  unfavorably;  but  the  article 
seemed  to  have  been  intended  more  particularly  for  the  benefit  of 
Dr.  Xevin,  who,  at  the  request  of  the  translator,  had  prepared  an  In- 
troduction for  the  book  of  moderate  dimension  on  the  life  of  its 
author,  Ursinus.  In  connection  with  this  biography,  he  took  occa- 
sion to  speak  of  the  excellent  spirit  of  the  Catechism,  of  its  irenical 
cliaracter,and  of  its  reserve  on  the  subject  of  the  divine  decrees  as  he 


406  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

had  done  elsewhere.  To  much  of  this  Dr.  Proudfit  objected,  as  well 
as  to  other  productions  of  Dr.  Nevin's  pen,  which  he  brought  in  by  the 
way,  such  as  his  History  and  Genius  of  the  Heidelberg  Catechism,  in 
connection  with  his  articles  on  Earl}-  Christianit3\  Evidently  it  was 
not  so  much  Mr.  Williard's  book  as  Dr.  Nevin  with  whom  he  wished 
to  have  a  tilt.  His  wish  was  gratified,  and  his  article  answered  in 
Dr.  Nevin's  usually  vigorous,  and  at  this  time  rather  caustic  style,  in 
the  March  number  of  the  Mercersburg  Review  for  the  year  1852, 
in  an  article  entitled  the  "Heidelberg  Catechism." 

"  It  only  remains,"  says  Dr.  Nevin,  "  to  notice  briefl}"  the  criticism 
by  Dr.  Proudfit  on  Williard's  translation  itself.  We  have  had  no 
opportunity  to  compare  this  with  the  original  text,  and  can  there- 
fore say  nothing  positively  as  to  the  ability  and  fidelity  with  which 
it  is  executed.  But  it  is  easy  to  see  from  the  face  of  such  evidence 
as  we  have  before  us,  that  the  general  criticism  of  the  Brunswick 
Professor  is  exceedingly  unfair.  He  aflfects  to  call  in  question  the 
worth  and  sufflcienc}"  of  Mr.  Williard's  Latin  text,  the  Geneva  edi- 
tion of  1616,  without  any  good  reason  whatever.  He  takes  the 
translator  solemnly  to  task,  at  the  same  time,  for  venturing  out  of 
his  cop}',  to  bring  in  short  extracts  from  the  old  English  Transla- 
tion b}^  Parr}',  although  these  extracts  are  carefully  noted  in  the 
text  itself  as  addenda^  with  due  warning  besides  in  the  Preface. — 
But  now  only  hear  Professor  Proudfit  on  this  point :  'In  this  prac- 
tice, we  must  remind  him  that  he  has  departed  from  all  the  just 
principles  which  ought  to  guide  a  translator.  We  cannot  well  con- 
ceive a  larger  'liberty'  than  for  a  translator  to  insert  short  ex- 
tracts from  unknown  sources,  changing  the  style  and  construction 
so  as  to  adapt  it  to  the  taiite  of  the  modern  reader.'  The  word 
taste^  italicised  to  convey  the  entirely  and  perfectly  gratuitous  as- 
sumption, that  the  case  may  include  some  theological  accommoda- 
tion, instead  of  the  fashion  of  language,  the  actual  '  foisting  in ' 
of  a  new  sense  with  sinister  purpose  and  regard,  is  miserable  bal- 
derdash. 

"But  there  are  instances,  not  a  few,  of  bad  translations  in  the 
book,  according  to  the  critic.  We  can  only  say,  not  having  the 
original  at  hand,  that  the  book  does  not  read  like  a  bad  translation ; 
on  the  contrary  it  runs  very  clearly  and  very  smoothly,  more  so 
than  translations  do  commonly,  and  makes,  at  all  events,  good 
sense. — All  we  wish  to  say  is,  that  Dr.  Proudfit's  criticism  here  is 
chargeable  with  gross  exaggeration. 

"So  as  regards  the  typographical  and  general  editorial  execution 
of  the  work.     It  is  declared  to  be  unpardonably  negligent  and  in- 


Chap.  XXXIII]  dr.  ukuc's  coadjutors  407 

accurate.  This  accusation,  at  least,  we  feel  at  liberty  Iduntly  to 
contradict.  Typographical  errors  ma}-  indeed  be  found  ;  but  they 
certainly  need  some  hunting.  They  are  not  at  once  patent.  Then 
as  for  the  general  style  of  the  book,  it  may  easily  be  left  to  speak 
for  itself,  as  it  has  already  in  truth  won  in  its  own  favor,  on  all 
sides,  the  highest  commendation  and  praise.  Seldom  do  we  meet 
with  a  work  of  like  size,  for  popular  use,  in  the  case  of  which  the 
outward  costume,  both  of  paper  and  tyi)e,  is  less  open  to  any  fair 
reproach. 

"  It  is  plain  enough  after  all,  however,  that  the  criticism  of  Mr. 
Williard's  work  forms  but  a  small  part  of  the  real  object  of  Dr. 
Proudfit's  article.  The  main  purpose  is  to  assault  the  Mordecai 
sitting  at  the  gate,  our  Introduction,  nameh',  on  the  life  and  char- 
acter of  Ursinus.  In  what  spirit,  and  with  what  sort  of  effect,  this 
has  been  done,  we  have  now  tried,  in  some  measure,  to  make  appar- 
ent. The  article  is  sufficiently  ostentatious  and  ambitious  ;  it  is 
ushered  in  with  quite  an  historical  dissertation  on  the  subject  of 
catechetical  instruction,  abounds  in  sophomorical  scraj^s  of  Latin 
(the  author  being  Professor  of  the  dead  languages),  and  makes  a 
wonderful  parade  throughout  of  doing  up  the  work  in  a  smashing, 
wholesale  wa}'.  But  in  all  this  there  is  a  great  deal  more  show 
than  substance.  The  historical  introduction  is  but  little  to  the 
point;  the  sophomorical  scraps  of  Latin  prove  nothing;  and  what 
affects  to  be  smashing  argument  resolves  itself,  on  near  inspection, 
into  empty  smoke  or  something  worse.  The  argument  consists, 
for  the  most  part,  in  creating  false  issues,  by  pushing  (lualified 
statements  to  an  extreme  sense ;  b}'  exaggerating  and  caricaturing 
points  of  controversy  ;  in  one  word,  by  setting  up  men  of  straw, 
over  whom  an  easy  victory  is  gained,  the  weight  of  which  is  then 
pompously  employed  to  crush  what  has  been  thus  misrepresented 
and  abused." 

In  conclusion,  Dr.  Nevin,  willing  to  compromise  with  his  New 
Brunswick  critic,  says  :  "  It  would  be  a  pity  if  the  present  Intro- 
duction to  Mr.  Williard's  book  merely  should  stand  in  the  way  of 
its  being  favorably  received  in  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church,  as  Dr. 
Prondfit  seems  to  think  it  should  and  must  do.  "We  beg  leave 
therefore  to  suggest  a  simple  remedy  for  the  evil.  Let  o  not  her  be 
drawn  up,  either  by  Dr.  Proudfit  himself  or  b}-  somebody  else, 
calculated  for  the  meridian  of  New  Brunswick, and  conformed, in  all 
respects,  theologically  to  the  reigning  Puritan  standard  of  the 
time.  Let  it  roundly  afllrm,  that  on  the  subject  of  the  decrees  the 
formal  teaching  of  the  Heidelberg  Catechism  falls  not  a  whit  be- 


408  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    184.1-18o3  [DiV.    IX 

hind  the  determinations  of  the  Synod  of  Dort ;  that  it  owns  no 
sympathy  whatever  with  the  Catholic  ideas  of  the  Ancient  Church; 
tliat  it  eschews  religiously  the  whole  mystical  interest  in  religion, 
and  moves  only  in  the  sphere  of  the  logical  understanding ;  that  it 
has  in  it  no  inward  relationship  with  Lutheranism ;  that  the  true 
key  to  its  sense  and  spirit  should  be  sought  rather  in  New  England 
Puritanism  ;  that  it  is  unchurchly  and  unsacramental  throughout ; 
and  that  it  acknowledges  no  objective  grace,  no  mystery  at  all  (just 
as  little,  be  it  whispered,  as  Art.  XXXY  of  the  Belgic  Confession) 
in  the  holy  sacraments,  on  a  full  par  thus  with  the  universal  secta- 
rian rationalism  of  the  day.  Let  this  be  the  stand-point,  we  say, 
of  the  new  Introduction,  got  up  for  the  special  use  and  benefit  of 
the  Reformed  Dutch  Church;  and  if  the  Dutch  Church  generally 
should  choose  to  be  satisfied  with  it,  the  world  at  large,  we  pre- 
sume, will  not  feel  it  necessary  to  make  any  objection." 

In  the  year  1854  the  New  Brunswick  Review  was  started  under 
the  editorship  of  Dr.  Proudfit.  It  was  expected  to  be  in  some  sense 
the  literary  organ  of  the  Dutch  Church  and  it  presented  a  respect- 
able appearance ;  but  in  one  way  or  another  it  was  not  properly  en- 
couraged, and  in  a  3'ear  or  two  it  was  discontinued.  It  appeared 
to  receive  its  main  inspiration  as  an  uncompromising  opponent  of 
the  teachings  of  the  Mercers  burg  Professors.  In  the  first  year  it 
contained  two  very  lengthy  articles  from  Professor  Proudfit,  which 
attacked  Dr.  Schafi"  as  a  church  historian  and  criticised  very  un- 
favorablj'  his  Principle  of  Protestantism,  his  History  of  the  Apos- 
tolic Church  and  other  writings,  without,  however,  doing  them  any 
serious  harm.  The  conclusion  arrived  at  by  the  writer  was  that 
the  "  positions  which  Professor  Schaft'  had  already  advanced  were 
such  as  to  lay  the  whole  truth  and  the  grace  of  God,  and  the  whole 
liberty,  hope,  and  salvation  of  the  human  race,  at  the  feet  of  the 
Papacy."  Thus  the  last  article  against  the  Mercersburg  heresy 
came  to  its  climax,  in  language  which,  of  itself,  showed  that  the 
writer  had  all  along  been  pursuing  an  illusion  of  his  own  brain. 

It  was  a  matter  of  deep  regret  among  the  members  of  the  German 
Church  that  the  brethren  in  the  Dutch  Church  were  becoming  es- 
tranged from  them,  and  they  naturally  looked  for  some  one  to  give  a 
statement  of  the  focts  in  the  case.  Dr.  Nevin,  therefore,  published 
an  article  in  the  January"  number  of  the  MercerHhurg  Review  for  the 
year  18.54,  entitled  the  "Dutch  Crusade,"  giving  an  historical  ac- 
count of  the  late  unpleasantness  that  had  sprung  up  between 
brethren  of  the  same  Reformed  faith,  which  would  have  been  amusing, 
if  it  had  not  been  of  such  a  serious  character.     Perhaps  the  denomi- 


Chap.  XXXIII]  dk.  kkuh's  coadjutors  409 

luition  jipplied  to  the  "crusnde"  was  not  strictly  correct.  Neither 
the  editor  of  the  CIn-i.tfiun  Intt'Uigencer,  Dr.  Porter,  nor  the  Bruns- 
wick Professor  had  the  honor  of  bearing  a  Dutch  name,  and  it  may 
be  inferred  that  their  family  training  had  been  more  Puritanic  than 
truly  Dutch.  The  Professor  himself  was  of  Seceder  descent,  as 
one  might  suppose  even  from  his  writings.  Both  were  in  full  sym- 
pathy with  Puritanic  ways  of  thinking,  and  occupying  posts  of  in- 
fluence they  became  representative  opponents  of  the  Anti-Puritan 
movement  in  the  German  Church.  It  was  natural  that  with  their 
Irish  blood  they  should,  vi  et  armis,  uphold  their  Puritan  faith  and 
try  to  suppress  the  supposed  Mercersburg  heresy.  But  were  the}' 
the  proper  persons  to  represent  the  dignity  and  learning  of  the  old 
Dutch  Church,  its  orthodox}^  and  churchliness?  Certain!}-  not. 
This  was  something  for  which  they  lacked  the  necessary  qualifica- 
tions. Professor  Taylor  Lewis,  one  of  her  brightest  ornaments, 
or  some  one  of  the  Van  Dykes,  could  have  performed  this  service 
much  better. — It  should,  however,  be  remarked  that  the  friction 
between  the  two  churches,  which  seemed  to  be  at  the  time  such  a 
terribU;  disaster,  turned  out  in  the  end  to  be,  if  not  a  mere  ripple, 
a  matter  of  no  ver}-  serious  consequence.  The  two  classes  of  peo- 
ple, the  Dutch  and  German,  knew  each  other,  knew  how  closel}' 
the}'  were  related  to  each  other  in  their  past  history,  and  they  did 
not  allow  theological  points  to  rend  asunder  ancient  and  hallowed 
ties.  A  better  spirit  came  to  prevail,  and  at  present  the  two  de- 
nominations, as  a  general  thing,  stand  in  more  friendly  relations 
than  they  probably  ever  did  before. 


26 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

IN  the  Grerman  Reformed  Church,  as  ma}'  be  supposed,  for  a  num- 
ber of  3'ears  there  was  a  continuous  theological  excitement,  espe- 
cially after  the  Mercersburg  Review  made  its  appearance  in  1849. 
The  object  in  all  of  the  discussions  was  in  reality  to  define  her  posi- 
tion and  to  give  her  a  solid  and  rational  basis  of  unity.  But  as  the 
centripetal  force  was  intensified,  the  centrifugal  and  tangential  in 
a  variety  of  wa3^s  asserted  itself.  In  such  circumstances  ardent 
minds  are  prone  to  run  into  extremes  and  oftentimes  into  opposite 
directions.  As  we  have  seen,  several  German  Reformed  ministers 
passed  over  into  other  denominations  and  carried  their  congrega- 
tions with  them;  but  as  histor}'  has  its  opposites,  in  the  lapse  of 
time  the  secessions  were  of  a  different  character,  and  in  this  instance 
the}^  took  place  from  the  Mercersburg  school  itself  "^  Drawn  into 
an  opposite  extreme,  several  young  men,  who  were  prominent  advo- 
cates of  Mercersburg  doctrine,  passed  over  into  the  Catholic  Church 
and  others  followed  them.  The^^  aimed  to  become  leaders  in  the 
theological  movement,  in  their  own  Church;  but  as  it  did  not  seem 
to  advance  rapidly  enough  for  them,  they  fell  out  of  rank,  i-ead 
Catholic  authors  almost  exclusively,  differed  from  their  teachers, 
and  in  apparent  sincerity,  for  the  most  part,  yet  in  some  sort  of  be- 
wilderment, they  sought  refuge  in  the  Roman  Church.  None  of 
them  fully  understood  the  true  Evangelical  faith  nor  the  real  animus 
of  what  they  had  been  taught  in  the  Seminary.  They  were  in  an 
earnest  theological  movement,  but  they  were  not  of  it,  and  their 
withdrawal  from  it,  although  it  tended  to  cast  reproach  upon  it  for 
a  time,  did  in  fact  benefit  it,  serving  as  a  lesson  to  others  that  truth 
is  never  found  in  extremes,  but  as  Aristotle  sa^^s,  always  between 
the  two\. 

Some  of  the  opponents  of  Dr.  Nevin  alleged  that  he  himself  was 
on  the  way  to  Rome,  and  fears  were  entertained  by  some  of  his 
friends  that  he  too,  troubled  and  perplexed  by  the  Church  Question, 
might  lose  his  balance,  and  seek  rest  in  a  system  where  all  questions 
are  settled  by  papal  authorit3^  But  such  an  alternative  was  a  moral 
impossibility  for  a  man  of  his  vigorous  intellectual  and  spiritual 
■  constitution.  He  was  free  during  his  entire  life-time  to  change  his 
views  of  men  and  things  as  he  gained  more  light  and  knowledge,  but 
he  never  changed  his  philosophical  principles.     These  led  him,  as 

(410) 


Chap.  XXXIV]  Romanizing  tendencies  411 

we  have  seen  in  his  eontrovers}'  with  Dr.  Brownson,  to  deny  that 
the  Roman  system,  in  its  inward  weakness,  could  answer  the  great 
question  of  the  age,  whatever  it  ma}-  have  accomplished  in  past 
ages.  Both  logic,  and  philosopli}',  and  Scripture  too  as  understood 
by  Dr.  Nevin,  were  here  an  insuperable  difficulty  in  the  way  of  a  tran- 
sition such  as  was  made  by  Newman.  It  would  have  falsified  his 
most  cherished  convictions  of  truth,  completely  unmanned  him  and 
changed  his  entire  make-up.  We  are  aware  that  others  at  the  time, 
strong  in  intellect  and  learning,  fell  back  upon  the  Latin  Church  as 
their  last  resort,  and  so  Dr.  Nevin,  in  certain  circumstances,  or 
from  sheer  desperation,  might  have  also  done.  Had  the  Church, 
for  instance,  in  which  he  stood,  adopted  pseudo-protestant  princi- 
ples, or  had  she  failed  to  give  him  her  symi)athy  or  denied  him  lib- 
erty of  speech  or  pen,  then  possibl}^  with  no  apparent  mission  at 
home,  he  might,  in  despair  and  no  longer  himself,  have  been  flung  into 
an  alien  region  as  his  only  place  of  refuge.  But  when  he  was  out 
in  deep  waters,  he  paid  no  attention  to  the  phantom  ship  of  St. 
Peter,  and,  with  his  strong  mind,  continued  to  look  up  to  Christ, 
who  took  him  hy  the  hand  and  kept  him  in  the  vessel  of  the  Holy 
Catholic  Church,  to  which  he  properly  belonged. 

In  this  connection  we  furnish  the  reader  an  admirable  descrip- 
tion of  Dr.  Nevin  and  his  status  during  the  latter  part  of  his  life 
at  Mercersburg  by  his  colleague  in  the  Seminary,  with  whom  he 
had  passed  through  many  sharp  conflicts.  When  Dr.  Schaff  was 
in  Germany  in  the  year  1854,  he  was  requested,  by  several  mission- 
ar}-  organizations  at  Berlin,  to  lecture  on  America,  its  political, 
social'  and  religious  condition,  and  out  of  these  lectures  grew  a 
volume  of  278  pages  on  America,  which  was  published  at  Berlin 
in  the  same  year.  In  speaking  of  the  German  Churches  in  Amer- 
ica, he  devoted  a  chapter  to  Dr.  Nevin  and  his  work  in  the  Reformed 
Church,  of  which  we  here  give  a  free  translation,  with  the  permis- 
sion of  the  author. 

Dr.  John  W.  Nevin,  until  quite  recently  Professor  of  Theology 
and  President  of  Marshall  College,  presents  the  rare  example  of  a 
remarkable  union  of  German  and  Anglo-German  culture.  He  is  a 
l)rofound  st-holar,  an  independent  thinker,  an  uucommoidy  earnest 
character,  a  homo  (jrari.s,  as  indeed  his  dignified  external  appear- 
ance would  indicate. 

An  American  and  rigid  Presbyterian  by  birth  :ind  education,  and 
for  ten  years  a  Professor  in  the  Presbyterian  Seminary  at  Allegheny, 
Pa.,  he  imbibed  from  Neander  a  new  idcM  of  Church  Historv,  which 


412  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

affected  his  whole  theology-.  In  his  mature  manhood  by  the  lead- 
ing of  Providence  he  was  called  into  the  service  of  the  German 
Reformed  Church,  identified  himself  with  its  history,  and  studied 
the  leading  phases  of  modern  German  philosophy  and  theology-, 
among  others  also  Kant,  Schelling,  Hegel,  'Daub,  Schleiermacher 
and  Rothe,  without  attaching  himself  slavishl}-  to  an}'  particular 
system.  Such  study  emancipated  him  from  the  fetters  of  Puritan- 
ism, but  it  did  not  lead  him  into  the  path  of  scepticism  or  a  lax 
theology, where  many  others  have  landed.  It  gave  him  a  decidedly 
church  tendenc}',  which  caused  him  to  look  back  longingly-  into 
the  past,  into  the  age  of  the  fathers,  confessors  and  martyrs,  and 
partly  forward  towards  the  ideal  Church  of  the  Future. 

The  "Mystical  Presence,"  published  in  1846,  was  his  first  dog- 
matic-polemic work,  a  Vindication  of  the  Mystical  Presence  of 
Christ  in  the  Lord's  Supper,  and  of  the  actual  participation  of  be- 
lievers in  the  power  of  His  divine-human  life,  in  opposition  to  the 
prevalent  S3mbolical  view  in  America,  which  sees  in  this  sacrament 
only  a  commemoration  of  the  death  of  Christ  now  absent  in  heaven. 
The  theory-  of  this  book  is  substantially  the  Calvinistic  or  ortho- 
dox view,  inasmuch  as  it  advocates  not  a  carnal  real  presence  and 
oi"al  manducation,  but  a  spiritual  real  presence  and  participation, 
mediated  through  faith,  and  therefore  rejects  transubstantiation, 
and  the  Lutheran  theory  of  consubstantiation  so  called,  the  in  and 
suh^  although  not  the  cum  pane  et  vino.  At  the  same  time,  how- 
ever, it  is  a  scientific  statement  and  profound  enlargement  of  the 
view  of  the  Geneva  Reformer,  and  holds  up  emphatically  the  ob- 
jective and  mystical  side  of  the  sacred  transaction  ;  and  is  directed 
not  onl}'  against  the  Romish,  but  also  against  its  opposite  ration- 
alistic extreme. 

Calvin  lays  the  greatest  stress  upon  the  subjective  act  of  the 
soul,  which  is  raised  to  heaven,  where  it  is  nourished  in  an  inexpli- 
cable way  by  the  power  of  the  H0I3"  Ghost  with  the  vis  vivifica  of 
the  caro  Christi;  with  Dr.  Nevin  Christ  is  present  in  the  sacra- 
mental transaction,  as  the  whole,  undivided  divine  human  Christ 
in  his  generic  nature  as  the  Second  Adam,  and  the  life-fountain  of 
the  entire  new  creation,  as  the  head  of  the  Church.  His  body,  the 
fulness  of  Him  that  filleth  all  in  all,  invisible  and  spiritual  of  course, 
but,  nevertheless,  real  and  substantial.  As  such  He  is  presented 
to  believers  as  spiritual  food,  in  order  to  strengthen  their  life-com- 
munion with  Him  already  existing,  so  that  He,  as  St.  Paul  and  the 
Heidelberg  Catechism  express  themselves  so  strongly,  becomes 
more  and  more  "flesh  of  His  flesh  and  bone  of  His  bone." 


Chap.  XXXIV]       an  estimate  of  dr.  nevin  413 

This  view  was  decried  on  all  sides,  even  b}'  so-called  Lutheran 
organs,  as  materialistic,  mystical,  pantheistic,  Puseyistic,  papistic 
and  so  on,  hut  successfully  defended  by  its  author  with  overwhelm- 
ing learning  and  philosophic  dejjth.  Here  he  had  the  great  advan- 
tage that  he  had  on  his  side  substantially  the  most  important  sym- 
bols of  the  Reformed  Church,  which  nearly  all  sprung  up  under 
Calvin's  influence;  especially'  the  Heidelberg  Catechism  and  the 
writings  of  Zacharias  Ursinus;  also  most  of  the  evangelical  theolo- 
gians of  Germany  on  the  more  vital  points,  namely,  in  the  recogni- 
tion of  an  objective,  mystical  element  in  the  Eucharist,  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  one-sided,  exclusively  subjective  and  commemoi'ative 
Zwinglian  view.  If  Dr.  Nevin,  in  his  churchly  and  mystical  ten- 
dency, went  bej'ond  the  boundary  line  of  the  old  Reformed  concep- 
tion, modern  Puritanism  and  Presbyterianism — not  to  speak  of 
American  Lutheranism — certainl}-  went  much  farther  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Sooinian  and  rationalistic  theor^^  of  the  sacraments. 

In  general,  he  is  entitled  to  the  undisputed  merit  of  having 
brought  the  theology  of  the  Reformation  period,  which  is  much 
deeper,  more  spiritual  and  churchly  than  that  of  modern  Puritan- 
ism, in  a  liA'ing  reproduction,  home  to  the  consciousness  of  the  Ger- 
man American  Churches.  That  ma^-  be  seen  in  his  tractate  on  the 
"Anxious  Bench;"  still  more  so  in  the  "  Mj'stical  Presence "  and 
its  defence  against  the  attacks  of  Dr.  Hodge;  and  in  his  excellent 
small  treatise  on  the  Heidelberg  Catechism,  anno  1847.  The  im- 
mediate result  then  was  that  in  a  wider  circle  the  literature  of  the 
Reformation  period  was  more  zealously  studied ;  that  catechetical 
instruction,  which  with  confirmation  had  to  a  certain  extent  been 
set  aside  b}^  Methodistic  influences, as  mere  formalism  and  mechan- 
ism, was  reinstated;  and  the  bond  of  sympathy  with  modern  Ger- 
man theology, Avhich  had  formerl}-  been  so  much  despised  in  America, 
was  restored. 

But  the  movement  did  not  here  stop.  Already  in  the  Mystical 
Presence,  the  idea  of  the  Incarnation  of  Christ  came  to  the  front 
ver}-  clearly,  as  the  central  truth  of  Christianity.  With  this  came 
also  necessarily  a  deeper  comprehension  of  the  Church  as  the  con- 
tinuation of  this  fact;  as  an  unbroken  succession  of  the  divine- 
human  life  of  Christ  in  the  history  of  humanity,  with  the  attributes 
of  unity,  catholicity,  holiness,  apostolicity,  infallibility,  and  inde- 
structibility. 

"With  this  idea  the  present  divided  condition  of  Protestantism, 
especially  in  America,  the  classic  lands  of  sects,  seemed  to  stand 
opposed.     Accordingly'  Dr.  Nevin  unsparing!}'  attacked  the  entire 


414  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DlV.  IX 

American  Sect-system  and  the  arbitrary,  subjective,  unhistorical, 
selfish,  partisan,  persecuting  Sect-spirit  in  his  remarkable  work  on 
Antichrist^  in  1847,  as  the  Anti-Christianity  of  modern  Protestant- 
ism, in  direct  opposition  to  the  general  opinion,  which  confines 
Antichrist  to  the  papacy  and  makes  the  two  identical ;  and  he  more- 
over draws  a  parallel  between  it  and  ancient  Gnosticism,  whose 
fundamental  error  likewise  consisted  in  the  denial  of  the  mystery  of 
the  Incarnation,  and  of  an  objective,  historical  Christianity. 

At  the  same  time  his  interest  in  history,  which  had  driven  him 
back  to  the  Reformation  period,  led  him  further  back  to  a  more 
thorough  stud}^  of  patristic  theology,  and  there  he  saw  more  clearly 
the  difference,  in  form  at  least,  between  it  and  Modern  Protestant 
Christianity,  especially  Puritanism,  partly  through  his  own  inde- 
pendent study  of  the  works  of  Augustine,  Cyprian,  Tertullian, 
Irenjeus  and  so  on;  and  partly  through  the  help  of  modern  works, 
such  as  "Rothe's  Beginnings  of  the  Christian  Church,"  and  Isaac 
Taylor's  "Ancient  Christianity." 

In  the  same  track  with  the  more  recent  German  theology,  he 
studied  with  the  deepest  interest  the  entire  Puseyite  controversy, 
foremost  the  writings  of  Dr.  John  H.  Newman,  with  whom  he  had 
many  points  of  resemblance,  and  read  the  works  of  the  most  im- 
portant Roman  Catholic  apologists  and  polemics,  such  as  Bellar- 
min,  Bossuet,  Moehler,  Wiseman  aud  Balmes,  who  of  course  repre- 
sent their  system  of  faith  in  a  much  more  favorable  light  than  their 
Protestant  opponents,  and  know  how  to  idealize  it,  so  that  to  a 
deep,  earnest  spirit  it  becomes  powerfully  imposing. 

Dr.  Nevin  gave  expression  to  his  newly  gained  ideas  in  the  Mer- 
cersburg  Revieiv^  established  by  his  pupils,  edited  by  him,  and  read 
extensively  beyond  the  Reformed  Church,  more  particularly  in  the 
Episcopal.  He  there  developed,  in  a  series  of  essays  and  reviews, 
full  of  life  and  spirit,  always  going  back  to  fundamental  principles, 
the  doctrine  of  the  Person  of  Christ;  of  the  nature  and  attributes 
of  the  Church,  His  mystical  Body;  of  the  Sacraments;  of  the  the- 
olog}^  of  the  Apostolic  Symbol;  the  difference  between  patristic 
and  American  Christianity;  the  Relation  of  Freedom  to  Authority; 
of  Faith  to  Knowledge;  of  Christianity  to  Civilization;  and  in 
short  the  deepest  questions  of  the  age,  in  which  with  rare  polemic 
ability  and  dexterit}^  he  attacked  popular  errors,  more  particularly, 
religious  and  political  radicalism,  and  the  materialistic  tendency  of 
the  times. 

He  reproduced  and  lived  over  again  the  entire  controversy-  be- 
tween Romanism  and  Protestantism,  and  threw  light  upon  it  from 


Chap.  XXXIV]       an  estimate  of  dr.  nevin  415 

new  points  of  view,  with  constant  reference  to  the  ruling  American 
Church  relations  and  the  prevailing  Puritanic  system.  All  the  con- 
troversies between  the  different  Protestant  bodies,  the  differences 
between  Lutheranism  and  Reform,  Calvinism  and  Arminianism, 
Episcopacy  and  Presbyterianism,  and  so  on,  appear  to  him  always 
more  as  secondary  matters  as  compared  with  the  colossal  antithesis 
of  Romanism  and  Protestantism,  which  has  its  centre-focus  in  the 
doctrine  of  the  Church,  in  the  relation  of  the  supernatural  to  the 
natural.  He,  therefore,  came  more  and  more  to  the  conviction  that 
the  latter  could  not  be  defended  b}-  a  regardless  rejection  of  the 
first,  l)ut  only  as  a  transition  state  to  a  higher  and  better  one,  and 
that  the  contest  against  Rome  can  then  become  effectual  only  as 
Protestantism  itself  seeks  to  bring  about  its  own  regeneration. 

"All  this  is  with  him  no  mere  speculation  but  the  most  serious 
life  question.  In  this  respect  he  is  a  genuine  American,  as  he  looks 
at  everything  from  a  practical  point  of  view,  whilst  a  German  is 
easil}'  satisfied  with  ideas  and  theories.  For  him  the  Church  Ques- 
tion, in  its  widest  extent,  is  not  onlj'  the  greatest  theological  prob- 
lem of  the  present,  but,  at  the  same  time,  one  of  personal  salvation. 

To  this  must  be  added,  that  somewhat  inclined,  we  might  say,  to 
asceticism  and  monasticism,  he  has  an  overwhelming  sense  of  the 
hollowness  and  indescribable  vanit}'  of  the  world,  and  of  all  mere 
natural  life,  even  of  learning  and  science,  and  so,  also,  of  the  abso- 
lute necessity  of  supernatural  light  and  grace.  Although  a  specu- 
lative thinker,  he  is  fully  penetrated  with  the  conviction  that  mere 
speculation  leads  only  to  doubt  and  despair;  that  ever}-  one  must 
enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven  as  a  little  child ;  and  submit  himself 
absolutely  to  an  infallil)le  divine  autliority,  in  order  to  arriA'e  at  a 
saving  Ivuowledge  of  the  truth. 

The  more  the  idea  of  the  supernatural,  as  something  specificallj- 
different  from  the  natural,  and  yet  entering  it  as  the  real  present 
power  of  God  ;  tlie  more  that  the  meaning  of  the  mastery  of  the 
Incarnation  of  God  and  of  one  H0I3',  Catholic  Church,  in  the  sense 
of  the  apostolic  and  post-apostolic  symbols,  took  possession  of  his 
mind  :  just  so  much  the  more  grew  in  him  with  this  knowledge  a 
corresponding  sorrow  over  the  numberless  difficulties  which  sur- 
round modern  Protestantism,  especially  in  America,  but  in  Europe 
also,  where,  in  some  respects,  it  is  still  worse. — These  difficulties, 
of  all  sorts,  gathering  around  his  mind,  as  so  many  dark,  gloomy 
j)ictures,  pursue  him  late  and  earl^',  and  have  almost  crushed  him. 
Thus  Dr.  Neviii  is  the  peculiar  embodiment  of  the  Church's  trouble 
(Kirchenschraerz),  whicli  has  penetrated  many  of  the  most  earnest 


416  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

spirits  of  the  age.  I  do  not  believe  that  any  theologian,  either  of 
the  old  or  new  world,  feels  it  more  keenl}^,  or  praj^s  over  it  more 
zealously,  than  he. 

Under  these  circumstances  not  onl^-  his  opponent  but  also  some 
of  the  friends  of  Dr.  Nevin  have  entertained  the  fear  that  he  might 
submit  to  the  claims  of  Rome,  and  there  find  rest  for  his  troubled 
spirit.  That  would  be  an  act  of  martyrdom,  for  which  he  has  the 
moral  courage  and  self-denial;  but,  although  he  is  just  the  man  to 
sacrifice  every  thing  to  his  religious  convictions,  and  although 
Puritanism  drove  him  to  a  more  favorable  view  of  the  Church  of 
Rome,  nevertheless  on  the  other  hand,  he  understands  full  well  its 
weaknesses,  and  has  exposed  them  be^^ond  refutation,  as  it  seems  to 
me.  in  two  articles  against  Brownson,  the  celebrated  convert,  of  Bos- 
ton. He  showed,  for  instance,  that  the  system  of  mere  authority  and 
blind  subjection,  as  required  by  Rome,  is  in  conflict  with  the  entire 
constitution  of  man  as  formed  for  freedom,  and  with  the  idea  of  per- 
sonality and  the  course  of  history.  Notwithstanding  the  strong 
language,  which  he  used  in  those  articles  regarded  as  most  Romaniz- 
ing,he  leaves  the  way  of  escape  open  in  the  theory  of  historical  devel- 
opment, which  makes  room  for  Protestantism,  as  one  form  of  Chris- 
tianity, although  one-sided  and  transitional,  to  a  much  better  age 
and  a  higher  union  of  what  is  good  in  both  Protestantism  and 
Romanism.  His  entire  philosophical  system  and  his  conception 
of  liistor}"  rest  altogether  on  an  evangelical  Protestant  basis  and 
proceeds  all  along  on  the  necessity  of  a  reconciliation  of  authority 
and  freedom,  of  objectivity  and  subjectivity^,  as  the  prospectus  of 
the  Mercer-sburg  Beview  from  the  start  expressed  itself. 

In  this  theological  movement,  the  German  Reformed  Church,  in 
whose  bosom  it  sprung  up,  has  been  very  much  misunderstood, 
made  responsible  for  the  so-called  "  Mercersburg  Theolog^^,"  and 
bitterly  persecuted  and  slandered  ;  but  she  has  not  adopted  or  sanc- 
tioned any  of  Dr.  Nevin's  peculiar  views;  she  has  simply  refused, 
at  the  beck  of  a  fanatical  and  intolerant  party,  to  condemn  them  as 
heretical,  and  is  willing  that  the  Church  Question,  which  rests  with 
a  heav}^  weight  upon  the  present  age,  should  be  discussed  earnestl}' 
and  under  all  its  aspects,  for  which  a  certain  measure  of  freedom  is 
indispensable. 

Dr.  Nevin  has  thus  far  in  every  instance  gained  the  victory  over 
his  opponents,  and  that  not  by  intrigue,  but  in  the  most  open  and 
honorable  Avay,  b^^  his  writings  and  off-hand  speeches,  in  which,  dis- 
missing all  rhetorical  ornament  and  without  aiming  at  eflTect,  he 
operated   only  through  the  power  of  thought,  presenting  whilst 


Chap,  XXXIY]       an  estimate  of  dr.  nevin  41" 

speaking  the  appearance  of  a  marble  statue,  showing  the  powerful 
inward  nature  only  now  an<l  then  by  the  trembling  movement  of 
his  lips.  Very  properly  the  Synod  has  always  held  his  talents  and 
his  moral  religious  character  in  great  respect,  and  it  will  continue 
to  hold  in  grateful  remembrance  his  conscientious  and  unselfisii 
labors  of  twelve  years  in  the  service  of  her  literary  institutions  at 
Mercersburg. 

The  Synod,  of  which  we  speak,  holds  fast  as  truly  and  firmly  as 
ever  to  her  honored  confession,  which  Dr.  Nevin  in  many  of  his 
writings  has  explained,  defended,  and  recommended  to  be  more  dili- 
gently used  in  Church  and  School,  and  she  will  never  give  it  up 
until  God  Himself,  by  some  new  and  positive  creation  in  the  depart- 
ment of  doctrinal  development,  shall  render  the  old  sj'mbol  super- 
fluous. 

The  only  thing,  which  to  many  may  appear  suspicious,  is  the  cir- 
cumstance that  she  has  made  the  necessary  arrangements  for  the 
formation  of  a  new  Liturgy,  which  will  do  full  justice  to  the  liturgical 
element  in  divine  worship,  as  the  act  of  the  entire  congregation, 
and  make  more  use  of  the  hallowed  prayers  and  formulas  of  the 
ancient  Catholic  Church  than  has  been  the  case  hitherto  in  most 
Reformed  Churches.  To  this,  however,  no  objection  can  be  made 
as  a  Romanizing  tendency,  because  a  similar  movement  to  remodel 
and  enrich  divine  worship  is  confessedly  going  forward  in  the  whole 
Evangelical  Church  of  Germany  and  Switzerland,  which  has  always 
recognized  the  liturgical  principle,  more  or  less,  and  acknowledged 
its  value.  The  Reformed  Synod  confidently  fVills  in  with  this 
movement,  fully  assured  that  it  does  not  lead  to  Romanism  but  to 
the  regeneration  of  Protestantism,  and  wishes  to  contribute  her 
mite  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  period  of  the  true  Universal,  Evan- 
gelical Church,  enriched  with  all  the  treasures  of  truth  gathered  up 
b3'  eighteen  Christian  centuries.  She  has  the  consciousness  that 
the  many  difficulties  that  encompass  the  Church  of  the  present  can- 
not be  overcome  trul}^  and  permanently  by  a  return  to  a  stand-point 
gained  in  the  i)ast,  much  less  to  the  still  greater  difficulties  of  the 
papacy,  but  only  Ijy  a  progressive  onward  movement.  This  is  the 
view  not  only  of  most  of  the  theologians  and  pastors  of  the  Re- 
formed Church  in  America,  but  also  of  the  most  prominent  minds 
in  Europe.  Such  a  faith  and  such  a  hope  certainly  will  not  be 
brought  to  shame. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

DR.  XEVIX  entered  upon  his  duties  in  the  Seminary  at  the 
opening  of  the  Summer  Session  of  1840,  so  noiselessly  and 
unobtrusively,  that  some  of  the  students  scarcely  knew  what  to 
make  of  him.  His  leisure  hours  he  spent  in  phj'sical  exercise,  or  in 
conversation  with  Dr.  Ranch,  in  which  he  always  gave  as  freely  as 
he  received.  Dr.  Ranch,  his  colleague  in  the  Seminary,  taught  the 
branches  that  belonged  to  the  department  of  Biblical  Literature 
until  his  death,  for  less  than  one  year,  when  the  entire  instruction  of 
the  Seminary  devolved  on  Dr.  Xevin,  assisted  only  for  a  brief  period 
bj'  a  Jewish  Rabbi,  who  taught  the  classes  in  the  Hebrew  language. 
He  thus  continued  to  do  the  work,  which  at  the  present  day  occupies 
the  time  of  three  or  four  Professors,  until  the  advent  of  Dr.  Schaff 
'in  1844,  who  relieved  him  of  a  pai't  of  his  burden.  In  the  circum- 
stances he  was  under  the  necessity  of  imparting  instructions  mainly 
by  the  help  of  text-books.  From  the  year  1842  to  1845,  when  the 
writer  was  in  the  Seminary,  each  class  studied  and  recited  from 
Home's  Introduction,  Biblical  History,  with  the  use  of  Shuckford's 
and  Pi'ideanx's  Connections,  Hebrew  Grammar  and  Bible,  the  Greek 
Testament,  Jahn's  Biblical  Antiquities,  Coleman's  Christian  Anti- 
quities, Dick's  Theology,  Mosheim's  Church  History,  Ernesti's 
Hermeneutics,  and  Porter's  Homiletics,  with  lectures  on  Pastoral 
Theology. 

If  now  it  be  asked,  was  not  such  a  course  of  study  inadequate 
and  behind  the  times,  we  reply,  that  none  of  his  students  have  ever 
thought  so.  The  text-books  were  old,  somewhat  antiquated,  called 
into  requisition  because  they  were  the  only  ones  to  be  had.  But 
the  teacher  behind  the  book  was  a  live  professor,  who  understood 
their  defects  no  less  than  their  merits,  always  able  and  ready  to 
bring  forth  things  new  and  old  for  the  edification  of  his  pupils. 
Sometimes  Dick  or  Mosheim  was  forgotten  in  the  class-room,  as  he 
proceeded  in  his  remarks  to  give  more  elevated  views  of  Church 
History,  or  more  profound  and  orthodox  theological  views.  In 
this  way  the  Old  was  useful  and  served  as  the  starting  point  of  the 
New.  His  clear-cut  questions,  not  so  numerous  as  exhaustive, 
were,  in  themselves,  an  intellectual  training.  They  formed  a  skilful 
analysis  of  the  subject  of  the  recitation,  in  which  the  ground,  cause, 
effect,  condition,  or  relations  of  things  were  to  be  clearly  defined 

(418) 


Chap.  XXXV]     as  professor  in  tiik  seminary  4H> 

and  distinguished,  and  his  students  could  not  infer  the  eorre(;t  an- 
swer from  the  form  of  the  question. — At  first  his  remarks,  in  con- 
nection with  the  recitations  in  Dick's  Theology?  ^^'ei'6  brief,  compre- 
hensive, or  epigrammatic;  but,  in  the  course  of  time,  the^-  became 
much  more  free  and  expansive  until  the^'  formed  a  lecture  that  took 
the  place  of  the  lesson  assigned  fur  the  time.  The  students  then, 
of  their  own  accord,  began  to  take  notes  which  swelled  at  length 
into  a  volume  of  considerable  size  and  formed  in  themselves  an  in- 
dependent treatise  or  hand-book  of  Theology,  in  which  the  doc- 
trines of  the  Reformed  Church,  as  the  live  product  of  their  past 
history,  were  set  forth  judiciously,  and  with  singular  care  and  cau- 
tion. Throughout  they  harmonize  with  the  si)irit  of  the  Heidel- 
berg Catechism  better  than  with  the  rigid  school  of  Calvinism.  He 
thus  taught  theology  as  his  own  theological  views  were  developed 
and  matured,  until  he  resigned  his  chair  in  1850.  His  Notes,  left 
behind,  if  published,  would  be  read  witli  profit  by  Christians  gen- 
erally, no  less  than  by  clergymen — as  Nevin^s  Loci  Commune.^. 

As  in  the  College,  so  in  the  Seminar}'  more  or  less  difficulty  Avas  ' 
experienced  in  paying  the  Professors'  salaries.  Efforts  were  made, 
from  time  to  time,  to  remedy  this  difficulty,  but  they  gave  only 
temporary  relief  and  the  financial  spectre  continued  to  face  Dr. 
Xevin  from  j-ear  to  year,  until  at  length  he  came  to  the  conclusion  to 
resign  the  position  in  the  Seminary,  which  he  had  held  for  over  ten 
years.  It  is  quite  likeh^  that  a  desire  to  be  relieved  of  the  respon- 
sibilities of  a  public  office,  and  to  gain  leisure  to  discuss  general 
theological  questions,  had  its  influence  in  inducing  him  to  take  this 
step;  but  in  his  letter  of  resignation,  he  assigns  increasing  financial 
difficulties  as  the  chief  cause  of  his  having  intermitted  his  official 
duties  in  the  Seminary  in  1850.  "This  step,"  he  wrote  in  his  letter 
to  the  Synod,  "was  taken  under  the  feeling  that  something  of  the 
sort  was  necessary  to  engage  proper  attention  to  the  critical 
position  of  the  Institution,  and  with  distinct  reference  to  the  pos- 
sibility of  its  being  preparatory  only  to  an  act  of  full  and  final 
resignation  ;  since  in  the  nature  of  the  case  it  would  not  be  proper 
foi-  me  to  continue  long  in  this  state  of  voluntary  suspense,  in 
which  I  h:\\('  tiius  been  brought  to  stand.  Something  has  been 
done  since  to  i)lace  the  Seminary  in  a  better  condition.  But  the 
way  is  by  no  means  open  for  it  still  to  go  forward  Avith  vigor  and 
comfort  on  the  scale  of  its  present  organization.  Much  is  still 
needed  to  complete  its  endowment  and  to  clear  it  of  debt.  It  is 
plain,  too,  that  to  make  it  of  any  suitable  account,  a  new  impulse 
must  be  given  to  the  cause  of  beneticiarN-  education  among  us,  far 


420  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1814-1853  [DiV.  IX 

beyond  all  that  is  thought  of  in  this  direction  now.  The  Church 
is  not  prepared,  as  it  seems  to  me,  to  carr^^  out  its  present  idea  of 
a  Theological  Seminaiy  with  two  professors  in  a  truly  earnest  waj- ; 
and,  if  such  be  the  case,  it  is  better  at  once  to  reduce  our  views 
and  etforts  to  the  measure  of  this  neeessit3'.  Let  the  Seminary 
proceed  for  a  time  with  one  Professor,  and  whatever  of  surplus 
means  ma}'  be  then  available  for  its  use,  let  them  be  applied  to  pay 
off  its  debts,  while  at  the  same  time  all  needful  exertions  are  made 
to  endow  a  second  Professorship,  and  also  to  create  a  beneficiary 
fund  for  supplying  it  in  part  with  students.  Time  may  be  had  in 
this  way  for  uniting  hereafter  in  some  satisfixctory  choice,  to  fill 
the  important  and  highly  responsible  post  which  I  now  propose  to 
leave  vacant." 

When  the  letter  of  the  Professor  was  read  at  the  S3'nod  of  Lancas- 
ter in  1851,  it  was  referred  to  the  Committee  on  the  Seminary.  At 
first  it  seemed  to  be  thought  that,  as  the  resignation  was  urgent, 
made  in  good  faith,  and  after  mature  consideration,  no  other  course 
was  left  for  the  Synod  but  to  accept  it  with  proper  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  valuable  services  of  the  Professor  during  his  term  of 
office.  But  upon  second  thought,  it  was  felt  that  it  would  be  dis- 
creditable to  the  Church  to  lose  the  service  of  such  a  valuable  ser- 
vant for  onl}'  an  apparent  want  of  means  to  give  him  adequate  finan- 
cial support.  Besides,  it  soon  became  apparent  that,  if  the  Synod 
should  accept  of  the  resignation  without  some  kind  of  a  protest, 
his  opi)onents  would  make  capital  of  it  or  misrepresent  the  standing 
of  the  Professor  as  well  as  the  mind  of  the  Synod  in  regard  to  him, 
A  few  unfortunate  utterances  had  made  their  appearance  in  the 
Weekly  Messenger  a  short  time  before,  and  some  of  the  members 
of  the  S3' nod  were  apprehensive  that  the  public  might  regard  them 
as  the  voice  of  the  Church  in  regard  to  Dr.  Nevin.  The}'  were, 
therefore,  unwilling  to  make  haste  in  cutting  asunder  the  ties  which 
had  bound  them  for  many  ^ears  to  an  honored  professor.  The 
Committee  on  the  State  of  the  Seminar}-,  of  which  Rev.  S.  N.  Cal- 
lender  was  chairman,  recommended  in  their  report  that  Dr.  Nevin 
be  requested  "to  withdraw  his  resignation  and  resume  service  in 
the  Seminary;  and  that,  if  he  should  insist  upon  his  resignation, 
the  Synod  would  3deld  to  his  request  with  great  reluctance,  and 
leave  his  professorship  vacant,  in  the  hope  that  in  the  providence 
of  God  he  might  see  his  wa}'  clear  to  return  to  the  same  at  no  dis- 
tant da3',  and  with  the  expectation  and  decided  wish  for  him  to  re- 
main in  his  present  relation  to  the  College  in  the  meantime."  The 
report  led  to  discussion  and  elicited  a  considerable  amount  of  feel- 


Chap.  XXXV]  final  resignation  4:^1 

ing.  Dr.  Schaft'  took  an  active  part  in  it  and  eloqiiuntly  defended 
the  report.  The  result  showed  that  the  old  opposition  to  the  the- 
ological Professors  remained  the  same  as  at  York  in  1845;  and  that 
in  the  meanwhile  it  had  not  gained  any  material  strength.  There 
were  forty-two  votes  in  favor  of  the  resolution  and  four  in  the 
negative.  The  Synod  acted  wisely  and  with  due  self-respect.  Here 
again,  by  its  vote,  without  concurring  in  all  the  theological  posi- 
tions assumed  by  the  Professors,  it  endorsed  indirectly  the  general 
drift  of  their  teaching,  and  expressed  its  confidence  in  the  integrity 
and  honesty  of  Dr.  Xevin,  that  in  the  professorial  chair,  he  would 
teach  his  students  conscientiousl}'  the  "  old  Reformed  doctrine,"  as 
he  had  done  faithfully  during  the  previous  ^-ears. 

Dr.  Nevin  was  profoundly  affected  by  the  action  of  the  Synod, 
and  rising  from  his  chair,  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes,  he  made  a  most 
eloquent  and  feeling  address  to  his  assembled  brethren.  He  thanked 
them  for  this  expression  of  their  confidence,  and  promised  to  take 
their  request  into  consideration.  He  had  not  made  up  his  mind  to 
withdraw  from  the  Seminar^-,  because  he  thought  he  no  longer 
enjoyed  the  confidence  of  the  Church,  but  was  moved  thereto  by 
considerations  of  altogether  a  different  character.  He  believed 
firmly  that  the  nineteen-twentieth  part  of  the  Church  would  vote  for 
his  remaining  in  his  old  i)osition  instead  of  the  reverse,  a  playful 
remark  for  the  benefit  of  the  editor  who  did  not  mean  all  that  his 
language  implied,  as  he  voted  with  the  fort}' -two  that  Dr.  Xevin 
should  remain  at  his  post.  In  conclusion,  he  assured  the  brethren 
that  their  affection  for  him  was  fully  reciprocated,  and  with  deep 
emotion  said  that  he  loved  this  Synod,  in  which  he  had  been 
laboring  for  years, /row  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  Language  like  this 
from  one  who  seemed  to  have  so  much  iron  or  granite  in  his  consti- 
tution, coming  from  the  heart  went  to  the  heart,  and  drew  tears  of 
reciprocal  affection  from  many  moistened  e^'e-lids. 

There  was  here  much  admiration  for  the.  great  theologian,  the 
philosopher,  the  writer,  and  the  polemic,  who  had  never  allowed 
his  opponent  to  carr\-  off"  any  laurels  from  his  brow  on  the  battle- 
field; but  at  this  jjarting  meeting  on  the  floor  of  the  Synod  at  Lan- 
caster there  was  likewise  a  deep  admiration  for  the  man,  quite  as 
much  as  for  what  he  had  ever  said  or  done.  It  had  before  it  a  pro- 
fessor in  whose  integrity  in  tlie  discharge  of  his  duties  as  a  teacher 
of  theology  the  Church  had  full  confidence;  or  as  one  of  the  delegates 
said,  one  who  possessed  his  full  share  of  old  Roman  virtue;  and  was 
in  the  language  of  the  poet  Horace 

Integer  vitas  scelerisque  purus. 


422  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DlV.  IX 

At  this  same  meeting  of  Synod  a  communication  from  the  Salem 
Reformed  Church,  in  Philadelphia,  was  received,  requesting  the 
Synod  to  release  Dr.  Schaff  from  his  connection  with  the  Seminary, 
with  a  view  to  his  accepting  of  a  call  from  their  congregation. 
The  proceeding  was  allowed  to  take  this  course  by  Dr.  Schaff  so 
that  there  might  be  no  financial  difficulty  in  the  wa^'  of  Dr.  Nevin's 
return  to  the  Seminar}-,  where  his  presence  to  him  seemed  to  be  a 
necessity  But  he  had  made  up  his  mind  fully  to  withdraw,  and 
the  Sjaiod  with  wise  foresight  requested  Dr.  Schaff  to  remain  at  his 
post.  The  latter  then  became  the  sole  professor  until  an  assistant 
could  be  called  in,  and  Dr.  Nevin,  b}^  the  urgent  request  of  the  old 
students,  continued  for  some  period  of  time  to  give  pi'ivate  instruc- 
tions in  Reformed  theology  as  before. 

Immediately  after  the  death  of  Dr.  Ranch,  the  Trustees  of  Mar- 
shall College  urged  Dr.  Nevin  to  accept  of  the  Presidency  in  his 
place.  The  friends  of  the  Institution  generalh'  wished  it  to  be  so, 
and  a  strong  pressure  from  all  quarters  was  brought  to  bear  upon 
his  mind  to  step  in  and  fill  up  the  vacancy.  In  the  circumstances, 
the  existence  of  the  College  seemed  to  be  endangered,  and  all  e^^es 
were  now  turned  towards  Dr.  NeAin  as  the  man  for  the  position.  He, 
however,  refused  to  accept  of  the  appointment  tendered  to  him  in 
good  faith,  but  agreed  to  take  charge  of  Dr.  Ranch's  department, 
and  discharge  all  its  duties  until  the  way  was  open  for  the  perma- 
nent settlement  of  a  new  President.  This  promise  was  given  un- 
der the  impression  that  the  Church  would  rally  and  at  no  distant 
da^'  endow  the  Presidenc3\  To  facilitate  a  movement  of  this  kind 
he  agreed  to  give  his  services  gratuitoush'.  This  he  continued  to 
do  from  year  to  year  until  the  College  was  removed  to  Lancaster 
in  1853;  because,  the  treasury  was  never  in  a  condition  to  make 
any  different  arrangements.  In  this  way  a  young  Institution, 
struggling  for  existence,  was  saA'ed  many  thousand  dollars,  whilst 
it  received  new  vigor  from  the  strong  arm  of  its  President  pro 
tevipore.  He  became  also  President  of  its  Board  of  Trustees,  and 
by  his  wisdom  and  experience  was  of  much  service  to  that  body. 
Being  informed  by  his  friend.  Rev.  Bernard  C.  Wolff,  of  Easton, 
that  Dr.  Traill  Green,  of  the  same  place,  and  for  a  time  Professor 
in  LaFayette  College,  could  be  secured  to  fill  the  department  of 
Natural  Science,  dismissing  for  the  time  the  appointment  of  a  new 
President,  he  immediately  secured  his  appointment,  and  the  new 
Professor  was  on  the  ground  by  the  opening  of  the  summer  term 
in  1841.     He  was  a  most  valuable  acquisition  to  the  College.     He 


Chap.  XXXV]  and  as  president  of  the  college  423 

filled  his  department  with  ability  and  zeal,  and  in  a  short  time 
communicated  his  enthusiasm  for  the  natural  sciences  to  the  stu- 
dents generally.  Previous  to  his  advent  those  studies  were,  in  a 
great  measure,  neglected  for  the  want  of  a  competent  teacher ;  now 
the}'  took  their  place  with  other  branches  in  the  college  curriculum. 
It  was  a  new  departure,  full  of  hope  to  the  College,  which  was 
still  grieving  over  the  death  of  its  first  President.  In  fact  it  helped 
materially  in  redeeming  the  loss  in  the  minds  of  both  students  and 
professors.  Professor  William  M.  Xevin,  a  younger  brother  of 
Dr.  Nevin,  had  been  secured  to  take  charge  of  the  department  of 
Belles-lettres  and  of  the  Ancient  Languages,  in  the  ftill  of  1840, 
who  adorned  his  chair;  Professor  Samuel  W.  Budd,  who  had  been 
the  colleague  of  Dr.  Ranch  in  the  High  School  at  York,  from  the 
year  1833,  and  subse(iuently  at  Mercersburg,  occupied  with  ability 
the  chair  of  Mathematics  and  Astronomy* ;  and  tutors  from  the 
resident  graduates  were  called  in  to  assist  in  the  instruction  of  the 
lower  classes.  The  Faculty,  according  to  the  standard  of  that 
day,  was  full,  and  animated  with  the  spirit  of  the  new  head  and 
in  harmon}'  with  him  did  a  large  amount  of  hard  work,  inspired 
with  the  belief  that  they  were  promoting  a  good  cause,  one  that 
was  to  inure  for  ages,  and  labored  together  thankfully — ad  majorem 
gloriam  Dei. 

The  friends  of  the  institution  rallied  in  a  very  short  time  not- 
withstanding their  great  loss,  and  it  was  gratifying  to  see  the  de- 
gree of  hopefulness  that  sprung  up  under  the  new  inspiration  be- 
fore the  close  of  the  year.  But  in  such  cases  there  is  often  dan- 
ger of  indiscretion  in  attempts  to  meet  expectations  that  cannot  al- 
ways be  realized.  As  the  Institution  seemed  to  be  starting  out  in 
a  new  career  of  success  under  a  vigorous  helmsman,  in  the  course 
uf  a  year  or  two  some  of  the  progressive  Trustees,  resident  in  the 
village,  thought  there  ought  to  be  a  new  and  showy  building  erected 
for  the  College.  It  was  not  actually  needed,  because  the  College 
students  had  been  accommodated  in  the  Seminary  building  with 
comfort  and  ease,  and  the  same  thing  could  be  done  without  diffi- 
culty for  years  to  come.  But  the  proposition  to  build  was  carried 
under  the  impression  that  it  would  help  to  give  fresh  prestige  to 
the  College;  and  an  immense  pile  of  brick  was  hauled  on  the  ground 
for  the  new  building,  apparently'  enough  to  erect  a  second  tower  of 
Babel;  but  when  it  was  ascertained  that  it  would  be  an  expensive 
one.  and  that  it  could  not  be  put  up  without  incurring  a  heavy  debt, 
Dr.  Nevin  insisted  that  the  time  had  come  to  command  a  halt.  It 
was  well  that  he  did  so;  but  what  was  to  be  done  with  the  brick? 


424  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DlV.   IX 

It  was  difficult  to  dispose  of  them,  and  exposed  to  the  weather  they 
were  in  danger  of  disintegrating  into  their  mother  clay.  This  was 
a  prospect  which  caused  many  an  anxious  thought  in  the  mind  of  the 
President  of  the  Board  during  the  storms  of  winter  or  whenever  a 
shower  Came  up  in  summer. 

But  econom}^  and  good  management  prevailed  in  the  end.  A 
moderate  building  for  the  Preparatory  Department  and  a  modest 
Professor's  house  were  erected  and  paid  for.  Still  only  the  smaller 
portion  of  the  brick  were  utilized,  and  the  balance  remained  more 
or  less  exposed  to  the  weather.  Better  it  would  be  to  give  them 
away  than  to  let  them  waste  awa^-;  but  nobod}^  needed  them,  and 
so  the}'  la}'  as  a  burden  on  Dr.  Nevin's  mind,  when  he  had 
many  other  things  to  think  about.  But  necessity  was  the  mother 
of  invention  here  as  well  as  elsewhere.  And  so  the  sequel  went  to 
show.  The  Literary  Societies,  Diagnothian  and  Goethean,  con- 
nected with  the  College,  were  very  active  and  enterprising  in 
those  days;  and  in  the  year  1843  a  few  members  of  progressive 
tendencies  in  small  parties  began  to  discuss  the  question  of  erect- 
ing a  hall  for  their  use.  The  Societies  at  Princeton  had  such  build- 
ings, and  why  should  those  at  Mercersburg  not  haA'e  the  same  ac 
commodations?  The  question  was  an  interesting  one,  and  not 
without  some  enchantment  about  it. 

At  this  point  of  time  Dr.  Nevin,  hearing  of  such  discussions 
and  anxious  to  relieve  his  mind  of  some  of  its  worry,  without 
consulting  with  anybody,  proposed  one  evening  after  prayers 
that  the  Societies  should  erect  for  themselves  literary  halls,  and 
assured  them  that,  if  they  did  so,  the  College  would  supply  them 
with  brick  gratis.  The  offer  was  accepted,  and  the  class  of  1843 
went  to  work  to  collect  the  necessary  funds  from  their  honorary 
members  and  others,  to  erect  their  separate  halls  on  the  College 
grounds.  They  were  successful,  and  in  due  time  they  were  con- 
secrated to  literature  and  science.  The  corner-stone  of  the  Ga3thean 
Hall  was  laid  on  Goethe's  birthday,  August  28,  1844,  and  that 
of  the  Diagnothian  Hall  on  the  birthday  of  American  independ- 
ence, July  4,  1845.  The  erection  of  these  halls  at  Mercersburg 
was  a  feat  of  which  the  students  were  justly  proud,  and  spoke 
volumes  for  their  training,  energy,  intelligence,  and  public  spirit. 
In  the  circumstances  of  the  College  they  were  a  necessity,  and  their 
usefulness  was  felt  in  its  full  extent  after  they  were  finished. 

Ample  provision  was  thus  made  for  the  libraries,  which  now  grew 
more  rapidly  than  before,  whilst  abundant  room  was  made  for  cab- 
inets of  natural  curiosities,  the  beginnings  of  which  were  soon  made. 


Chap.  XXXV]  good  management  42o 

The  main  halls,  where  the  Societies  held  their  meetings,  resembled 
Senate  chambers  on  a  small  scale,  and  could  not  fail  to  inspire  self- 
respect  as  well  as  stimulate  the  students  to  self-improvement  in 
oratory,  debate  and  composition.  The  style  of  the  Halls  was  Gre- 
cian, pure  and  classic,  with  a  portico  supported  b}'  graceful  columns 
in  front,  which  gave  them  a  literary  appearance,  like  temples  de- 
voted to  the  Muses.  They  arrested  the  attention  of  strangers  at 
once  as  the  chief  ornament  of  the  town.  They  were  expected  to 
stand  like  two  fair  daughters  on  either  side  of  the  large  central 
College  building,  which,  however,  was  never  erected,  and  so  they  ap- 
peared only  like  two  fair  orphans.  "It  was  not  seeml^',"  as  Prof 
W.  M.  Nevin  remarked  in  his  address  at  the  laying  of  one  of  the 
corner-stones,  "that  the  Literar}^  Societies  should  remain  secreted 
in  the  main  building  of  a  college  edifice.  They  deserved  to  appear 
publich^  in  tasteful  buildings  of  their  own,  like  daughters,  to  say 
the  least,  on  either  side  of  their  Alma  Mater." 

A  large  portion  of  the  immense  pile  of  bricks  on  the  College 
ground  was  thus  turned  to  account  in  the  erection  of  useful  and 
necessarj-  buildings;  but  a  large  part  of  it  remained  without  an}- 
mission,  and  the  very  sight  of  it  plead  for  redemption  to  some 
higher  use  than  their  return  to  dust  and  ashes.  That  was  accom- 
plished before  the  fingers  of  time  had  accomplished  their  deea}-. 
The  old  church,  in  which  the  students  and  Professors'  families  had 
been  accustomed  to  worship  with  the  Reformed  congregation,  had 
become  dilapidated,  and  was  ill  adapted  for  commencements  or 
other  College  purposes.  It  was  at  the  end  of  the  town,  hard  to  get 
at,  and  repulsive  enough  in  its  external  dismal  appearance  and  in- 
ternal arrangements  to  suggest  the  idea  of  a  prison  or  a  barrack, 
rather  than  a  place  of  devotion.  It  was  in  fact  something  of  a  re- 
flection on  the  Institutions  themselves;  and  those  concerned  with 
them  did  not  feel,  quite  comfortable  when  distinguished  strangers 
visited  the  place,  and  had  to  be  taken  to  the  old  stone  church  to 
unite  in  their  literary  festivities.  The  congregation,  however,  was 
growing  in  grace  with  its  health}'  spiritual  surroundings,  and  the 
good  people  were  anxious  to  rise  out  of  the  dust  and  put  on  more 
beautiful  garments. 

Accordingly,  Dr.  Nevin  told  them  that  if  they  would  go  for- 
ward and  erect  for  themselves  a  new  Church,  the  College  would 
supply  them  with  the  bricks  that  would  be  needed,  which  it  could 
•  easily  do,  as  it  had  still  a  good  supply  on  hand.  The  proposition 
was  accepted,  and  Trinity  Keformed  Churcli  was  erected,  in  which 
the  College  was  forever  to  have  the  right  to  hold  its  coramence- 
27 


426  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.    IX 

ments  and  other  exercises.  Thus  all  the  weather-beaten  bricks  were 
consecrated  to  a  sacred  use,  Dr.  Nevin's  mind  vastly  relieved,  and 
by  his  good  management  much  needed  buildings  were  put  up  that 
most  likely  would  not  have  gone  up  at  all,  if  it  had  not  been  for 
"somebody's  folly"  at  Mercersburg.  Blunders,  like  offences,  it 
seems  must  needs  come,  but  if  sometimes  the}"  must,  it  is  fortunate 
if  there  is  some  one  at  hand  to  turn  them  to  account.  It  is  the 
very  essence  of  good  house-keeping.  The  new  church  gave  an  im- 
pulse to  the  congregation :  it  grew  and  prospered  under  the  cate- 
chetical system  without  any  need  of  the  "  Anxious  Bench  "  or  its 
accompaniments  to  get  it  out  of  the  "gall  of  bitterness."  It  stood 
in  front  of  the  Seminar^'  building,  and  presented  an  appearance  of 
which  the  students  and  professors  had  no  occasion  to  be  ashamed 
when  strangers  visited  their  classic  retreat. 

This  irruption  of  a  great  multitude  of  bricks  upon  College  grounds 
taught  Dr.  Nevin  a  useful  lesson.  It  was  a  fiasco  that  could  not 
be  repeated  without  danger  of  great  harm.  He  had  felt  the  neces- 
sity of  an  economical  administration  of  the  affairs  of  the  College, 
but  from  this  time  onwards  he  insisted  on  it  as  an  imperious  neces- 
sity, and  his  word  as  a  usual  thing  was  law  in  such  matters.  The 
College  went  forward  and  prospered.  It  kept  up  a  good  appearance, 
and  for  efficiency,  thorough  training,  and  the  culture  that  the  grad- 
uates bore  with  them  to  their  homes,  it  compared  with  the  best  in- 
stitutions of  the  kind  in  the  country.  Its  commencements  with  the 
anniversaries  of  the  Literar}-  Societies  were  the  events  of  the  3^ear 
for  Mercersburg  and  a  large  range  of  countr}-  extending  over  into 
Maryland  and  Virginia,  and  round  about  in  Pennsylvania.  Many 
persons  from  a  distance  visited  Mercersburg  on  its  gala-days  once 
or  twice  a  year  to  enjoy  its  festivities — but  some  more  particularly 
to  see  Dr.  Nevin,  Dr.  Schaff  and  their  colleagues. 

Back,  however,  of  these  pleasant  features  and  appearances,  was 
the  financial  question — thie  gaunt  spectre,  which  the  Faculty,  the 
inner  circle,  had  to  contemplate  from  month  to  month.  They  were 
hard  workers,  usually  performing  more  than  their  share  of  service, 
and  tliey  had  a  noble,  generous  head,  who,  renouncing  all  remunera- 
tion for  his  services,  enabled  them  to  draw  their  salaries  on  de- 
mand and  to  enjoy  the  comforts  of  life  in  a  respectable  and  eco- 
nomical way.  But  this  state  of  things  could  not  continue  forever. 
Even  Samsonian  shoulders  will  wear  out  in  consequence  of  the 
wear  and  tear  of  time,  and  it  is  seldom  that  they  can  be  replaced. 
Moreover  the  financial  status  did  not  improve:  in  truth,  it  grew 
worse,  until  the  sad  necessity  loomed  up  that  in  the  course  of  time 


Chap,  XXXV]  true  education  427 

the  College  might  have  to  be  changed  back  again  into  a  High 
School,  in  order  to  maintain  its  existence  and  do  the  work  for 
Avhich  it  was  intended.  In  due  season,  however,  Providence  itself 
intervened  in  its  behalf,  as  we  shall  see,  and  opened  wide  the  door 
for  its  future  success  by  its  removal  to  Lancaster,  Pa. 

In  the  College  all  the  branches  of  a  liberal  education  were  suc- 
cessfully' taught  as  in  sister  institutions,  and  in  this  respect  it  did 
not  differ  from  them  in  any  material  respect.  It  did  however  differ 
considerably  from  its  sisters  in  the  predominance  which  it  gave  to 
the  religious  eloment  in  the  process  of  education,  together  with  its 
enthusiasm  for  the  German  language  and  German  literature.  Re- 
ligious training  received  an  emphasis,  not  in  words  simply  but  in 
reality  also,  which  from  inadequate  views  of  the  subject  it  did  not 
always  receive  in  prominent  schools  of  learning  elsewhere.  Various 
causes  happih'  combined  to  bring  about  this  order  of  things.  The 
College  was  closely-  connected  with  the  Theological  Seminary  ;  both 
classes  of  students  roomed  together  in  the  same  building ;  and  the- 
ology was  quite  as  prominent  a  theme  of  conversation  as  science, 
philosophy  or  g3'mnastics, — and  rather  more  so.  Dr.  Ranch,  the 
first  President,  was,  as  he  aimed  to  be,  a  Christian  philosopher, 
and  in  his  lectures  alwa3's  endeavored  to  show  the  vital  connection 
that  should  subsist  between  all  true  culture  and  Christianit\'. 

Dr.  Nevin,  in  his  responsible  position,  felt  it  to  be  incumbent  on 
him  to  see  that  a  truly  Christian  spirit  should  pervade  the  Institu- 
tions with  which  he  stood  connected.  In  addition  to  the  usual  re- 
ligious services,  intended  more  particularly  to  promote  this  object 
in  the  Institution,  he  availed  himself  of  opportiuiities  in  his  class- 
room, especially  in  the  department  of  Moral  Philosophy,  to  imbue 
the  minds  of  the  students  with  reverence  for  divine  revelation. 
Tiie  system  of  morals  which  he  taught  was  substantially  Raucirs 
Christian  Ethics,  which  the  author  had  left  behind  in  manuscript 
notes.  Here  all  true  morality  was  made  to  take  its  rise  in  the  di- 
vine law  or  will,  irrespective  of  utility  or  merely  human  systems. 
Much  interest  in  this  study  was  excited  in  the  minds  of  the  stu- 
dents, and  they  were  made  to  feel  that  philosophy  or  metaphysics 
Avas  not  to  be  taught  mainly  as  so  much  mental  training,  but  also 
for  that  higher  end.  which  Avas  moral  and  spiritual.  This  aspect  of 
the  subject  arrested  the  attention  even  of  thoughtless,  worldly  stu- 
dents, and  salutary  impressions  were  made  on  their  minds  that 
were  never  erased. 

Some  of  them  were  accustomed  to  say  that  the  lectures  were  ser- 
mons, just  as  they  regarded   his  sermons  as  lectures.     Delivered 


428  AT    MERCERSBURG   FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

during  their  last  3'ear  in  the  College  the}^  were  received,  as  they 
were  intended  to  be,  as  the  sublime  finale  of  the  college  course. 
Some  who  entered  college  as  sceptics  had  lost  their  infidelity  by 
the  time  the.y  came  to  graduate,  and  evinced  a  reverential  regard 
for  Christ  and  His  divine  person ;  and  some  who  had  been  vicious 
or  immoral  in  their  lives  became  members  of  the  Christian  Church 
in  after  life,  evidently  more  or  less  under  the  influence  of  their 
college  training.  Few  if  an^-  of  the  graduates  left  Mercersburg 
as  infidels  or  unbelievers. 

Nevertheless  colleges  need  discipline  no  less  than  good  instruc- 
tions. Much  maj"  be  accomplished  in  imbuing  the  minds  of  stu- 
dents with  correct  views  of  morality,  and  b}-  holding  up  to  their  mind 
the  ideal  of  purity  and  truth  as  exemplified  in  the  character  of 
Christ;  but  as  in  other  families  of  a  larger  or  smaller  size, they  need, 
at  times,  the  application  of  the  law  and  the  use  of  the  rod.  At 
first  there  was  an  apprehension  on  the  part  of  some  of  the  students 
of  Marshall  College,  and  an  expectation  on  the  part  of  others, 
that  Dr.  Nevin  would  rule  the  college  with  rigor.  He  ruled  him- 
self in  that  way,  and  as  he  was,  apparently,  an  austere  or  hard  man, 
it  was  naturally  thought  that  the  mild  discipline  of  the  College, 
hitherto  prevalent,  would  be  changed  into  something  that  would 
suit  a  body  of  soldiers  in  their  barracks.  But  severe  as  he  was  to- 
wards himself,  it  was  soon  ascertained  that,  whilst  he  was  bound  to 
enforce  the  laws  and  maintain  order,  he  was  mild,  considerate,  and 
a  paterfamilias  towards  all  alike,  not  disposed  to  make  a  mountain 
out  of  a  molehill,  nor  to  suppose  that  the  existence  of  the  institu- 
tion rested  on  a  trifle. — He  had  scarcely  entered  upon  his  duties 
when  several  students  were  brought  before  the  Faculty  for  some 
sort  of  misdemeanor,  perhaps  for  swearing  or  lying.  Fortunately 
the}^  told  the  truth,  acknowledging  their  error,  which  Dr.  Nevin 
thought  redounded  to  their  credit.  He  accordingh^  gave  them  credit 
for  this  and  dismissed  them  without  any  further  formalit}',  telling 
them  to  go  and  sin  no  more.  From  that  time  onwards  he  enjoyed 
the  confidence  of  the  students,  moral  and  immoral.  Thej^  con- 
fessed their  faults,  and  he  then  gave  them  his  fatherly  counsel  and 
advice. 

On  one  occasion,  however,  he  had  what  he  regarded  as  a  hard 
case  to  manage.  A  student  had  become  infiituated  with  his  admira- 
tion for  Lord  B3'ron  and  his  works.  He  wore  a  Byronic  collar, and 
drank  brand3", alleging  that  it  was  an  inspiration  to  his  favorite  poet 
in  writing  some  of  his  grandest  poems — that  it  was  the  best  stim- 
ulus in  the  development  of  genius — his  own  no  doubt  included.  Ya- 


Chap.  XXXY]  paternal  discipline  429 

rious  expedients  hud  been  einplo^'ed  by  the  Faculty  to  bring  him  to 
a  reasonable  mind,  but  they  all  seemed  to  be  labor  lost.  There  was 
something  about  his  veiy  appearance  that  was  not  regarded  as  al- 
together reassuring — something  of  the  Corsair  rather  than  the  By- 
ronic  or  poetical.  He  called  to  see  Dr.  Nevin  one  dark  and  stormy 
night  in  his  study  and  wished  to  have  a  conversation  with  him. 
The  Doctor  gave  him  a  seat  as  far  from  his  own  as  possible,  eyed 
him  very  closely,  and  was  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  make  of  him. 
Under  all  the  circumstances  the  thought  occurred  to  him  that  he 
might  have  come  with  some  sinister  or  evil  intention, — to  get  satis- 
faction, perhaps,  for  some  imaginary-  wrong.  He  made  his  object 
known  at  once  by  saying  that  he  thought  he  ought  to  stud}'  for  the 
ministry  and  had  come  to  ask  for  counsel  and  advice.  He  was  un- 
der the  impression  that  his  life  was  uncertain,  and  felt  that  he  ought 
to  redeem  his  time  whilst  his  life  lasted.  He  was  evidently  sincere, 
and  he  was  encouraged  to  carry  out  his  good  purpose,  as  it  seemed 
to  be  an  inspiration  from  above.  He  subsequently'  studied  theolog}^, 
became  a  useful  minister  in  the  Reformed  Church,  then  afterward 
in  the  Episcopal,  and  died  in  peace,  whilst  still  comparatively 
young. — His  name  was  Aaron  Christman. 

On  another  occasion,  the  Faculty  thought  the^'  had  sufficient 
reason  to  exercise  discipline  in  the  case  of  a  breezy  Freshman,  but 
the}'  erred  just  as  the  Faculty  of  Yale  College  did  a  long  time  ago 
in  the  case  of  David  Brainerd,  the  celebrated  missionary  among 
the  Indians.  They  failed  to  hear  both  sides,  but  they  did  not  sup- 
pose, like  the  ancient  Faculty  at  New  Haven,  that  their  action  was 
like  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and  the  Persians,  that  could  not  be 
changed.  Brainerd  was  not  restored  to  his  place  but  the  Freshman 
was. — We  here  give  substantially  the  facts  in  the  case  as  given  us 
in  a  letter  b}-  the  Freshman  after  he  had  grown  up  to  be  a  dis- 
tinguished civilian. 

On  a  certain  Monday  morning  he  received  a  note,  as  he  says,  to 
appear  before  Dr.  Xevin,and  after  he  was  introduced  into  his  study 
he  was  at  once  informed  that  his  connection  with  the  College  was 
ended ;  that  on  the  previous  Saturday  the  Faculty  had  expelled 
him ;  and  that  he  was  required  to  leave  the  College  and  the  town 
tliat  same  day.  Not  being  conscious  of  any  dereliction,  except 
tiiat  he  had  been  out  of  town  on  Sunday  without  permission,  he 
made  some  remonstrances  in  an  irritated  manner,  but  was  quickly 
interrupted  by  the  Doctor,  who  informed  him  that  he  was  expelled 
for  a  totally  different  offence:  that  on  the  Friday  night  previous 
there  had  been  a  drunken  and  riotous  demonstration  on  the  streets 


430  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

of  the  town,  which  was  annoying  to  the  citizens  and  disgraceful  to 
all  concerned ;  that  he  was  not  only  a  participant,  but  the  leading 
actor  in  the  shameful  scenes  enacted ;  and  that  he  had  been  expelled 
for  this  transgression.  He  affirmed  that  he  had  not  been  outside 
of  the  campus  that  Friday  night,  and  that  he  had  no  more  to  do 
with  the  occurrence  complained  of  than  any  member  of  the  Faculty 
who  had  pronounced  sentence  upon  him.  Tlie  Doctor  interposed, 
and  in  a  mild  but  very  decided  manner  told  him  that  the  Faculty 
regarded  the  evidence  against  him  as  ample,  and  that  there  was 
onl}'  one  thing  left  for  him  to  do,  to  leave  the  College  and  the  town. 

When  he  arose  from  his  seat  to  leave,  his  excitement  and  emo- 
tions overpowered  him,  and,  as  he  informed  us,  he  "blubbered  like 
a  boy."  Dr.  JsTevin  followed  him  to  the  porch,  gave  him  his  hand  in 
good-bye,  and  said  in  substance  that  whilst  he  recognized  no  reason 
for  regret  in  the  action  of  the  Faculty,  yet  it  was  deeply  painful  to 
him  to  contemplate  the  cloud  with  which  his  own  conduct  had 
blighted  his  name  and  cliaracter;  for  the  evidence  which  identified 
him  with  the  occurrence  upder  consideration  was  ample  and  satis- 
factory to  the  Faculty.  He  then  left,  still  weeping,  walked  from 
the  yard  to  the  College  Campus,  crossed  it,  and  as  he  turned  to 
ascend  the  steps  leading  to  the  portico,  he  saw  Dr.  Nevin  still 
standing  on  his  porch  with  his  face  towards  him.  At  the  moment 
he  still  looked  sternly  at  him,  as  he  thought,  but  it  was  in  reality 
the  father  looking  after  a  supposed  prodigal  leaving  his  house, 
where  there  w^as  bread  enough  and  to  spare. 

He  left  the  College  and  the  town  that  day.  It  was  a  severe  blow 
to  his  mother,  who  was  a  widow,  who  had  been  cherishing  fond 
hopes  that  he  would  make  his  mark  high  up  somewhere  in  the 
world  and  be  a  comfort  to  her  in  her  declining  years.  Other  friends 
had  expectations  that  he  would  some  daj^  reflect  credit  on  his  name 
and  family.  He  still  asserted  his  innocence,  but  many  hearts  were 
sad.  Soon  afterwards,  however,  it  was  ascertained  that  a  mistake 
had  been  made,  that  he  told  the  truth,  and  that  the  innocent  had 
suffered  for  the  guilt}.  At  the  end  of  two  weeks  or  ten  days  after 
he  reached  home,  his  mother  received  a  letter  from  Prof.  William 
M.  Nevin,  explanatory  of  the  case,  which  she  preserved  and  cher- 
ished to  the  day  of  her  death.  It  stated  that  the  sentence  of  ex- 
pulsion against  him  had  been  revoked,  and  recommended  that  he 
should  be  returned,  to  resume  his  standing  and  undergo  his  exam- 
ination preparatory  to  entering  the  Sophomore  Class.  This  w^as 
done,  and  he  alwa3's  was  sure  that  the  reversal  and  annulment  of 
the  sentence  of  expulsion  was  due  to  the  intervention  of  Dr.  Nevin, 


ClIAP.  XXXV]  GOOD    RESULTS  431 

as  he  was  the  only  member  of  the  Faciilt3'  to  whom  he  had  pleaded 
innocence,  and  who  knew  anything  of  the  grounds  of  his  defence. 
Three  years  afterwards  when  the  Facultj^  met  to  confer  the 
honors  of  the  graduating  class  of  1849,  Dr.  Nevih  was  present  and 
l)residing.  After  announcing  all  the  other  honors  he  came  to  the 
A'aledictorian,  and  then  there  was  a  pause,  a  suspense,  and  a  silence 
scarcely  broken  bj'  a  drawn  beneath.  "  In  a  tone  and  mannei-,^^  he 
once  told  us,  "the  recollections  of  which  revive  at  this  day — with 
the  same  throbbing  emotions  inspired  man}-  3'ears  ago  in  my  bosom 
— the  Doctor  alluded  to  the  sentence  of  expulsion  that  had  been 
pronounced  on  one  of  the  members  of  the  class,  three  j'ears  be- 
fore, and  whilst  he  expressed  satisfaction  in  the  reversal  of  the 
sentence,  he  spoke  in  a  dignified  but  feeling  manner  of  the  gratifi- 
cation experienced  in  being  able  to  confer  this  collegiate  honor  on 
a  name  that  had  l)een  wronged  by  that  judgment.'' — His  Valedic- 
tory was  of  a  high  order,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  ever  delivered, 
singularly  tou(!hing  and  delicate  in  its  address  to  the  Faculty  and 
its  learned  head,  which  everybody  felt  and  appreciated. — The  Vale- 
dictorian subsequently  became  distinguished  in  various  capacities, 
and  has  reflected  credit  upon  his  family,  his  alma  mater  and  his 
native  State  of  Maryland  at  the  bar  and  elsewhere,  as  an  orator, 
omni  laude  cumulatus. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

WHEN  Dr.  Nevin  consented  to  serve  as  President  of  Marshall 
College  at  Mercersburg,  in  the  Spring  of  1841,  it  was  in- 
tended, as  already  said,  that  the  arrangement  should  be  only  tem- 
porarj %  He  supposed  that  in  the  course  of  a  few  3- ears  the  endow- 
ment of  the  College  would  be  so  enlarged  as  to  open  the  way  for 
the  support,  in  a  respectable  manner,  not  onl}^  of  a  full  force  of 
professors  but  of  a  president  also.  In  this  expectation,  however, 
he  was  doomed  to  disappointment.  The  institution  kept  up  ap- 
pearances and  did  its  work  of  instruction  in  the  best  style ;  but  it 
continued  to  be  all  along  in  a  precarious  financial  condition,  and 
its  continuance  depended  largely  on  the  gratuitous  services  of  its 
temporary  president,  which,  from  ill  health  or  other  causes,  might 
fail  at  any  time,  and  as  a  consequence  inflict  serious  harm  upon  its. 
best  interests.  Such  a  status  of  affairs  often  saddened  Dr.  Nevin's 
mind.  At  times  it  appeared  to  him  that  the  whole  enterprise  upon 
which  he  had  bestowed  so  much  labor  and  thought  might  collapse 
at  any  moment.  On  one  occasion,  in  the  j^ear  1849,  he  with  other 
members  of  the  Faculty  met  in  the  family  of  the  Rev.  John  Casper 
Bucher,  a  Reformed  clergj-man  then  residing  at  Mercersburg;  and 
in  the  coarse  of  conversation  the  difficulty  of  keeping  the  College 
afloat  came  up,  and  the  question  was  asked  whether  it  might  not  in 
some  way  be  united  with  Franklin  College  at  Lancaster,  an  institu- 
tion in  which  the  Reformed  Church  owned  a  one-third  interest. 
Mr.  Bucher,  who  was  a  trustee  of  the  latter  institution,  was  in 
favor  of  such  a  suggestion  and  thought  it  could  be  carried  out.  It 
was  then  agreed  that  something  of  the  nature  of  a  proposal  to  that 
effect  should  be  sent  to  Lancaster.  But  strange  to  say  the  same 
arrangement  had  been  under  consideration,  on  the  part  of  some 
persons,  at  least,  at  Lancaster.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Samuel  W.  Bowman, 
afterwards  an  Episcopal  bishop,  on  his  own  responsibilit}^,  under- 
took to  write  a  private  letter  to  Mr.  Bucher,  proposing  the  consol- 
idation of  the  two  institutions  in  a  new  one  at  Lancaster.  The 
two  letters,  embodying  the  same  proposition,  passed  each  other  on 
the  way  to  their  respective  places  of  destination. — Franklin  College 
was  owned  by  three  parties.  One-third  of  the  Trustees,  according 
to  the  the  charter,  were  members  of  the  Reformed  Church,  one- 
third  of  the  Lutheran,  and  the  other  third  were  to  be  the  represent- 

(432) 


Chap.  XXXYI]  franklin  college  433 

atives  of  the  community  gencrnlly.  It  received  its  charter  from 
the  State  of  Pennsylvania  in  178T,  largelj-,  it  is  said,  through  the 
influence  of  Benjamin  Franklin,  together  with  tlie  grant  of  ten 
thousand  acres  of  land  in  the  northern  part  of  the  State  as  an  en- 
dowment. In  the  beginning  it  was  intended  to  be  a  school  of  high 
grade  like  Trinceton  or  Yale  College,  for  the  benefit  of  the  large 
population  of  the  State  that  were  of  German  extraction. 

According  to  the  charter,  granted  b3'  the  Legislature  under  Gov- 
ernor Andrew  Shulze,  in  1187,  it  was  intended  for  "the  instruction 
of  the  Aouth  in  the  German,  English,  Latin,  Greek  and  other  learned 
languages,  in  Theology,  and  in  the  useful  arts,  sciences  and  litera- 
ture; and  from  a  profound  respect  for  the  talents,  virtues,  services 
to  mankind  in  general,  but  more  especially  to  this  commonwealth, 
of  his  Excellency,  Benjamin  Franklin,  Esquire,  President  of  the 
Supreme  Executive  Council,  the  said  College  shall  be  and  hereby 
is  denominated  Franklin  College.^'' — For  various  reasons,  the  origi- 
nal design  of  the  institution  was  not  carried  out,  and  it  never  be- 
came anything  more  than  a  respeetnble  Classical  or  High  School 
for  the  city  of  Lancaster. 

But  after  the  lapse  of  man}-  years  its  lands  came  into  the  market, 
its  funds  increased,  and  just  at  the  time  that  Marshall  College  at 
Mercersburg  had  a  severe  struggle  for  existence,  it  was  thought  by 
some  of  the  more  progressive  Trustees  of  Franklin  College  that  the 
time  had  arrived  when  the  original  intention  of  their  institution 
should  be  carried  out  in  the  establishment  of  an  institution  of  the 
highest  gnide  at  Lancaster.  But  as  thei'e  w'cre  already  numerous 
colleges  in  the  State,  a  part  of  the  Trustees  thought  it  would  be 
better  to  diminish  rather  than  to  increase  the  number.  Accord- 
ingly, influenced  to  a  large  extent  hy  the  reputation  of  the  Mercers- 
burg Professors,  the3^  were  successful  in  securing  a  majority  of 
their  number  to  vote  in  favor  of  consolidation  Avith  Marshall  Col- 
lege. It  was  hoped  at  first  by  some  of  the  more  liberal  minded 
members  of  the  Board  that  the  new  institution  should  become  a 
Union  College  under  the  control  of  the  Lutheran  and  Reformed 
denominations.  That  would  have  enlarged  its  patronage  and  helped 
to  make  it  the  central  College  of  the  State.  But  the  time  had  not 
yet  come  for  the  realization  of  such  a  liberal  and  noble  idea. 

It  was  thought  or  felt,  that  it  would  woi'k  better  in  practice  if 
the  College  was  left  to  the  control  of  a  single  denomination.  It 
was,  therefore,  agreed  that  the  Reformed  Chureli  should  pay  the 
Lutherans  one-third  of  the  value  of  the  Franklin  College  pro|)erty, 
aniouiitin<r  to  SI  7.000,  which  was  to  be  devoted  to  the  endowment 


434  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

of  the  Franklin  Professorship  in  Penns3'lvaiiia  College,  a  prominent 
Lutheran  institution  at  Gettysburg,  Pa.  This  amount  of  money, 
freely  contributed  by  the  Reformed  churches,  was  promptly  paid 
over  on  demand,  and  the  arrangement  came  to  be  regarded  as 
satisfactory  on  all  sides. 

Thus  the  coast  seemed  to  be  clear  at  Lancaster,  but  there  were  se- 
rious difflcuties  in  the  way,  both  there  aild  elsewhere,  that  had  to 
be  encountered  befoi'e  the  marriage  of  the  two  institutions  could 
be  celebrated.  The  Trustees  of  Marshall  College  were  an  incorpo- 
rated body,  and  their  consent  had  to  be  secured  before  the  interest 
could  be  taken  out  of  their  hands.  A  large  portion  of  their  num- 
ber resided  at  Mercersburg  or  not  far  away,  and  the  institution  had 
enlisted  a  large  amount  of  local  pride  which  it  was  difficult  to  over- 
come. They  met  at  Chambersburg  on  the  2fith  of  December,  1849, 
to  consider  the  proposition  made  by  the  Trustees  of  Franklin  College 
to  consolidate  the  two  institutions.  Fortunately  those  of  their  num- 
ber residing  at  a  distance  were  prompt  in  their  attendance.  After 
a  long  struggle  the  vote  in  favor  of  the  removal  of  the  College  to 
Lancaster  was  carried  by  a  fair  majority.  This  was  accomplished 
mainly  by  the  strong  personal  influence  of  the  President  of  Mar- 
shall College,  who  was  present  and  advocated  the  measure  with 
much  earnestness  as  a  necessity ;  and  a  clear  intimation  of  Provi- 
dence that  it  was  a  duty  devolving  on  those  present.  He  gave  a 
plain  statement  of  the  precarious  condition  of  the  College,  and  the 
absolute  necessity  of  immediate  relief  to  prevent  disaster  to  its 
most  vital  interests  in  the  near  future.  His  unvarnished  tale,  taken 
in  connection  with  the  record  of  his  own  arduous  labors  and  self- 
sacrifices,  carried  the  day,  and  the  Reformed  Trustees, — Wolff, 
Heyser,  Rickenbaugh,  Ruby,  Kelker,  Gloninger,  Schell,  Orr,  Smith 
and  others  of  Chambersburg  or  the  vicinit}',  stood  by  him,  nobly 
foregoing  their  local  feelings  or  prejudices, and  willing  to  make  an}' 
sacrifice  to  promote  the  public  interest.  The  Hon.  David  Krause, 
of  Norristown,  Pa.,  a  learned  civilian,  was  also  present,  who,  with 
his  thorough  knowledge  of  law,  made  it  clear  that  there  was  no  legal 
difficulty  in  the  way  of  the  proposed  removal,  and  that  in  the  cir 
cumstances  it  inflicted  no  injustice  upon  any  persons  concerned. 

When  the  Act  of  Consolidation  came  before  the  Legislature  of 
Pennsylvania,  early  in  the  year  1850,  it  was  thought  that  the  neces- 
sary legislation  could  be  secured  without  difficulty  or  delay.  But 
it  turned  out  that  this  was  a  mistake.  It  was  ascertained  that  in- 
fluences were  at  work  to  bury  the  whole  project  beyond  the  possi- 
bility of  a  resurrection  by  methods  best  known  to  politicians  of  a 


ClIAP.  XXX Y I]  THE    CONSOLIDATION  435 

low  Older.  It  was,  tlKTefore,  deemed  necessiirv  for  Dr.  Xevin  to 
be  on  the  ground  at  Harrisburg  and  spend  a  part  of  his  time  as  a 
lobl)yist — a  strange  occupation  for  a  Professor  of  tlieology,  but  it 
is  correct  to  say  that  he  discharged  this  new  function  reniarkal)ly 
well.  He  found  no  one  si)ecially  interested  in  the  movement,  which 
he  regarded  as  one  of  the  greatest  importance  to  the  State  at  large 
as  well  as  to  the  Church.'  Some  in(iuiries — sad  to  say — had  been 
made  whether  there  was  any  money  in  the  affair,  and  some,  it  seems, 
were  waiting  to  see  how  much  of  it  was  available  before  they  were 
called  oh  to  vote.  The  Professor  was  somewhat  shocked  at  such 
an  idea,  hut  when  he  was  asked  the  question,  he  took  it  coolly  and 
replied  that  nothing  of  the  kind  had  been  contemplated.  Having 
found  several  intelligent  listeners,  one  especially  from  the  western 
part  of  the  State,  he  explained  to  them  the  bearings  of  the  pro- 
posed measure,  that  it  was  one  of  a  purely  benevolent  character, 
but  of  vast  importance  to  the  State,  and  that  in  itself  it  was  entitled 
to  a  prompt  apj)roval  by  the  Legislature.  His  hearers,  when  they 
were  thus  better  instructed,  informed  him  that  in  such  a  view  of 
the  case  there  would  be  no  difficulty-  in  either  house.  When,  there- 
fore, it  came  up  for  consideration  in  both  places,  it  had  generous 
minded  men  to  vouch  for  its  approval  and  the  bill  was  passed, 
leaving  no  further  room  for  log-rolling,  as  it  is  called.  The  new 
charter  was  one  of  the  most  liberal  kind  ever  granted  by  the  State. 

At  Lancaster,  at  the  time  the  largest  inland  city  in  Pennsylva- 
nia, there  was  considerable  excitement,  when  it  was  ascertained 
that  a  College  was  to  be  shortly  located  within  its  limits.  The 
peoi)le  were  of  two  opinions,  pro  and  con.  Some  of  them,  misin- 
formed and  misled,  regarded  its  advent  as  a  calamity  that  ought, 
l)y  all  means,  to  be  averted.  Stories  of  College  tricks  and  pranks 
were  freely  circulated,  until  some  of  the  deluded  people  began  to 
fear  that  they  would  not  be  safe  in  their  houses,  nor  their  poultry 
on  their  roosts  at  night,  if  wild  students  should  come  to  live  among 
them.  At  length  it  was  deemed  best  to  call  a  public  meeting  and 
have  the  matter  discussed  and  ventilated,  so  that  all  might  receive 
proper  information  and  learn  how  the  matter  stood.  It  was  largely 
attended  and  the  Court-house  was  crowded  with  interested  listeners. 

Dr.  S.  W.  liowman,  not  accustomed  to  address  meetings  of  this 
deserii»tion  but  always  eloquent  in  tlie  pulpit,  made  on  this  occa- 
sion a  thrilling  speech.  Some  of  his  hearers  thought  that  the  High 
School  was  all  that  was  needed  for  the  puri>ose  of  an  education, 
and  were  ai)prehensive  that  it  might,  in  some  way,  be  eclipsed  by 
the  college.    The  Doctor,  therefore,  dilated  on  the  value  of  a  higher 


436  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

educcition  than  anything  that  could  be  secured  in  high  schools  gener- 
ally. In  his  remarks  he  very  felicitously  referred  to  the  Hon.  James 
Buchanan,  sitting  in  the  audience,  who  had  just  returned  from 
England  as  American  Minister,  and  quoted  him  as  an  illustration 
of  the  benefit  of  a  classical  or  college  education.  The  remark  re- 
ceived due  credit  from  Mr.  Buchanan's  numerous  friends,  but  the 
opposition  to  the  college  project  was  represented  by  some  able 
men  of  the  bar  or  others,  and  it  was  deemed  the  part  of  prudence 
not  to  take  any  A'^ote  at  this  meeting,  but  to  appoint  a  day  on  which 
all  the  people  could  express  their  sentiment  at  the  polls  b5"  voting 
on  the  question  of  College  or  No  College.  It  was  believed  that 
the  College  would  win  the  day,  and  understood  that  all  hands  af- 
terwards would  be  satisfied  with  the  decision  of  the  majority. 

The  friends  of  the  College  at  first  had  no  apprehension  that  there 
would  be  any  danger  in  the  application  of  such  a  test  as  this,  but  to 
their  surprise  the}^  found  that  the\'  were  mistaken  as  the  day  for  the 
vote  approached.  The  votes  in  opposition  increased  from  day  to 
day,  and  they  found  it  necessary  to  go  out  on  the  streets  and  exert 
themselves,  lest  after  all  they  might  lose  the  prize  which  they  sup- 
posed they  had  alreadj^  gained.  The  best  citizens  of  Lancaster 
turned  out  to  stem  the  tide,  and  Dr.  Bowman  did  not  consider  it 
beneath  his  robes  to  take  part  in  the  canvass.  It  was  well  that 
the}^  did.  An  unusuall}'  large  vote  was  polled  on  this  vexed  ques- 
tion, and  when  the  tickets  were  counted  it  turned  out  that  the  Col- 
lege had  gained  the  day  only  hy  an  inconsiderable  majority.  The 
victory,  however,  was  decisive,  and  according  to  promise  all  active 
opposition  ceased. — When  the  College  de  facto  was  located  in  the 
city,  the  students  at  first  were  looked  upon  with  suspicion,  b}'  the 
townsmen  or  roughs  ;  but  it  grew  in  public  estimation,  and  gained 
throughout  the  community  a  respect  seldom  enjoyed  by  institu- 
tions of  this  description. — Mr.  Buchanan,  who  had  always  taken  a 
lively  interest  in  the  College  at  Mercersburg,  his  birthplace,  and  a 
personal  friend  of  the  professors,  took  an  active  and  liberal  part  in 
securing  for  it  a  new  home  at  Lancaster,  in  which  he  co-operated 
freely  with  such  prominent  citizens  of  the  cit}'  aud  county  as 
Dr.  S.W.  Bowman,  Dr.  John  L.  Atlee,  John  Re3'nolds,  Hon.  Henry 
G.  Long,  Emanuel  C.  Reigart,  Esq.,  Hon.  A.  L.  Hayes,  D.  W.  Pat- 
terson, Esq.,  Nathaniel  Ellmaker,  Esq.,  Christopher  Hager,  John 
Bausman,  Dr.  Samuel  Humes,  Hon.  Joseph  Konigmacher,  Hon. 
William  Hiester,  Abraham  Peters,  and  others. 

Another  difficulty  in  effecting  the  union  of  the  two  institutions 
was  experienced  in  raising  the  necessary'  funds,  $25,000,  for  the 


Chap.  XXXVI]        difficulties  in  the  way  43T 

erection  of  suitable  buildings  for  the  accommodation  of  the  College, 
pledged  to  Marshall  College  as  a  condition  of  the  unification.  In 
itself  considered  this  amount  was  nothing  formidable  for  such  a 
wealthy  communit}^  as  that  found  within  the  limits  of  the  city  and 
county  of  Lancaster.  "But,  as  already  said,  the  people  were  not  of 
the  same  mind,  and  with  many  of  them  at  that  time  colleges  were 
more  than  questionable  in  their  general  influence,  and  college  stu- 
dents a  nuisance  rather  than  otherwise.  The  Rev.  John  Casper 
Bucher  was  appointed  to  collect  the  funds,  on  the  ground  that  he 
possessed  the  necessar}-  qualifications  for  a  work  of  this  kind  and 
that  he  was  deeply  interested  in  its  success.  He  entered  upon  his 
task  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1850,  but  it  was  not  until  some  time 
in  the  year  1852  that  he  was  able  to  make  assurance  double  sure, 
and  report  that  the  task  had  been  accomplished.  There  were  few 
at  the  time,  who  could  have  brought  more  faith,  patience  or  energy 
to  a  work  like  this,  which  at  times  seemed  to  be  encompassed  with 
invincible  difficulties.  lie  contended  most  valorously  at  his  post 
until  he  had  secured  $22,000  for  the  project,  when  the  noble-minded 
Trustees,  already  named,  took  the  matter  in  hand  and  raised  the 
balance  needed  by  their  own  exertions  and  liberalit}'. 

During  this  period  of  suspense,  the  author  of  this  volume  was 
brought  within  the  inner  circle  of  college  affairs  at  Mercersburg. 
He  was  called  to  take  charge  of  the  Reformed  congregation  in  the 
place  as  pastor,  and  in  connection  with  this  he  was  asked  to  fill  the 
chair  of  Mathematics  and  Mechanical  Philosophy  in  the  College. 
Previous  to  this  he  had  witnessed  only  the  bright  side  of  his  Alma 
Mater,  its  commencements,  its  anniversaries  or  other  festivals,  which 
were  redolent  of  the  classics  or  of  a  divine  philosophy.  He  was  some- 
what surprised  at  the  grim  spectre  which  he  was  compelled  to  wit- 
ness behind  fair  external  appearances.  Prof.  William  M.  Nevin  had 
about  twice  as  many  recitations  in  the  ancient  languages  as  usually 
fall  to  the  lot  of  professors  now-a-da3-s.  Dr.  Traill  Green,  after  a 
heroic  struggle  to  keep  up  interest  in  the  study  of  the  natural 
sciences,  with  no  prospect  that  his  department  would  be  supplied 
with  the  necessaiy  apparatus,  with  a  measure  of  disappointment  and 
discouragement,  in  the  year  1848  had  resigned  the  position  which  he 
had  filled  so  well,  and  was  succeeded  by  Professor  Thomas  C.  Porter, 
who  was  performing  the  uphill  work  with  youthful  energy  and  enthu- 
siasm. Professor  Samuel  W.  Budd,  Professor  of  Mathematics,  a 
pillar  in  the  College,  and  with  Dr.  Ranch,  one  of  its  founders,  had 
fallen  at  his  post  in  1840.  Thomas  D.  Baird,  Esq.,  had  succeeded 
liiiii  in  184T,  and  then  was  compelled  to  withdraw  in  1840,  because 


438  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.  IX 

the  College  did  not  have  the  funds  on  hand  to  pa}'  him  a  regnlar  pro- 
fessor's salary.  His  department,  all  important  as  it  was,  therefore, 
remained  vacant  until  the  good  congregation  of  the  place  allowed 
its  pastor  to  take  charge  of  it  at  a  nominal  salary,  on  the  1st  of 
January,  1851.  Previously  to  this  Dr.  NeVin,  in  order  to  keep  the 
College  afloat,  undertook  to  fill  the  mathematical  chair  himself, 
teaching  all  its  branches,  except  one,  from  Algebra  up  to  Calculus, 
and  from  Mechanics  up  to  Astronomy.  To  maintain  the  reputation 
of  the  institution  and  to  prevent  it  from  disintegrating,  he  had  as- 
sumed these  duties, in  addition  to  those  of  President  of  the  College, 
Professor  in  the  Seminar^',  and  the  prolific  contributor  to  the  Mer- 
cershurg  Review^  sounding  the  depths  of  the  Church  Question, 
fighting  Sectisra,  and  preaching  about  once  everj^  Sunday  to  the 
broken  down  congregation  in  the  town.  We  were  surprised  and 
amazed.  The  Church  at  large  was  certainly  not  aware  of  the  her- 
culean labors  of  its  Professor  at  Mercersburg,  and  we  cheerfully 
consented  to  relieA'e  him  of  a  part  of  his  burden.  We  once  asked 
him  how  he  got  along  in  wading  through  mathematical  questions. 
He  replied  that  he  found  the  greatest  diflSculty  in  mastering  unim- 
portant problems  in  Algebra,  which  sometimes  occupied  an  entire 
afternoon  of  his  time.  They  had  to  be  solved  so  that  the  teacher 
might  maintain  the  confidence  of  his  pupils. 

During  the  3^ear  1851,  it  was  doubtful  whether  the  agent  at  Lan- 
caster would  be  successful  in  raising  the  necessary  funds  for  new 
buildings,  according  to  the  terms  of  the  contract  already  referred  to. 
Dr.  Nevin  had  in  a  great  measure  lost  confidence  in  the  movement, 
and  the  citizens  of  Mercersburg  were  quite  well  satisfied  with  the 
apparent  fiiilure.  Had  they  and  their  neighbors  at  this  time  in  that 
section  of  the  country  stepped  forward  when  they  had  the  oppor- 
tunity' and  pledged  $10,000  for  the  better  endowment  of  the  College 
at  Mercersburg,  Dr.  Nevin  would  have  been  entirely  satisfied  that 
the  College  should  remain  where  it  was,  and  have  taken  measures 
to  induce  the  Trustees  to  decline  the  proposition  offered  from  Lan- 
caster. But  God  rules  in  all  things,  and  before  the  close  of  the  3^ear 
a  cloud,  not  much  larger  than  a  man'.s  hand,  appeared  on  the  eastern 
horizon,  and  gradually  it  began  to  appear  that  the  indefatigable 
Mr.  Bucher  after  all  was  bound  to  succeed  in  his  work,  and  that  the 
long  talked  of  removal  of  the  College  was  destined  to  become  an 
accomplished  fact. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  in  the  beginning  of  this  movement  to  con- 
solidate, it  was  generally  supposed  that  the  Theological  Seminary 
would  be  removed  to  Lancaster  with  the  College,  and  that  both  Dr. 


Chap.  XXXVI]  farewell  words  439 

Nevin  and  Dr.  Schaff,  whose  fame  had  given  inspiration  to  the 
movement,  would  come  with  it  and  the  College.  But  it  was 
thought  best,  although  perhaps  without  sufficient  rea-sons,  that  it 
should  be  left  where  it  was  for  the  time  being  in  a  state  of  unnatural 
divorce  from  the  College.  Dr.  Nevin  furthermore  let  it  be  known 
that  it  was  his  intention  to  withdraw  from  an}*  further  connec- 
tion with  the  College  after  its  removal.  This  was  a  severe  disap-  * 
pointment  to  the  friends  of  the  projct,  especially  to  those  residing 
at  Lancaster,  and  it  was  difficult  to  understand  his  reasons  for  with- 
drawing from  the  field  at  this  critical  juncture  of  affixirs.  He  acted, 
as  he  believed,  and  as  we  might  suppose,  conscientiously  and  from 
honest  motives.  In  a  private  interview,  which  the  author  had 
sought  to  induce  him  to  comply  with  the  general  wish,  he  stated 
his  reasons  for  the  course  he  intended  to  pursue.  Among  other 
things  he  said  that,  as  was  well  known,  he  was  not  satisfied  with 
the  present  state  of  Protestantism  and  much  less  so  with  that  of 
Romanism;  that  he  had  published  his  views  freely;  that  he  did  not 
wish  to  burden  the  new  institution  with  the  odium  or  opposition 
which  the}-  had  called  forth;  and  that  the  College  was  most  likely 
to  do  better  under  a  new  president  to  whom  there  could  be  no  ob-  - 
jection  on  account  of  his  philosoph}'  or  theology,  as  was  the  case 
with  himself.  This  was  no  insuperable  objection  to  his  remaining 
in  the  College,  as  he  had  been  informed  by  Dr.  Bowman  and  others 
that  he  should  never  be  disturbed  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties  on 
account  of  his  theological  views.  The  main  diflfieulty,  he  said,  that 
la^-  in  the  way  of  further  official  duty  of  any  kind  in  the  Church, 
was  the  precarious  condition  of  his  health,  which  was  very  much  ' 
broken  down.  Manifestly  he  was  in  doubt  whether  he  would  live 
much  longer;  at  least  he  felt  that  it  was  a  duty  to  himself  now 
for  the  present  to  retire  from  further  public  service  in  the  Church. 
As  the  Winter  Term  of  the  College  drew  towards  its  close  in 
the  Spring  of  1853,  it  was  difficult  for  the  students  or  people  at 
Mercersburg  to  realize  the  fact,  that  it  was  to  be  the  last  that  was 
to  be  spent  in  that  village.  As  its  end  approached  there  was  some 
fear  that  the  students  might  be  imprudent,  and  as  a  consequence  be 
assaulted  on  the  street  in  the  evening  by  disorderly  persons,  who, 
in  the  spirit  of  mischief,  proposed  to  send  them  away  with  some 
mementos  of  a  fracas,  which  the}'  would  not  forget.  But  this  rude- 
ness ended  in  better  feelings  on  both  sides.  It  so  hapiiened  that 
one  of  the  Literary  Societies  celebrated  its  anniversary  on  the  last 
evening  of  the  Term,  wliieh  brought  a  large  concourse  of  people 
together.     At  the  conclusion  of  the  exercises,  it  was  suggested  to 


440  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1841-1853  [DiV.  IX 

Dr.  Nevin  that  he  should  take  occasion  to  speak  a  few  parting 
words  in  behalf  of  the  students  and  professors.  He  said  with  con- 
siderable emotion  that  they  did  not  leave  because  they  were  not 
attached  to  the  place ;  not  because  they  did  not  admire  the  magnifi- 
cent scenery  surrounding  it,  its  bright  skies,  or  its  forest  groves  ; 
and  least  of  all,  because  they  were  not  attached  to  its  intelligent 
people.  All  its  scenes  they  loved  them  well.  Higher  considera- 
tions, affecting  the  progress  and  betterment  of  the  College  alone 
had  called  for  the  change,  and  it  was  now  with  the  greatest  regret 
that  he  gave  the  audience  their  best  wishes  on  the  eve  of  their  de- 
parture. Mercersburg  would  never  be  forgotten  by  those  who  had 
studied  in  the  quiet,  classic  retreat  which  it  had  offered  to  succes- 
sive generations  of  students.  With  many  of  them  it  would  be  a 
second  Mecca,  to  which  their  thoughts  would  often  revert  when 
passing  through  the  rough  conflicts  of  life,  and  there  find  rest  and 
peace  of  mind  in  the  recollections  of  the  past.  And,  as  he  pre- 
dicted, some,  at  least  in  after  3'ears,  would  visit  the  spot  in  person, 
to  revive  old  associations  and  call  up  the  lessons  of  wisdom  and 
truth,  which  they  had  there  learned  in  the  days  of  their  youth. 
Words  like  these  made  a  favorable  impression  on  the  minds  of  all 
present,  and  there  was  probably  no  one  in  the  Church  who  was  not 
prepared  to  say,  Depart  in  peace.  Mercersburg  became  truly  hal- 
lowed to  many,  who  in  after  j^ears  visited  it,  and  few  failed  at  such 
times  to  feel  the  force  of  Dr.  Johnson's  famous  words  : 

"  To  abstract  the  mind  from  all  local  emotion  would  be  impossi- 
ble if  it  were  endeavored.  Whatever  withdraws  us  from  the  power 
of  our  senses,  whatever  makes  the  past,  the  distant,  or  the  future, 
predominate  over  the  present,  advances  us  in  the  dignit}'  of  think- 
ing beings.  Far  from  me,  and  my  friends,  be  such  frigid  philosophy 
as  may  conduct  us  indifferent  and  unmoved  over  any  ground  which 
has  been  dignified  by  wisdom,  braveiy,  or  virtue.  That  man  is 
little  to  be  envied,  whose  patriotism  would  not  gain  force  upon  the 
plain  of  Marathon,  or  whose  piety  would  not  grow  warmer  among 
the  ruins  of  lona.'''' 

The  bill  for  the  charter  for  the  consolidation  of  the  two  Colleges 
was  passed  bj'  the  Legislature  on  the  19th  of  April,  1850,  but  it 
was  not  issued  by  the  Governor  until  all  the  conditions  included 
were  complied  with,  in  1852.  Soon  afterwards  the  new  Board  of 
Trustees  was  organized,  and  among  other  things  proceeded  to 
elect  a  new  faculty.  As  Dr.  Nevin,  according  to  his  own  statement, 
was  not  an  available  candidate  for  the  office  of  the  presidency  of 
the  college,  it  was  thought  by  some  that  the  way  was  now  open  to 


ClIAP.  XXXYI]  THE    FACULTY    ORGANIZE  441 

reconstruct  tlie  focult}'  and  to  give  it  a  new  cliaracter  and  animus, 
somewhat  different  from  what  it  had  possessed  at  Mercersburg,  and 
as  expressed  in  the  Mercfrsbnrg  Review.  A  candidate  for  the  office 
of  President  was  l)rouglit  forward,  fortified  b}-  higli  recommenda- 
tions from  his  Alma  Mater  in  the  East,  but  in  little  sympathy- 
with  tlie  life  of  the  College  at  ]\Iercersburg,  and  recommended  by 
a  committee  of  tlie  Board.  In  the  absence  of  ixwy  other  available 
condidate,  he  was  fjxvored  b}-  a  considerable  number  of  the 
Trustees,  without  much  foresight  or  consideration.  Thereupon, 
the  Hon.  John  W.  Killinger,  a  graduate  of  the  college  at  JNIercers- 
burg,  in  1843,  understanding  instinctively  the  drift  of  affairs  and 
its  influence  on  the  future  of  the  College,  rose  up  and  in  an  elo(iuent 
speech  proposed  as  a  substitute  the  name  of  Dr.  Nevin  in  the  place 
of  the  one  named  in  the  report.  His  motion  was  carried  and  Dr. 
Xevin  was  elected,  with  only  a  slender  hope  that  he  might  reconsider 
his  decision  and  respond  favorably  to  the  wish  of  the  Board.  This 
he  consented  to  do,  and  therefore  made  no  opposition  to  his  elec- 
tion. By  holding  the  call  in  his  hand  for  awhile,  the  Trustees,  as 
he  thought,  might  have  time  to  think,  and  so  be  able  to  select  some 
other  competent  person  for  the  post  upon  whom  all  could  unite. 

At  the  same  meeting  of  the  Board  an  effort  was  also  made  to  re- 
construct the  Faculty  by  introducing  one  or  two  new  Professors 
in  the  place  of  those  who  were  to  be  left  out;  but  all  the  old  Pro- 
fessors of  Marshall  College  were  re-elected  as  best  qualified  to 
guide  the  institution  in  its  new  quarters,  and  to  maintain  its  true 
and  original  character  unaltered.  It  was  just  what  was  right  and 
proper.  Dr.  Xevin  did  not  see  his  way  clear  to  yield  to  the  wishes 
of  the  Board,  ])ut  his  spirit,  his  philosophy  and  theological  tenden- 
cies were  left  to  i)ervade  the  College  without  anj-  interruption. 
There  was  no  cliange  in  the  text-books,  and  his  Christian  Ethics 
continued  to  be  taught  as  before,  from  the  brief  compends  of  his  lec- 
tures which  the  students  had  brought  from  Mercersburg. — Thus  the 
College  had  free  scope  to  remain  as  a  part  of  his  work  as  in  da3*s 
gone  b}'. 

Dr.  Xevin  having  declined  to  accept  of  the  appointment  urged 
upon  him  oiliciall}^  Dr.  Philip  Schaff  was  unanimously  elected  tO' 
fill  his  place  in  the  College  at  Lancaster,  but  the  S^'nod  was  not  will- 
ing that  he  should  withdraw  from  his  position  in  the  Seminary  at 
Mercersburg,  and  it  therefore  remained  for  over  a  year  without  a 
head,  until  the  fall  of  1S.54,  when  Dr.  E.  Y.  (Jerhart,  President  of 
Heidelberg  College,  Tiffin,  Ohio,  and  one  of  the  oldest  graduates  of 
Marshall  College, was  elected  President  with  nuicli  cordiality,  who, 
28 


442  AT    MERCERSBURG    FROM    1844-1853  [DiV.   IX 

with  the  old  Faculty  intact,  was  in  a  position  to  carry  forward  its 
interests  in  the  spirit  of  Ranch  and  Nevin.  Here,  as  in  other  things, 
the  hand  of  Providence  manifested  itself  in  enabling  the  College 
to  grow  in  its  own  likeness  and  image,  without  suffering  any  harm 
to  its  historical  integrit3\ 

The  Faculty,  translated  from  Mercersburg  to  Lancaster  unchanged, 
was  strengthened  by  a  new  colleague  in  the  person  of  Adolphus  L. 
Koeppen  as  Professor  of  German  Literature,  History  and  ^Esthetics, 
who  here  deserves  a  passing  notice. — He  was  born  at  Copenhagen, 
Denmark,  Feb.  14,  1804,  where  he  completed  his  studies  in  the  uni- 
versity. Travelling  in  Greece,  in  1834,  he  was  invited  to  fill  the 
Professorship  of  History,  Archaeology  and  Modern  Languages  in  the 
Military  College  on  the  island  of  ^Egina.  Whilst  thus  engaged  he 
availed  liimself  of  his  opportunities  to  make  a  careful  and  thorough 
examination  of  the  antiquities  of  Greece.  In  consequence  of  the 
opposition  to  foreigners  which  broke  out  suddenly  in  1843,  he  with 
others  was  compelled  to  leave  his  lovely  Hellas,  as  he  was  wont  to 
call  his  classic  home.  In  1846,  he  came  to  America,  where  for  a 
number  of  ^ears  he  delivered  lectures  on  histor}'  at  various  promi- 
nent institutions  in  the  country. — He  was  Professor  in  Franklin 
and  Marshall  College  from  1853  to  1861.  He  then  went  to  Ger- 
man}^, and  at  Dresden  met  the  Greek  Commissioners  on  their  way 
to  Copenhagen  to  bring  young  King  George  to  Athens,  and  at 
their  request  he  accompanied  them  on  their  journey  as  a  friend 
and  interpreter.  Subsequentl}^  he  became  the  tutor  of  the  young 
ruler  in  modern  Greek,  and  afterwards  librarian  of  the  royal  library 
and  a  member  of  the  Court.  He  died  from  the  effects  of  an  acci- 
dent that  befell  him  in  mounting  his  horse  in  the  royal  suite,  April 
14,  1873. 

Whilst  Professor  at  Lancaster  he  prepared  for  the  press  his 
"  World  in  the  Middle  Ages,"  in  two  volumes,  accompanied  with  an 
"  Historico-Geographical  Atlas,"  published  b^-  Appleton  &  Co.,  New 
York,  in  1854.  The  work,  like  the  author,  teemed  with  accurate 
learning,  and  was  one  of  great  value  to  scholars  and  literary  men. 
He  was  a  frequent  contributor  to  the  Mercersburg  Revieiv ;  and  as 
he  discovered  that  it  was  discussing  pretty  extensivel}'  the  Christi- 
anity and  Church  of  the  Middle  Ages,  he  said  he  would  supply  the 
theologians  with  a  Geography  and  Atlas  of  that  period  and  thus 
help  them  in  their  researches.  He  was  eccentric,  and  somewhat 
sceptical  in  religious  matters,  which  he  regretted,  but  as  he  always 
said,  a  member  of  the  Church  of  the  Augsburg  Confession,  in  which 
he  had  been  baptized  and  confirmed. 


X-IN  RETIREMENT  FROM  1853-1861 

Mt.  50-58 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 


TTTHEN  the  College  was  removed  from  Mereerslnirg  in  the 
V  V  Sprino;  of  1853,  the  wa}-  was  open  for  Dr.  Xevin  to  retire 
from  i)ul)lic  life,  and  find  that  rest  for  his  bod}^  and  mind  which, 
after  thirteen  years  of  the  most  intense  mental  activity,  he  needed 
more  than  anything  else.  His  retirement,  jnst  at  this  time,  was  no 
donbt  the  means  of  prolonging  his  days,  and  of  giving  him  new 
vigor  and  strength  for  futnre  service  and  usefulness  in  the  Church. 
He  himself  was  under  the  impression  that  his  work  on  earth  was 
finished,  as  already*  said,  and  that  now  it  only  remained  for  him  to 
prejjare  for  another  world.  But,  like  Christian  i)ilgrims  generally, 
he  could  see  onlj-  through  a  glass  darkly,  and  did  not  know  that  he 
w'as  needed  yet  many  years  to  assist  in  completing  and  consolidat- 
ing the  work  which  he  had  helped  to  inaugurate  in  the  Church  of 
Christ.  He  lingered  for  a  brief  period  on  the  field  of  his  hard 
fought  battles  at  Mercersburg;  but  in  1854  removed  with  his  family 
to  Carlisle,  Pa.,  where,  amidst  interesting  historical  associations, 
and  in  pleasant  literary  intercourse  with  the  Professors  of  Dickin- 
son College,  it  was  thought  he  could  recruit  his  phjsical  and  mental 
energies.  But  one  of  the  Professors  of  the  College  at  Lancaster, 
happening  to  pass  along  that  way,  made  it  a  i)oint  to  stop  and  see 
him.  Under  the  impression  that  after  all  the  Doctor  was  not  where 
he  ought  to  be,  somewhat  officiously  perhaps,  he  gave  it  as  his  de- 
cided opinion  that  Lancaster  was  the  proper  place  of  residence  for 
him  and  his  family,  in  which  Mrs.  Xevin,  much  concerned  for  her 
husband's  health  and  comfort  at  the  time,  fully  concurred.  It  whs 
evident  that  he  was  not  in  all  respects  at  home  where  he  had  taken 
up  his  abode,  and  aceordingl}-  in  1855  he  and  his  family  removed 
to  Lancaster. — Mrs.  Jenkins,  his  mother-in-law,  d^ing  soon,  after- 
wards, it  devolved  on  him  as  an  executor  to  assist  in  settling  up 
her  estate;  and  accordingly  he  removed  to  Windsor  Place,  where, 
amidst  charming  scenery  and  interesting  family  associations,  he 
continued  to  reside  from  1856  to  1858. 

(443) 


444  IN   RETIREMENT   FROM   1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

Here  during  this  period  the  officers  of  a  neighboring  Episcopal 
congregation  requested  him  to  preach  for -them  as  a  supply.  Hav- 
ing ascertained  that  the^'  had  a  right  to  make  this  request,  and  that 
it  was  satisfactory  to  his  friend  Bishop  Potter,  he  complied  with 
their  wish,  very  much,  it  is  said,  to  the  edification  of  his  Episcopal 
brethren  as  long  as  he  preached  for  them.  After  his  presence  seemed 
to  be  no  longer  needed  at  Churchtown,  he  purchased  a  small  farm 
of  fifteen  acres  of  land  near  Lancaster,  erected  on  it  a  fine  residence 
and  made  it  his  permanent  abode.  He  superintended  the  erection  of 
the  building  himself,  and  in  so  doing  showed  that  he  had  practical 
talent,  sufficient  to  build  a  house — with  the  aid,  however,  of  Mrs. 
Nevin,  a  lady  with  practical  ideas — as  well  as  construct  theories  of 
theology  or  philosophy.  Like  a  wise  man  he  sat  down  first  and 
then  counted  the  exact  cost  of  the  structure,  and  it  turned  out  that 
it  did  not  cost  more  nor  less  than  his  calculations  had  called  for. 
His  knowledge  of  mathematics  was  here  utilized,  and  his  estimate 
of  the  number  of  bricks  needed  for  the  house  was  found  to  be 
strictly  correct  after  it  was  finished. 

The  erection  of  a  new  house  called  for  other  buildings  and  a 
variety  of  improvements  to  make  Caernar\'on  compare  favoral)ly 
with  Windsor  Place.  Attention  had  to  be  given  also  to  the  farm, 
the  horses  and  the  cows,  and  Dr.  Nevin,  as  in  his  3'ounger  days, 
could  again  "put  himself  to  all  kinds  of  agricidtural  labor."  He 
could  plough  his  own  acres,  and  do  such  other  farm  work  as  he 
deemed  necessary.  On  one  occasion  as  the  author  passed  by  on  the 
pike,  he  saw  him  on  a  warm  day  pitching  ha^-  from  the  barn-floor 
into  the  mow,  evidently  in  a  hurry,  as  the  clouds  indicated  a  shower 
before  evening.  He  reminded  us  of  the  ancient  philosopher  Thales, 
who  once  devoted  a  period  of  time  to  the  culture  of  olives,  in  order 
to  set  a  good  example  of  industry  to  his  neighbors,  who  thanked 
him  for  the  improvements  he  introduced  into  their  art.  Caernarvon 
farm,  garden,  and  lawn  improved  in  appearance  from  year  to  3'ear, 
and  Lancaster  county  farmers,  as  they  passed  by,  looked  in  and 
were  pleased  to  see  that  the  place  kept  up  with  the  times  in  the 
"  garden  spot "  of  the  State — thanks  to  a  lady's  taste  and  oversight. 

On  one  occasion,  Mrs.  Nevin,  with  the  children,  expected  to  be 
away  from  home  a  day  or  two,  and  as  she  was  about  to  leave,  she, 
in  the  way  of  pleasantry,  told  a  young  friend,  a  little  daughter  of 
a  neighbor  living  near  by,  to  look  after  the  Doctor  and  take 
good  care  of  him  during  her  absence.  The  child  took  it  seri- 
ously^ and  under  a  sense  of  responsibility-  watched  him  during 
the  day,  and  peering  through  the  trees,  saw  him  on  a  cherr}-  tree 


Chap.  XXXVII]  the  formal  opening  445 

picking  the  ripe  cherries!  She  immediately  took  her  position  un- 
der the  tree  and  asked  him  to  come  down  immediatel.y.  At  first 
he  demurred,  and  was  no  doubt  amused  at  the  simplicit}' of  the 
child.  But  in  a  firm  tone  she  became  more  urgent,  and  informed 
him  that  Mrs.  Nevin  had  told  her  to  take  care  of  him  whilst  she 
was  away,  and  that  he  must  now  come  down  at  once.  He  meekly 
obeyed  this  order,  and  no  doubt  began  to  reflect  on  the  wisdom 
given  by  God  to  little  children.  Had  he  remained  on  the  tree  he 
might  have  fallen  and  lost  his  life;  and  possibly  the  wee  lady  was 
thus  the  means  of  preserving  a  life  which  afterwards  became  fruitful 
and  of  extended  usefulness. — The  great  Syrian  general  in  Scripture 
was  once  restored  to  health  by  taking  the  advice  of  a  little  maiden. 

Fortunately,  however,  Dr.  Nevin,  during  this  period  of  retire- 
ment, was  not  allowed  to  be  laid  aside  altogether,  so  far  as  his  in- 
tellectual talents  were  concerned.  One  occasion  after  another 
brought  him  out  of  his  seclusion,  and  his  services,  in  different  ways, 
were  called  into  requisition  pro  Christo  et  pro  Ecclesia  ejus. — After 
the  College  was  removed  to  Lancaster,  it  was  deemed  proper  to 
proclaim  its  formal  opening  by  holding  a  public  meeting  in  Fulton 
Hall,  on  the  7th  of  June,  1853,  which  was  largely  attended  and 
served  to  excite  no  small  amount  of  enthusiasm  among  the  citizens. 
The  Right  Rev.  Alonzo  Potter,  D.  D.,  Bishop  of  Pennsylvania,  w^as 
present  and  added  to  the  interest  of  the  occasion  by  a  graceful  and 
appropriate  speech  in  behalf  of  the  State  of  Pennsylvania ;  an 
address  of  welcome  was  made  in  behalf  of  the  city  of  Lancaster 
by  the  Hon.  A.  L.  Hayes ;  and  it  fell  to  the  lot  of  Dr.  Xevin  to 
represent  the  Facult}'  and  College  in  a  discourse,  which,  although 
of  considerable  length,  was  listened  to  with  breathless  attention 
by  an  intelligent  audience. 

''  The  State  of  Pennsylvania,"  said  Dr.  Xevin,  in  his  introductory 
remarks,  "has  not  unaptly  been  compared  to  a  Sleeping  Giant. 
The  trope  finds  its  application  and  signification  in  three  points  of 
resemblance.  In  the  first  place,  in  itself  considered,  it  is  of  large 
size  and  strength.  By  the  extent  of  its  territorj^,  its  fertility  of 
soil,  its  mineral  resources,  its  facilities  and  opportunities  of  trade, 
the  peculiar  character  of  its  vast  and  sturdy  population,  its  solid 
material  wealth,  and  its  commanding  geographical  position  in  the 
midst  of  the  general  American  Union,  it  possesses  a  greatness  and 
importance  which  must  at  once  be  acknowledged  by  the  whole 
world.  I'olitieally,  it  forms  the  keystone  of  the  arch,  on  which 
rests  the  structure  of  our  glorious  Republic. — In  the  second  place, 
however,  this  great  giant  is  still,  to  no  small  extent,  asleep.    Much 


446  IN   RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

of  its  strength  has  never  been  developed  ;  and  such  force,  as  it  has 
come  naturally  to  exercise,  is  too  often  put  forth  in  a  compara- 
tivel}'  blind  way,  without  the  Avaking  insight  and  self-conscious 
purpose,  that  should  go  along  with  it  to  make  it  of  complete  ac- 
count.— But  our  figure  implies,  in  the  third  place,  that  the  giant, 
which  is  now  sleeping,  will  in  due  time  awake.  The  torpor,  which 
we  see  here,  is  not  of  death.  It  is  the  rest  rather  of  living  powers, 
which  may  be  expected  to  break  forth  hereafter,  with  a  force  pro- 
portional to  the  long  restraint  that  has  gone  before.  The  secret 
strength  and  hidden  resources  of  this  great  Commonwealth,  as  yet 
only  coming  into  view,  ma^^  be  expected  to  reveal  themselves  in 
another  and  altogether  ditferent  way. 

"  The  undeveloped  wealth  of  the  State  is  at  once  both  material 
and  moral.  It  is  only  of  late,  as  we  all  well  know,  that  the  physical 
resources,  which  it  carries  in  its  bosom,  have  begun  to  be  properly 
understood  and  improved ;  and  who  shall  say  what  treasures,  richer 
than  the  gold  mines  of  California  or  Australia,  are  still  not  reserved 
in  this  form  for  its  future  use?  But  it  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that 
the  latent  spiritual  capabilities  of  the  State  are  fairly-  parallel  with 
this  condition  of  her  natural  resources,  quite  as  full  of  promise,  and 
of  course  much  more  entitled  to  our  patriotic  interest  and  regard. 
In  comparing  one  country  or  region  with  another,  intellectually,  it 
is  not  enough  to  look  simply  at  the  difference  of  culture  which  may 
exist  between  them  at  a  giA'en  time.  Regard  must  be  had  also  to 
the  constitutional  character  of  the  mind  itself,  the  quality  of  the 
moral  soil,  if  we  may  use  the  expression,  to  which  the  culture  is 
applied. — In  this  view,  we  think  it  not  absui-d  to  magnify  the  mind 
of  Pennsylvania,  although  it  be  fashionable  in  certain  quarters,  we 
know,  to  treat  it  with  disparagement  and  contempt.  For  our  own 
part,  we  are  persuaded  that  the  State  has  no  reason  to  shrink  here 
from  comparison  with  any  section  of  our  flourishing  and  highl}^ 
fevored  land. — That  growth  is  not  ordinarily  the  best,  which  is  most 
rapid  and  easy,  and  which  serves  to  bring  into  view  with  the  greatest 
readiness  all  it  has  in  its  power  to  reveal.  It  is  by  slow  processes 
rather,  that  what  is  most  deep  and  solid,  whether  in  the  world  of 
nature  or  in  the  world  of  mind,  is  ripened  and  unfolded  finally  into 
its  proper  perfection.  There  is  room  for  encouragement  in  this 
thought,  when  we  look  at  the  acknowledged  deficiencies  and  short- 
comings of  our  giant  State  with  regard  to  education. 

"  It  was  far  better,  we  may  believe,  that  the  peculiar  constituents 
of  our  life,  the  elements  from  which  was  to  be  formed  in  the  end 
the  common  character  of  the  State,  should  not  be  forced  into  pre- 


Chap.  XXXVII]  dr.  nevin's  address  447 

mature  activity;  but  be  left  rather  to  work  like  the  hiddeu  i^owers 
of  nature  for  a  time,  without  noise  or  show,  in  the  wa}-  of  silent 
necessarA-  preparation  for  their  ultimate  destiny  and  use.  In  such 
view,  they  are  like  the  mineral  wealth  that  lies  buried  so  largely' 
beneath  our  soil,  whose  value  is  created  to  no  small  extent  by  wants 
and  opportunities,  which  time  only  could  bring  to  pass.  All  that 
is  wanted,  therefore,  now  to  make  them  a  source  of  intellectual  and 
moral  greatness  is,  that  they  should  be  subjected  to  educational 
processes  answerable  to  their  own  nature,  and  wrought  into  such 
form  of  general  culture  as  this  may  be  found  to  require.  And  ma^- 
we  not  say,  that  the  hour  of  Providence  has  struck  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  this  great  work.  With  the  mighty  strides  the  State  of 
Pennsylvania  is  now  making  in  outward  wealth  and  prosperity,  is 
it  too  much  to  cherish  the  pleasing  belief  that  she  is  fully  prepared 
also  for  a  corresponding  development  of  the  rich  energies  that  have 
thus  far  slumbered  to  a  gi'eat  extent  in  her  moral  and  spiritual  life ; 
and  that  intellectually  as  well  as  materially,  from  this  time  on- 
ward, her  course  is  destined  to  be  like  that  of  the  rising  sun,  which 
shineth  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  da^-. 

"What  has  now  been  said  of  the  general  intellectual  character 
and  condition  of  the  State,  ma}-  be  referred  with  special  application 
to  the  German  element,  which  has  entered  so  largely  from  the  first 
into  the  composition  of  its  life. — Altogether,  it  is  evident  enough, 
that  the  German  population  in  our  midst  has  had  much  to  do  with 
the  somewhat  proverbial  sluggishness  of  our  State,  thus  far,  in  the 
march  of  intellectual  improvenlent ;  and  much  reproach  has  been 
cast  upon  it.  as  being  a  sort  of  Ba^otian  drawback  and  drag  on 
the  whole  life  of  the  State,  greatly  to  its  disparagement,  especiall}' 
as  compared  with  its  more  smart  and  forward  neighbors  of  the 
North  and  East.  But  if  the  German  mind  of  Pennsylvania  has 
stood  in  the  waj-  of  letters,  heretofore,  and  caused  her  to  lag  be- 
hind other  States  in  the  policy  of  Education,  we  may  see  in  it,  at 
the  same  time,  the  fair  promise  and  pledge  of  a  more  auspicious 
future,  that  shall  serve  hei'eafter  to  redeem  her  character  on  this 
score  from  all  past  and  i)resent  blame.  So  far  as  this  large  mass 
of  mind  is  concerned,  it  is  owing,  certainly,  to  no  constitutional 
inferiority,  that  it  has  not  yielded  more  fruit  in  the  way  of  knowl- 
edge and  culture.  The  fact,  as  we  have  just  seen,  is  suHlcienth' 
explained  by  other  causes.  Regarded  as  material  simply,  no  body 
of  mind  in  the  country  is  more  susceptible  of  education,  or  more 
favoral)ly  disposed  for  the  recei)tion  of  it,  in  its  most  healthy  and 
vigorous  form.     AVho  that  knows  anvthing  of  Germanv  itself,  will 


448  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

have  to  be  told  that  there  is  no  affinity  between  the  spirit  of  such 
a  people  and  the  cause  of  knowledge,  or  that  it  can  require  an^-- 
thing  more  than  proper  opportunit}^  and  encouragement,  in  an}- 
circumstances,  to  bring  this  affinity  finally  into  view  ? 

"  In  this  view,  we  have  no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  the  German 
character  of  our  State.  There  is  a  blessing  in  it,  with  all  its  faults, 
and  the  time  has  now  come,  we  may  trust,  when  the  secret  power 
of  this  blessing  will  begin  to  make  itself  extensively  felt.  The 
hinderances,  which  have  heretofoi*e  stood  in  the  way  of  its  moral 
and  intellectual  advancement,  are  happily  fast  disappearing.  Our 
German  population  has  begun  to  free  itself  everywhere  from  the 
thraldom  of  an  isolated,  and,  therefore,  comparatively  stagnant  and 
dead  social  position,  maintained  heretofore  through  the  use  of  a 
foreign  tongue,  and  is  entering  more  and  more  into  free,  active 
communication  with  the  general  life  of  the  State.  With  the  falling 
away  of  this  middle  wall  of  partition,  old  prejudices  and  old  oc- 
casions of  prejudice  are  rapidly  losing  their  power.  A  new  inter- 
est is  beginning  to  make  itself  felt  on  all  sides  in  favor  of  educa- 
tion. Much,  of  course,  very  much,  still  remains  to  be  desired ;  but 
never  before  has  there  been  the  same  room  for  encouragement  that 
there  is  now,  in  the  way  of  what  may  be  regarded  as  a  fair  prepa- 
ration at  least,  and  promise  here  in  the  right  direction.  The  field 
is  already  white  to  harvest.  What  is  wanted  is,  that  the  rich  op- 
portunity should  he  rightly  understood,  and  vigorouslj^,  as  well  as 
wisely,  applied. 

"In  such  circumstances,  the  true^  idea  of  education,  for  an}-  par- 
ticular portion  of  the  country,  should  be  felt  to  involve  much  more 
than  a  blind  outward  following,  merely,  of  such  modes  and  habits 
of  intelligence  as  may  have  come  to  prevail  in  some  other  parts. 
The  case  requires  rather  that  ever}-  section  of  the  land  should  fall 
back  as  much  as  possible  upon  the  true  ground  of  its  own  life,  and 
aim  at  a  culture  which  may,  as  far  as  possible,  correspond  with  this, 
and  thus  serve  most  eflfectually  to  bring  out  its  proper  capabilities 
in  their  best  and  most  perfect  form.  No  system  of  education, 
therefore,  taken  as  a  whole,  can  be  regarded  as  complete  for  Penn- 
s^dvania,  in  which  account  is  not  made  practically  of  the  German 
mind  and  the  German  character  as  such.  We  do  not  mean  by  this, 
of  course,  that  the  German  tongue  should  be  retained  in  common 
use,  or  that  the  German  national  usages  and  customs  are  to  be  care- 
fully carried  forward  from  one  generation  to  another.  When  we 
speak  of  German  character  we  mean  something  much  deeper  than 
this.     We  refer  rather  to  the  nature  of  the  German  mind  as  such, 


ClIAP.  XXXYII]         ANGLO-OERMAX    EDUCATION  449 

its  (listinguishing  spirit,  its  constitutional  organization,  its  histor- 
ioal  sul)stance  and  form.  It  is  true  indeed,  that  this  has  undergone 
a  certain  modification  by  the  influences  to  which  it  has  been  sub- 
jected thus  far  in  the  new  world,  but  it  has  entered  largely,  as  a 
lasting  constituent,  into  the  universal  character  of  the  State,  and 
it  is  in  this  view^  especiall}',  we  say,  it  is  entitled  to  continual  prac- 
tical regard  in  our  schemes  of  intellectual  and  moral  improvement. 
Our  Anglo-German  character  demands  an  Anglo-German  education. 

"From  what  has  already  been  said,  it  is  plain  that  this  require- 
ment is  one  which  cannot  be  met  adequately  by  our  common  schools. 
Viewed  as  a  matter  of  education,  the  spirit  that  should  rule  them 
must  descend  into  them  from  a  higher  quarter,  from  the  universit\' 
or  the  college.  Here  we  see  the  true  relation  between  the  college 
and  the  school,  between  education  in  its  higher  and  education  in 
its  lower  character.  Nothing  can  well  be  more  foolish  and  absurd 
than  to  think  of  exalting  one  of  these  interests  at  the  cost  of  the 
other,  or  to  imagine  that  there  exists  between  them  any  sort  of  real 
contrariety  or  opi)osition.  A  true  S3stem  of  education  for  an}' 
people  must  embrace  both;  and  it  piust  embrace  both  ulways  in 
this  relation,  that  the  spirit  of  the  College  shall  give  tone  and  char- 
acter to  the  spirit  of  the  School,  as  it  ought  to  make  itself  felt  in- 
deed in  the  spiritunl  life  of  the  entire  community'.  It  is  to  our 
colleges  then  we  must  look  mainly  for  the  proposed  solution  of  the 
problem  now  before  us,  an  educational  culture  that  may  fairly  be 
answerable  to  the  wants  of  Penns^dvania,  as  an  Anglo-German 
State.  And  if  thej'  are  not  brought  to  provide  for  the  case,  it  will 
be  in  vain  to  expect  that  suitable  provision  can  ever  be  made  for 
it  in  any  other  way. 

"An  institution  suited  to  the  character  of  Pennsylvania,  and 
carrying  in  it  a  proper  relation  to  its  educational  wants,  particularly 
at  the  present  time,  needs  to  be  English  altogether  in  its  general 
course  of  studies,  and  yet  of  such  reigning  spirit  that  both  the  Ger- 
man language  and  habit  of  thought  shall  feel  themselves  to  be  easih' 
at  home  within  its  bosom.  The  presence  of  this  element  will  be 
cherished  with  true  congenial  sympathy  and  respect.  The  power 
of  a  natural  affinity  with  it  will  be  felt  and  acknowledged  on  all 
sides.  A  living  communication  will  be  maintained  with  the  liter- 
ature and  science,  philosopliy  and  religion  of  German}-  itself,  serv- 
ing to  promote,  at  the  same  time,  an  intelligent  regard  for  the  Ger- 
man life  at  home,  with  a  proper  insight  into  its  merits  and  defects, 
its  capacities  and  wants.  Such  an  institution  will  have  faith  in  the 
resources  of  this  home  life, as  such  ;  it  will  understand  the  true  sense 


450  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

of  it,  the  sterling  qualities  tlmt  lie  hid  beneath  its  rude  and  rough 
exterior ;  and  will  address  itself  honestly  and  heartil}-  to  the  task  of 
developing  and  drawing  out  these  qualities  in  their  own  proper  form, 
in  the  full  persuasion  that  no  better  material,  no  more  worthy 
sphere  of  service,  and  no  surer  promise  of  success  in  the  end,  could 
be  offered  to  it  from  any  other  quarter  or  in  any  different  form. 

"Making  itself  one  in  this  way,  and  feeling  itself  one,  with  the 
natural  spirit  of  the  State,  so  far  as  it  is  German,  an  institution  of 
this  sort  must  carry  with  it  at  once  a  passport  to  the  good  opinion 
and  confidence  of  our  German  citizenship  ;  for  it  is  wonderful  how 
like  makes  itself  intelligible  to  like,  and  the  sense  of  a  common 
nature  seems  to  draw  the  most  different  forms  of  mind  together, 
causing  even  children,  for  instance,  to  feel  themselves  familiarl}^  at 
home  with  age  and  authority  in  one  case,  while  they  shrink  from 
their  presence  in  another.  Such  fellow  feeling  in  the  case  before 
us  must  open  the  way  immediately  for  the  happiest  results.  The 
German  mind  of  Pennsylvania,  seeing  and  feeling  the  real  signifi- 
cance of  its  own  nature,  reflected  upon  it  in  this  way  from  an  insti- 
tution of  learning  really-  and  trulj'  belonging  to  itself,  cannot  fail 
to  be  inspired  with  a  new  sense  of  independence  and  becoming  self- 
respect.  No  object  deserves  to  be  considered  as  more  important 
than  this  for  the  cause  of  education  in  our  State ;  and  if  a  college 
ma}'  be  so  constructed  and  ordered,  as  by  its  relationship  with  the 
German  mind  among  us  to  become  an  interpreting  key  that  shall 
serve  to  make  this  mind  in  any  measure  rightl}'  intelligible  to  itself, 
it  will,  by  such  good  ofiice  alone,  have  done  more  for  the  State 
than  can  be  well  expressed. 

"  A  proper  patronage  will  be  called  forth  in  support  of  a  system 
of  education,  which  is  thus  appreciated  and  understood  b}'  the 
people.  It  will  become  more  and  more  the  fashion  to  send  their 
sons  to  college ;  and  the  influence  of  the  college  will  be  made  in 
this  wa}^  again  to  reach  forth  more  and  more  extensively  upou  the 
community'.  The  case  will  be  one  of  continual  action  and  reaction ; 
and  so  long  as  the  institution  remains  true  to  its  original  character, 
and  tries  to  carry  out  faithfully,  as  it  ought  to  do,  its  proper  mis- 
sion and  task,  as  a  college  for  Pennsylvania,  and  not  for  some 
other  State,  working  thus  in  harmony  with  the  natural  spirit  of  the 
State  itself,  and  finding  in  it  a  congenial  element,  it  will  make  itself 
felt  upon  this  more  and  more  as  a  source  of  general  education,  giv- 
ing tone  and  character  to  its  universal  life.  Such  we  consider  to 
be  the  general  process  b}-  which  it  might  be  possible  to  realize  the 
conception  of  a  reigning  education,  properly  adapted  to  the  Ger- 


Chap.  XXXYII]  anglo-germanism  451 

man  character  of  ronnsylvania,  and  which  every  true  friend  of  the 
State  should  be  willing  to  approve  and  encourage  for  tliis  purpose. 

"Tiie  German  language  must  soon  pass  out  of  popular  use,  and 
along  with  it  will  disappear  with  inevitable  necessity  much  of  the 
outward  show  and  fashion  of  our  good  old  I'ennsylvania  life,  as  it 
now  stands.  The  time  is  fast  coming  on,  think  of  it  as  we  maj^, 
when  this  good  old  life  will  exist  only  in  story  or  in  song,  like  that 
which  Diedrich  Knickerbocker  has  rendered  so  illustrious  in  his 
ever  memorable  history  of  New  York.  In  this  approaching  revo- 
lution and  wreck,  if  anything,  however,  is  to  be  saved,  it  can  only 
be  the  soul,  the  spirit,  the  inw^ard  genius  and  power  of  what  is  thus 
in  every  other  view  doomed  to  destruction.  But,  as  we  have  now 
seen,  the  spiritual  conservatism,  which  is  needed  for  securing  a  vic- 
tory of  this  sort  over  such  a  crisis,  is  a  power  that  can  be  exercised 
only  b}'  our  colleges. 

"  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  remark,  that  what  we  have  now  said 
looks  in  no  way  to  the  idea  of  anything  like  an  exclusive  German 
spirit  in  our  system  of  German  education.  The  life  of  German3', 
as  such,  can  never,  and  should  never,  become  the  life  of  any  part  of 
these  Ignited  States;  just  as  little  as  the  life,  in  any  like  view,  of 
England,  Italy  or  France.  All  that  we  mean  is,  that  the  German 
mind  among  us  should  come  in  for  its  just  share  of  regard,  as  a 
vast  and  mightv  element  in  the  composition  of  our  State.  Respect 
must  be  had  also,  of  course,  and  in  the  nature  of  the  case  alwa3'S 
will  be  had  in  more  than  full  proportion,  to  what  may  be  denom- 
inated the  naturally  English  side  of  our  life.  What  the  case  de- 
mands, as  we  have  already  intimated,  is  an  Anglo-German  educa- 
tion— a  form  of  intellectual  and  moral  culture,  in  which  the  English 
and  German  nationality  shall  be  happil}^  blended  together  in  the 
power  of  a  common  spirit  fairly  representing  the  mixed  character 
of  the  State.  The  two  orders  of  life  are  eminentl3^  well  fitted  to 
flow  in  this  way  into  one;  and  the  combination,  we  believe,  would 
give  a  i-esult  which  in  the  end  must  prove  itself  to  be  better  than 
either.  Towards  the  accomplishment  of  this  great  object,  the 
patriotic  wishes  of  all  good  Pennsylvauians  should  be  actively 
turned.  And  now  especially,  when  the  fulness  of  time  might  seem 
to  be  at  hand  for  it  in  the  course  of  God's  providence,  it  ought  to 
be  the  aim  and  scope  of  our  whole  educational  jiolicy. 

"The  interest  and  importance  of  this  celebration  turn  altogether, 
we  may  say,  on  the  relation  it  bears  to  the  cause,  whose  claims  I 
have  thus  far  been  endeavoring  to  explain  and  enforce.  The  open- 
ing of  Fiaid<lin  and  Marshall  College  in  the  city  of  Lancaster  is  an 


452  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DlY.  X 

eA^ent  which  deserves  to  be  proclaimed  in  this  way,  and  one  which 
is  destined,  we  trust,  to  be  hekl  in  long  remembrance  hereafter,  not 
simpl}'  because  a  new  Institution  of  learning  is  thus  introduced 
under  favorable  auspices  to  the  attention  of  the  world  ;  but  especi- 
ally and  mainly  for  this  reason,  that  the  Institution  in  question  is 
one,  which,  by  all  its  connections  and  relations,  stands  pledged  to 
sustain  such  a  true  Anglo-German  character,  as  we  have  seen  to  be 
needed  for  Pennsjdvania,  and  may  be  expected  to  do  much  towards 
solving  practically  the  problem  of  right  education  in  the  State 
under  this  form. 

"  The  new  college  is  formed  by  the  consolidation  of  two  char- 
tered institutions,  both  of  which  were  intended,  from  the  begin- 
ning, to  serve  the  cause  of  learning,  more  particularly  among  the 
German  part  of  our  population.  The  funds  of  Franklin  College 
were  created  by  the  Legislature  of  the  State,  expressly  for  this 
purpose,  and  could  never  have  been  devoted  to  any  other  without 
a  solemn  breach  of  trust.  Marshall  College  was  established  at 
Mercersburg  in  1886,  under  the  patronage  of  the  German  Reformed 
Church,  for  the  same  end  ;  and  it  is  not  too  much  to  affirm,  that  its 
energies  have  been  faithfully  and  successfull}-  devoted  to  this  object 
from  first  to  last.  It  has  aimed  to  be  an  Anglo-German  Institution, 
and  to  adapt  itself  in  this  respect  to  the  genius  and  wants  of  Penn- 
sjdvania,  as  well  as  of  other  parts  of  the  country  in  which  the 
English  and  German  elements  are  similarlj^  united ;  and  in  the 
prosecution  of  that  end,  it  has  steadily  refused  to  be  a  copy  or 
echo  simpl}'  of  sj-stems  of  thought  elsewhere  established,  which 
might  carrj'  in  them  no  reference  whatever  to  any  such  order  of 
life.  Having  this  character,  and  pursuing  this  course,  the  college 
has,  in  fact,  done  much,  during  the  comparatively  short  period  of 
its  history,  to  encourage  and  promote  a  proper  zeal  for  education 
in  German  communities,  as  well  as  to  show  how  much  of  promise 
for  this  cause  is  contained  in  our  American  German  mind,  just  so 
soon  as  proper  pains  may  be  taken  to  turn  it  to  account. 

"  The  whole  worth  and  weight  of  this  moral  character  and  prop- 
erty, including  the  favor  of  its  Alumni  and  other  pupils  at  this 
time  widely  scattered  over  the  land,  together  with  the  perpetual 
patronage  and  support  of  the  German  Reformed  Church,  pass  over 
now  along  with  the  college  itself  to  the  new  institution  now  estab- 
lished in  Lancaster. 

"Finally,  we  have  much  to  augur  in  favor  of  this  new  institution 
from  its  own  location.  In  any  view  Lancaster  oflTers  a  fine  situa- 
tion for  such  a  seat  of  learning.     Its  immediate  local  advantages 


Chap.  XXXVII]    Lancaster  city  and  county  453 

are  too  well  known  to  require  any  notice  or  mention.  By  its  posi- 
tion, in  the  midst  of  the  new  facilities  for  travel  and  trade,  which 
are  opening  on  all  sides,  it  is  eas}'  of  access  from  all  quarters. 
Especially  may  it  he  regarded  as  in  this  view  likel}'  soon  to  become 
the  very  heart  and  centre  of  the  Reformed  Church,  and  of  what  may 
be  termed  the  German  region  of  the  Middle  States.  A  college  of 
good  character  established  here  can  never  fail  to  be  in  full  sight  of 
this  broad  and  ample  territor}^  and  to  command  more  or  less  of 
its  attention  and  respect.  But  it  would  be  hard  to  name  any  place 
at  the  same  time,  which  might  seem  to  have  less  need  or  occasion 
to  look  abroad  in  this  way  for  encouragement,  in  the  case  of  any 
such  enterprise.  The  city  and  county  of  Lancaster  ought  to  be 
considered  a  host  in  themselves,  most  fully  sufficient  for  carrying 
it  forward  alone,  if  that  were  at  all  necessary.  The  count3'  for 
size,  population  and  wealth,  might  pass  respectably  for  an  inde- 
pendent State;  and  if  the  cause  of  education  within  it  stood  in  any 
sort  of  proportion  to  its  prosperity-  in  other  respects,  it  would 
be  found  to  require  no  doubt,  as  it  would  abundantly  sustain,  a 
flourishing  college  simply  for  its  own  use.  No  such  patronage 
indeed  is  to  be  asked  of  it,  or  expected  from  it  now.  The  time  for 
that  has  not  3'et  come.  But  who  will  say,  that  it  ma}'  not  come 
hereafter,  or  that  it  may  not  begin  to  come  soon  ? 

"  Let  the  enterprise  only  prove  true  and  faithful  to  what  we  have 
now  seen  to  be  the  object  which  should  be  aimed  at  in  a  system 
of  education  for  this  State;  let  it  be  carried  forward  vigorously  in 
the  spirit  of  the  idea,  which  would  seem  to  be  prescribed  for  it  b}- 
all  the  conditions  in  the  midst  of  which  it  starts;  and  we  see  not 
how,  with  these  favorable  auspices  and  omens,  this  field  of  oppor- 
tunity and  promise,  it  should  fail  of  being  crowned  with  the 
largest  and  most  triumphant  success, — Let  us  accept  as  an 
omen  and  pledge  of  this  the  public  welcome  with  which  the  arms 
of  the  community  are  thrown  open  to  receive  the  institution  into 
their  midst  on  the  present  occasion.  The  whole  State  knows,  we 
might  almost  say  the  whole  world  knows,  that  if  the  city  and  county 
of  Lancaster  see  proper,  Franklin  and  Marshall  College  may  soon 
be  made  the  ornament  and  glory,  not  onl}-  of  this  city  and  county, 
but  of  the  entire  Commonwealth  of  Pennsylvania.  And  who  will 
pretend,  that  the  anil)ition  and  zeal  of  this  old  German  community, 
now  rolling  as  it  does  in  wealth,  would  not  be  well  and  worthily 
laid  out,  if  they  were  turned  in  fact  towards  the  realization  of  so 
grand  an  object? — Lancaster  should  either  have  no  college  at  all, or 
else  one  that  may  be  in  all  respects  worthy  of  the  name. 


454  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

"It  is  a  case  that  involves,  to  no  small  extent,  the  honor  and 
credit  of  the  German  name.  It  is  such  an  opportunit}-  as  may 
never  occur,  we  believe  never  will  occur  again,  under  any  other  form, 
for  making  this  name  respectable,  and  for  securing  to  it  its  just 
rights,  in  the  educational  history  of  Penns^dvania.  Let  the  coun- 
ty see  to  it,  that  the  opportunity  be  not  neglected,  and  in  the  end 
lost.  And  let  it  be  the  ambition  of  the  city  to  do  faithfully  its 
part  also  in  building  up  an  interest,  which  may  be  made  externally 
as  well  as  morally  to  redound  to  its  embellishment  and  praise.  The 
most  beautiful  location  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  town  has 
already  been  secured  for  the  institution,  with  ample  room  for  all 
improvements  that  may  be  required  for  its  service  and  accommo- 
dation. It  would  be  unfortunate,  indeed,  if  so  commanding  a  sit- 
uation, exposed  from  all  sides  to  the  widest  public  A'iew,  and  look- 
ing out  continually  upon  the  world  of  travel  that  passes  b}',  should 
not  be  occupied  in  proper  course  of  time  with  buildings  and  ar- 
rangements worthy  of  such  a  position,  and  lit  to  appear  as  the 
standing  advertisement  of  what  is  destined  to  become  hereafter, 
we  trust,  so  great  a  college.  I  beg  leave,  in  conclusion,  to  com- 
mend this  point  in  particular  to  the  attention  and  care  of  the  cit}'. 
It  concerns  the  taste  and  pride  of  the  city  upon  its  own  account." 

At  the  first  Commencement  of  the  College  at  Lancaster,  after  the 
Formal  Opening,  Dr.  jS^evin  was  requested  b}^  the  Board  to  preside 
and  confer  the  degrees  on  the  graduating  class.  On  this  occasion 
he  aA^ailed  himself  of  the  opportunity  of  delivering  a  Baccalaure- 
ate Address,  full  of  earnestness,  atfection  and  paternal  solicitude 
for  the  students,  which  were  the  growth  of  days  and  years  in  the 
past.  Space  here  allows  us  to  give  only  a  few  of  its  admirable 
thoughts.  His  theme  was  "Man's  True  Destiny,"  and  in  seeking 
to  point  it  out,  he  proceeded  in  his  discourse  to  show  that  the  true 
destination  of  man,  the  proper  end  of  his  being  and  life,  lies  be3^ond 
the  present  world  in  an  order  of  things  which  is  supernatural ;  and 
that  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  he  should  know  this,  and  have 
supreme  practical  regard  to  the  fact,  in  order  that  he  maj^  not  live 
in  vain.  In  harmony  with  the  gravitj'  of  his  subject,  he  prefaced 
his  remarks  with  an  invocation  that  the  Spirit  of  all  truth  and 
grace  might  so  hallow  the  natui*ally  sacred  associations  of  the  oc- 
casion, that  they  might  serve  to  fix  deeply  and  lastingly  on  the 
minds  of  the  students,  and  all  others,  the  living  force  of  this  one 
single  thought,  so  that  in  the  future  it  might  be  the  pole-star  of 
their  existence, lighting  it, till  life  should  end, onwards  and  upwards 
always  to  the  glorious  immortality  of  the  saints  in  heaven. 


Chap.  XXX^'II]  first  baccalaureate  address  455 

"The  necessit}'  of  owning  a  supernatural  destiny  for  man,"'  said 
the  reverend  instructor  to  many  attentive  listeners,  amidst  a  season 
of  festivity,  "lies  to  a  certain  extent  in  his  natural  constitution 
itself,  in  the  relation  he  is  seen  and  felt  to  bear  to  the  world  around 
in  his  present  mortal  state.  This  relation,  in  one  view,  is  of  the 
most  close  and  intimate  kind.  The  organization  of  the  world,  as  a 
system  of  nature,  comes  to  its  completion  in  his  person.  This  is 
signified  to  us  very  plainly  in  the  Mosaic  account  of  creation, 
where  the  whole  magnificent  process,  rising  gradually  from  one 
stage  of  order  and  life  to  another,  is  represented  as  reaching  its 
climax  finall}'  on  the  sixth  day  in  the  formation  of  man,  when  God 
said  :  '  Let  us  make  man  in  our  image,  after  our  likeness  ;  and 
let  them  have  dominion  over  the  fish  of  the  sea,  and  over  the  fowls 
of  the  air,  and  over  the  cattle,  and  over  all  the  earth,  and  over  every 
creeping  thing  that  creepeth  upon  the  earth.'  Man  is  thus  strictly 
the  perfection  of  nature,  the  crown  of  its  glor^',  the  very  centre  of 
its  light. 

"But  for  all  this,  or  rather  we  may  say  for  this  reason,  the  life 
which  l)elongs  to  man  in  the  order  of  nature  is  for  him  always 
something  incomplete,  a  form  of  existence  which  manifestl}^  does 
not  find  its  full  and  i)roper  sense  in  itself,  but  needs  and  seeks  this 
continually  in  some  higlier  and  different  constitution  of  things. — 
But  man  is  himself,  as  we  have  just  seen,  the  end  of  nature,  the 
point  where  its  whole  process  reaches  its  ultimate  destination. 
How  then  should  he  find  in  it  his  own  destination  or  end? — The 
world,  as  a  system  of  nature,  completes  itself  in  him,  ijecomes  in 
him  a  moral  world,  a  world  of  intelligence  and  active  will,  in  order 
simply  that  it  may,  through  him,  become  linked,  under  such  form, 
with  another  econoni}-  far  more  glorious  than  itself.  Without  such 
object  and  end,  it  must  be  regarded  as  an  insupportable  vanity. 

"  And  is  it  necessary'  to  add,  that  what  is  in  this  w'a}-  continually 
proclaimed  b}^  the  general  constitution  of  the  world,  finds  its  full 
echo  in  the  moral  nature  of  man  himself.  Whatever  relation  his 
intelligence  and  will  may  bear  to  the  present  world  as  such,  they 
carry  in  their  verj-  constitution,  at  the  same  time,  no  less  distinctly, 
a  necessary  reference  also  to  something  beyond  this  world,  to  a 
higlier  economy,  whicii  is  felt  to  extend  over  it  in  the  form  of  truth 
and  law,  in  which  alone  is  to  be  sought  and  found  its  highest  and 
last  end. 

"  But  it  is  in  the  si)here  of  religion  and  conscience,  especially,  that 
the  necessary  relation  of  man's  life  to  an  order  of  things  which  is 
above  and  ])evond  nature,  so  far  as  his  own  consciousness  is  con- 


456  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

cerned,  comes  most  of  all  to  view.  Whether  the  religion  be  true  or 
false  is  of  no  account  as  regards  this  point. — For  the  sense  of  re- 
ligion in  some  forms  is  as  universal  as  our  human  nature  itself, 
and  forms  an  inseparable  part  of  its  constitution;  and  it  includes 
everywhere,  also,  the  assurance  of  its  own  legitimate  authority,  and 
its  right  to  be  regarded  as  a  supreme  power  in  the  organization  of 
our  life. — It  is  not  h^'potheticall}^  or  problematically  only,  but  with 
a  full  categorical  imperative,  that  the  chief  end  of  man  is  referred 
here  to  another  world,  and  that  he  is  required  to  subordinate  to 
this  all  other  ends  of  a  merely  secondary  account. 

"  Such  is  the  natural  testimony  of  the  soul,  with  regard  to  its 
own  destination.  No  force  of  error  or  corruption  can  ever  reduce 
it  to  silence.  It  speaks  in  the  individual  conscience  of  every  man. 
It  is  heard  in  the  religious  faith  and  worship  of  nations,  and  is 
handed  forward  as  a  sacred  tradition  from  one  generation  to  another, 
deep  answering  unto  deep,  as  it  were,  in  the  vast  and  mighty  ab^^ss 
of  the  human  spirit,  and  the  voice  of  ages,  like  the  sound  of  many 
waters,  uttering  itself  forever  in  one  and  the  same  awfully-  solemn 
tone. 

"  The  world  as  it  now  stands,  the  cosmos  whether  of  Humboldt 
or  Kant,  has  no  power,  it  is  true,  to  affirm  supernatural  realities  in 
their  own  proper  form ;  they  lie  over  its  horizon ;  but  it  goes  far  to 
show  negatively  and  indirectly  their  necessity,  and  to  turn  the  eye 
of  expectation  and  desire  towards  the  region  in  which  they  are 
found.  Time  always  points  to  eternity.  Nature  cries  aloud  for 
that  which  is  higher,  greater,  and  more  enduring  than  itself.  The 
world  that  now  is,  with  man  in  the  centre  of  it,  is  a  riddle  whose 
burden  can  find  no  relief  except  in  the  world  to  come.  The  whole 
moral  and  religious  side  of  man's  life  especiall}-  proclaims,  with  un- 
controllable witness,  his  supernatural  destiny  and  leads  him  to  ac- 
knowledge his  relation  to  the  invisible  and  eternal  through  all  ages 
and  times. — This  universal  demand  among  men  for  religion  in  some 
form,  both  proves  the  reality'  of  the  supernatural  relations  on  which 
the  whole  rests,  and  creates  a  presumption  at  the  same  time,  not 
against,  but  powerfully  in  favor  of  any  system  which  ma}'  present 
itself  with  the  proper  credentials  of  a  true  revelation. 

"But  to  give  effect  to  this  conclusion,  the  voice  of  revelation 
must  be  added  to  the  voice  of  nature.  The  supernatural  must 
make  itself  known,  not  as  a  notion  or  thought  merel}',  but  as  an 
actual  reality,  comprehending  in  it  the  very  end  itself  for  which 
man  is  thus  required  to  live.  This  has  been  done,  as  we  know  by 
the  Gospel,  which  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  single  revelation  shining 


Chap.  XXX\'II]  first  baccalaureate  address  457 

more  and  more  'as  a  light  iu  a  dark  place'  through  the  time  of  the 
Old  Testament,  until  it  burst  forth  finally  with  full  eflulgence  in 
Him  who  is  the  'Sun  of  Righteousness,'  who,,!)}-  the  mystery 
of  His  Incarnation,  became  Himself  among  men  the  full  mani- 
festation of  the  Truth  under  a  living,  jjersonal  form ;  who,  by 
His  Death  and  Resurrection,  'brought  Life  and  Immortality  to 
light ; '  and  who  reigns  '  Head  over  all  things  to  the  Church,'  a 
Prince  and  a  Saviour  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  to  give  repentance 
and  remission  of  sins,  redemption  and  eternal  salvation,  to  all  who 
draw  near  to  (lod  in  His  name. 

"The  true  destiny  of  man,  the  grand  object  and  purpose  of  his 
existence,  being  thus  not  in  the  present  world  at  all,  but  in  an 
order  out  of  it,  above  it  and  beyond  it,  and  so  in  relation  to  it, 
supernatural,  it  becomes  at  once  of  itself  plain,  that  no  one  can 
live  to  purpose,  who  does  not  know  and  acknowledge  this  end  in 
its  own  proper  character,  so  as  to  make  it  in  reality  the  governing 
power  of  his  life.  It  is  not  enough  that  we  have  been  created  for 
such  end,  nor  yet  that  we  may  see  and  feel  the  necessity  of  it,  as, 
on  our  part,  something  be30iid  this  world.  The  case  calls  for  pur- 
pose and  will,  in  an  object  which  is  known  to  be  real.  This  comes 
before  us  here  in  the  form  of  a  supernatural  revelation,  brought  to 
its  full  accomplishment  in  Christ ;  and  the  power,  by  which  we  are 
set  in  actual  communication  with  it,  is  what  we  denominate  /az7/;. 

"  This  then  is  the  summit  of  all  education,  the  perfection  of 
knowledge  and  wisdom,  that  a  man  should  comprehend  and  practi- 
cally pursue  the  true  end  of  his  being,  by  seeking  first  the  kingdom 
of  God  and  His  righteousness.  It  is  so,  because  it  serves  to  bring 
into  the  soul  at  once  order,  harmony,  light,  freedom,  and  strength, 
by  setting  it  in  right  relation  to  the  law  of  its  own  life.  All  things 
are  beautiful  and  strong  in  their  place,  onl}-  as  they  obey  the  law 
of  their  nature,  stand  in  their  appointed  sphere,  and  fulfil  their 
original  destination;  and  so  man,  as  made  at  first  in  the  image  of 
(iod  and  formed  for  immortalit}',  can  never  be  true  to  himself  in 
any  stage  of  his  existence,  in  any  sphere  or  department  of  his  life, 
except  that  he  is  brought  to  live  supremely  for  this  supernatural 
end  and  no  longer.  This  is  for  him  emphatically  the  Truth,  the 
fundamental  reality  of  things  as  they  are  and  ought  to  be,  in  the 
api)rehension  of  which  as  a  living  fact  consists  the  idea  of  all 
Wisdom  rightly  so  called. 

"  How  easy  it  is  to  see,  that  the  smallest  measure  of  understand- 
ing in  this  form  is  of  infinitely  more  worth  than  the  largest  stores 
of  learning  or  skill  in  any  ditterent  view. — We  have  no  right  to 
29 


458  IN    RETIREMENT   FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

undervalue  education  and  learning;  and  I  have  no  disposition  to 
do  so  certainly  on  the  present  occasion ;  but  we  must  not  shrink 
still  from  seeing  and  owning  here  what  is,  after  all,  but  the  simple 
truth,  namely,  that  no  conceivable  amount  of  such  culture  can 
deserve  to  be  placed  for  one  moment  in  comparison  with  an  inward 
habit  of  piety,  which  consists  in  fearing  God  and  keeping  His  com- 
mandments. Without  this,  the  greatest  philosopher  is  less  wise  in 
fact  than  the  unlettered  rustic  to  whom  it  may  belong.  The  science 
of  the  saints  is  something  far  higher  than  any  mere  learning  of  the 
schools. 

"The  whole  subject  reveals  to  us  the  nature,  necessity,  and  value 
of  Faith.  The  chief  end  of  man,  the  last  meaning  of  his  life,  is  not 
found,  and  is  not  comprehended  in  the  present  order  of  things,  the 
passing  diorama  in  the  midst  of  which  he  is  here  carried  forward  to 
the  grave. — Opinion,  speculation,  dreamy  sentiment,  in  the  case,  are 
not  enough.  The  world  in  question  is  not  made  np  of  negatives 
simply  and  abstractions,  but  of  facts,  realities,  and  actual  living 
relations,  which  need  to  be  apprehended  as  they  are,  that  we  may 
lie  saved  by  the  sense  of  them  from  the  vanity  of  our  present  life; 
and  this  precisely  is  what  is  accomplished  for  us  b}^  faith.  Facts 
here  must  always  go  before  intelligence  and  thought;  and  knowl- 
edge must  follow  faith.  We  see  then  the  nature  of  this  faculty. 
It  is  the  power  of  acknowledging  the  supernatural,  the  miraculous, 
the  real  presence  of  possibilities,  and  powers,  and  actual  operations 
that  go  beyond  the  resources  of  nature  and  surmount  all  its  laws, 
in  a  new  order  of  life,  which  is  made  to  be  actually  at  hand  in  the 
myster^^  of  the  Church,  through  the  Death,  the  Resurrection  and 
the  Glorification  of  the  Son  of  God. 

"  It  sets  us  in  real  communication  with  things  unseen  and  eternal, 
and  makes  it  possible  for  us  to  have  such  regard  for  them  as  we 
ought,  in  working  out  the  fearfull}'  solemn  problem  of  life.  It  is 
not  the  product  in  any  way  of  reason  or  logic.  These  so  far  as 
they  are  concerned  with  natural  things,  or  with  the  order  of  the 
present  world,  have  no  power  to  reach  the  supernatural;  and  so  far 
as  they  may  be  capable  of  being  exercised  on  this  also,  when  known, 
they  have  no  power  ever  to  originate  any  such  knowledge.  Facts 
hei'e,as  always,  must  go  before  intelligence  and  thought,  and  knowl- 
edge must  follow  faith.  The  case  speaks  for  itself.  On  the  neces- 
sity and  importance  of  this  sublime  capacity,  this  faculty  of  belicA'- 
ing  realities  which  transcend  and  confound  sense,  more  need  not 
be  said. 

"Well  might  that  great  student  of  nature,  the  late  Sir  Humphrey 


Chap.  XXXVII]  first  baccalaureate  address  459 

Dav}',  tired  out  with  her  same  everlasting  response  to  all  the  ques- 
tionings of  science,  It  is  not  in  me!  It  is  not  with  me!  make  the 
memorable  declaration  towards  the  close  of  his  life,  'that  he  envied 
no  man  an}-  other  possession  whatever,  such  as  wealth,  learning  or 
wordly  distinction,  but  would  clieerfull}-  give  all  for  the  one  simple 
privilege  of  being  able  to  believe  firmly  and  steadily  the  realities 
of  another  world.  That,  indeed,  is  something  better  than  all 
knowledge,  and  power,  and  riches,  and  glory  besides.' 

"  You  need  this  habitual,  jjractical  sense  of  the  supernatural,  that 
you  may  not  walk  in  darkness  and  miss  the  true  end  of  life,  re- 
garded as  a  purely  private  and  pei'^onal  interest.  But  you  need  it 
no  less,  in  order  that  j'ou  ma^'  be  able  rightly  to  understand  the 
living  world  around  you,  and  so  be  prepared  to  act  a  right  part  in 
it  in  your  generation.  The  very  idea  of  a  liberal  education  forbids 
the  thought  of  its  being  devoted  to  merely  selfish  purposes,  under 
the  low  base  form  particularly  which  these  carr^'  with  them  for  the 
most  part  in  the  present  world.  It  is  degraded,  profaned,  and 
made  grossly  vulgar  and  illiberal  byever}^  association  of  this  kind. 
But  to  live  for  the  world  really  and  to  purpose,  we  mnst  have 
clearly  before  our  minds  its  true  constitution,  the  actual  meaning 
of  it,  the  fundamental  law  of  its  being,  its  absolute  destination  and 
end;  just  what  we  need,  in  one  word,  in  the  case  of  our  separate 
personal  life,  that  it  may  be  ordered  wisel}-  and  with  true  effect- 
Self-knowledge  here,  and  the  knowledge  of  the  world  complement 
each  other,  and  go  hand  in  hand  together. 

"  The  spirit  of  the  age  is  always  at  war  in  reality  with  the  actual 
truth  of  things,  as  we  find  this  exhibited  in  the  Gospel  and  in  the 
Church.  It  directly  or  indirectly"  seeks  to  pass  itself  off  as  an  angel 
of  light, '  flying  in  the  midst  of  the  heavens,  and  having  the  ever- 
lasting Gospel  to  preach  unto  them  that  dwell  on  the  earth,  to  every 
nation,  kindred,  and  tongue,  and  people.'  In  its  general  character, 
however,  it  remains  just  what  the  same  power  has  always  been  over 
against  the  true  Kingdom  of  Christ.  It  has  no  faith  in  the  super- 
natural, except  as  this  may  be  brought  to  resolve  itself  into  some 
sort  of  gnostic  abstraction  or  dream,  in  which  form  it  professes  to 
hold  it  in  high  account,  taking  credit  to  itself  in  so  doing  for  its 
own  spirituality.  But  its  si)irituality,  alns,  always  ends  in  mere 
spiritualism,  the  worlviug  of  the  simi)ly  natural  mind  pretending  to 
soar  above  its  own  sphere  of  the  Flfs/i,  l)ut  never  getting  out  of  it 
in  fact. 

"For  the  Spirit,  in  the  sense  of  the  Gospel,  the  supernatural  un- 
der a  real  form,  the  Myster}-  of  the  Creed  and  of  the  Church,  this 


460  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

eminently-  spiritualistic  spirit  of  the  age  has  no  sense  or  organ 
whatever.  It  eschews  all  that,  and  holds  it  in  abomination.  The 
notion  of  the  real  presence  of  spiritual  powers  in  the  Christian 
Church  for  supernatural  ends,  involving  as  it  does,  necessarily-,  the 
subordination  of  the  whole  order  of  nature  to  a  higher  economy 
that  can  be  apprehended  only  by  faith,  is  precisely  that  which  it 
has  no  power  to  endure  ;  and  the  presence  of  which,  whercA^er  it  may 
come  seriousl}'^  into  view;  proves  always  to  be  for  it  like  the  touch 
of  Ithuriel's  spear,  causing  it  to  start  np  instanth'  in  its  true  anti- 
christian  shape. 

"  If  3  on  would  understand  j^our  duty  to  the  world  and  be  able 
to  live  for  it  to  an}-  purpose  in  your  generation,  it  is  necessary, 
first  of  all,  that  you  should  cultivate  a  firm  and  steady  faith  in  the 
reality  of  its  supernatural  relations,  and  have  regard  continually  to 
the  destin}'  of  man  as  formed  for  a  higher  stage  of  existence.  The 
smallest  measure  of  faith  here  is  of  more  value  than  any  amount  of 
useful  knowledge.  Education  is  no  blessing,  but  only  a  curse  to 
society,  if  it  be  not  based  upon  religion,  and  animated  throughout 
b}^  the  sense  of  its  supreme  authority  in  some  positive  form.  Not 
to  see  and  feel  all  this,  is  itself  a  species  of  infidelity,  which  opens 
the  wa}'  for  the  worst  disorders  and  mistakes.  It  is  to  set  the  nat- 
ural practicall}-  above  the  supernatural,  which  is  to  den}-,  in  fact, 
the  reality  of  the  last  altogether.  It  is  to  make  humanity  in  and 
of  itself,  as  it  now  stands,  sufficient  for  its  own  ends,  which  is  such 
a  lie  as  overthrows  the  whole  Gospel,  and  necessarily  turns  into 
caricature  all  truth  besides,  by  forcing  it  into  false  relations  and 
proportions.  Hence  the  universal  affinity  in  which  this  stj-le  of 
thinking  is  found  to  stand  with  all  sorts  of  rationalistic  specula- 
tion, sectarian  fanaticism,  radicalism,  socialism,  and  wild  revolu- 
tionary republicanism  of  the  most  openly  antichristian  stamp. 
Here  we  have  in  truth  the  veritable  Antichrist  of  the  present  age. 
Learn  to  know  him  and  to  be  aware  of  his  devices.  If  you  are  to 
live  wisely  for  your  generation,  it  will  depend  much,  very  much, 
on  this  one  counsel  well  kept  in  mind. 

"Finally,  to  return  again  in  conclusion,  to  what  is  more  directly 
concerned  in  the  application  of  our  theme,  let  me  exhort  you  all  to 
be  true  to  3-our  own  proper  destination,  by  seeking  each  one  of 
3'ou,  for  himself,  the  Kingdom  of  God  and  His  righteousness.  As 
it  was  once  said  hy  a  distinguished  artist,  to  account  for  the  pains 
he  took  with  his  work,  I  paint  for  eternity^  so  let  it  be  3'our  care 
also,  to  live  seriousl}^  and  earnestl3'  not  for  the  world,  which  is  now 
passing  away,  but  for  that  which  is  to  come. — Here  is  an  object 


Chap.  XXXVII]  first  baccalaureate  address  461 

M'ortliy  of  your  highest  ambition  and  most  active  zeal,  in  comparison 
with  which  the  most  dazzling  visions  of  glory  in  this  world  are  of 
as  little  worth  as  so  much  dust  or  chaff. — Meditate  on  3'our  personal 
destiny.  It  has  been  well  said,  that  the  thought  of  eternity,  brought 
home  to  the  soul  from  day  to  day,  is  for  every  man  the  thought  of 
all  thoughts,  which,  if  it  does  not  make  him  wise,  must  show  him 
to  be  mad. 

"  It  is  a  volume  of  wisdom  comprised  in  a  single  word.  Read  it 
much,  I  charge  3'ou,  and  study  it  well.  Read  it  through  the  living 
commentary  of  that  illustrious  cloud  of  witnesses,  apostles,  pro- 
phets, martyrs,  confessors,  saints  of  all  ages  and  climes,  whose  faith 
has  already  received  its  reward,  and  who  now  from  their  heavenly 
seats  look  down  npon  3'ou  with  unceasing  interest,  and  kindly 
beckon  ^-ou  to  follow  them  in  the  path  by  which  they  have  been 
conducted  to  eternal  glorj-.  Read  it  above  all  at  the  foot  of  the 
Cross,  where  in  the  person  of  Him,  who  is  the  Wa^-,  the  Truth  and 
the  Life,  nailed  upon  it,  crowned  with  thorns,  covered  with  His 
own  blood,  and  overwhelmed  with  reproach  and  contempt,  the  true 
sense  of  this  world  and  the  true  sense  of  the  next,  the  nothingness 
of  the  one  and  the  infinite  importance  of  the  other,  are  brought 
into  view  as  the}'  could  be  bj-  no  representative  besides." — Thus 
ended  this  remarkable  Baccalaureate  Address,  or  as  it  might  have 
been  st3'led,this  Baccalaureate  Sermon.  Amidst  the  gaieties  of  the 
commencement,  it  was  listened  to  with  the  profoundest  respect  b}- 
the  assembled  Alumni,  lawyers,  ph3'sicians,  clergymen,  undergrad- 
uates and  others.  It  was  regarded  as  the  most  inspiring  feature  of 
the  occasion,  and  all  believed  that  the}'  had  received  something 
valuable  to  carrv'  with  them  to  their  homes.  The  words  spoken 
were  felt  to  be  what  were  proi)er  to  be  uttered  by  one  Avho  had  come 
out  of  his  seclusion  from  the  world  to  address  his  former  pupils. — 
See  Mercersburg  Bevieiv,  November  Number,  1853. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

AS  we  shall  see  further  on  the  subject  of  a  new  Liturgy  for  the 
-^-J^  Reformed  Church  engaged  to  a  lai-ge  extent  the  attention 
of  Dr.  Nevin  during  his  retirement.  He  addressed  himself  to  it 
with  much  earnestness,  and  studied  it  profoundly.  Out  of  this  grew 
his  faith  in  the  Church  Year,  to  which  he  gaA'e  expression  in  an 
article  in  the  Mercer-sbiu'g  Bevieiv,  which  is  here  given  to  the  reader 
without  abbreviation. 

The  idea  of  a  sacred  or  ecclesiastical  year  is  not  something  pe- 
culiar to  any  particular  people  or  time.  It  grows  forth  naturally 
from  the  religious  constitution  of  man,  and  reveals  itself  spon- 
taneously in  his  religious  liistor}-,  among  all  nations  and  through 
all  ages.  Paganism,  Judaism,  Christianity,  show  themselves 
here  of  one  mind  and  feeling.  All  alike  seek  to  link  themselves 
in  this  wa}'  with  the  course  of  nature,  by  bringing  it  into  stand- 
ing connection  with  the  high  sphere  of  religion  under  their 
own  several  forms.  The  only  difference  is  in  the  order  and  quality 
of  the  spiritual  conceptions,  with  which  they  are  severall}-  occupied 
and  employed.  These,  as  they  ma}^  be  of  a  higher  or  lower  grade, 
condition  necessarily  the  way,  in  which  the  idea  in  question  maj'  be 
reduced  to  practice.  But  the  idea  itself  is  of  universal  authority 
and  force ;  and  if,  in  any  case,  it  be  hindered  from  coming  into  view, 
it  must  always  be  with  some  measure  of  A'iolent  restraint  put  upon 
the  religious  life  of  the  communities  in  which  such  exception  may 
prevail.  The  unnatural  and  artificial  here  have  place,  not  in  seek- 
ing to  join  the  solemnities  of  religion  in  this  way  with  the  circling 
course  of  the  year,  but  in  affecting  rather  to  dispense  with  all  such 
conjunction  as  something  superfluous  and  vain. 

The  general  ground  of  this  is  easily  explained.  It  lies  in  the 
close  necessar}^  connection,  which  holds  universall}^  between  the 
spiritual  life  of  a  man  and  the  constitution  of  nature.  Two  worlds, 
two  different  orders  or  spheres  of  existence,  are  joined  together  in 
man's  person.  He  is  composed  of  body  and  spirit.  In  virtue  of 
his  spirit,  he  is  above  the  whole  system  of  mere  nature  and  beyond 
it,  possesses  in  himself  a  life  which  is  no  product  or  continuation 
simply  of  its  powers,  but  the  result  of  a  new  and  higher  principle; 
and  looks  to  his  ultimate  destination  in  an  order  of  things,  to  which 

(462) 


Chap.  XXXVIII]  the  church  year  463 

plainly'  it  is  intended  to  minister  onl^-  as  a  scheme  of  transient  pre- 
liminary preparation.  On  tlie  other  hand,  however,  he  is  just  as 
truly  and  really,  for  the  present,  comprehended  by  means  of  his 
bod}^  in  this  same  system  of  nature,  as  the  ver^'-  home  of  his  being. 

Its  entire  organization  comes  to  its  last  sense,  completes  itself  in 
his  person.  The  material  creation  culminates  in  man,  as  the  point 
towards  which  all  its  powers  struggle  from  the  beginning,  and 
whose  presence  alone  serves  finall}'  to  impress  upon  its  manifold 
parts  the  unity,  roundness,  and  symmetry  of  a  common  Avhole.  He 
is  thus  the  highest  and  most  perfect  birth  of  nature,  the  full  efflor- 
escence of  its  inmost  life.  Its  powers  reach  him,  and  aftect  him, 
on  every  side.  In  this  way  his  whole  existence,  spiritual  as  well  as 
])hysical,  is  rooted  in  the  natural  world  around  him,  and  con- 
ditioned by  it  continually,  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  For  the 
two  parts  of  his  being,  spirit  and  matter,  mind  and  body,  are  not 
united  in  a  merel^^  outward  and  mechanical  way.  They  flow  to- 
gether in  the  constitution  of  a  single  life.  Hence  the  material  or- 
ganization underlies  the  spiritual  throughout,  supports  it,  enters 
into  it,  determines  more  or  less  its  entire  form  and  complexion. 

Mind,  in  the  case  of  a  man,  is  never  a  power  wholly  abstract  and 
free  from  matter;  it  is  always,  in  a  most  important  sense,  derived 
from  and  dependent  upon  the  body.  The  true  relation  between  the 
two  requires,  indeed,  that  this  last  should  be  ruled  by  the  first,  as 
the  higher  power;  that  the  material  organization  should  be  in  the 
end  so  taken  up  by  the  spiritual,  as  to  pass,  in  some  sense,  over  to 
this  out  of  its  own  sphere;  and  that  the  bod}'  should  be  glorified  into 
full  harmony  with  the  superior  nature  of  the  soul.  But  still,  with 
all  this,  the  soul  can  never  free  itself  absolutely'  from  the  power  of 
the  body.  Such  is  the  law  of  humanity.  However  it  may  be  with 
other  intelligences,  man  is  made  up  of  both  matter  and  spirit.  His 
whole  being  is  conditioned  by  the  natural  basis  in  which  it  starts, 
and  from  which  it  continues  ever  afterwards  to  grow;  just  as  the 
plant  which  blooms  towards  heaven,  draws  the  quality  of  its  leaves 
and  flowers  at  the  same  time  from  the  soil  that  secretly  gives  nour- 
ishment to  its  roots.  Primarily  and  immediately^  this  natural  basis, 
for  every  man,  is  his  own  body.  But  as  we  have  just  seen,  the 
human  bod}-  is  no  separate  and  isolated  existence  in  the  world  of 
nature. 

The  world  of  nature  is  a  system,  a  single  grand  whole,  bound 
together  in  all  its  parts,  and  looking  from  all  sides  towards  a 
common  centre;  and  this  centre  is  precisely  man  himself,  in  his 
material  organization.     To  be  dependent  on  the  body,  tlien,  is  to  be 


464  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

dependent  also  through  this  on  the  general  system  or  constitution 
in  which  it  is  thus  centrally  comprehended.  Mind,  modified  and 
conditioned  by  its  union  with  the  body,  is  in  fact  necessarily  also 
mind  modified  and  conditioned,  in  its  universal  existence,  by  the 
whole  world  of  nature  to  which  the  body  belongs.  Man  stands  in 
sympathy  and  correspondence  with  the  material  universe  on  all 
sides.  It  acts  upon  him  continually  through  all  his  senses.  It 
gives  form  to  his  affections  and  color  to  his  thoughts.  In  his 
highest  flights  of  intelligence,  he  owns  still  its  authority  and  pres- 
ence. It  surrounds  and  pervades  his  spirit  at  every  point,  and 
forms  the  very  element  in  which  he  lives,  moves,  and  has  his  being. 

Such  is  the  general  law  of  correspondence  between  the  inward 
and  outward  sides  of  our  existence  in  the  present  world,  between 
the  higher  life  of  the  soul  in  man  and  his  lower  life  in  the  body. 
We  feel  the  force  of  it  every  hour,  in  the  influence  which  is  exer- 
cised over  us  by  the  forms  of  nature  as  the^^  surround  us  in  space. 
Skies,  mountains,  seas,  plains,  forests,  rivers,  enter  into  us,  and  be- 
come part  of  our  spiritual  being.  All  natural  scenery,  in  one  word, 
is  educational.  Our  interior  life  is  conditioned  by  it  in  every  stage 
of  its  developmient.  Our  thinking  and  feeling,  from  first  to  last, 
owe  to  it  a  large  part  of  their  peculiar  character  and  form. 

And  what  is  thus  true  of  nature  as  a  S3^stem  existing  in  space,  is  no 
less  true  of  nature  as  a  system  existing  in  the  continual  flow  of  time. 
The  changes,  movements,  revolutions,  and  periods,  through  which 
the  world  is  continually  passing,  connect  themselves  with  the 
economy  of  our  inward  being,  no  less  really  than  the  material  ob- 
jects which  are  perpetually  subject  to  their  law.  Days,  months, 
years,  and  cycles  of  years,  carry  with  them  a  plastic  educational 
force  for  the  human  spirit,  fully  as  profound  and  far  reaching,  to 
say  the  least,  as  any  that  is  exercised  over  it  by  seas,  plains,  moun- 
tains, or  skies.  Indeed  of  these  two  forms  of  nature,  existence  in 
space  and  existence  in  time,  it  would  seem  that  the  last  here  must 
be  allowed  even  to  surpass  the  first  in  power.  It  lies  nearer  to  the 
soul,  and  holds  more  direct  affinity  with  its  spiritual  constitution. 
It  is  by  the  sense  of  movement  in  the  way  of  time  especially,  that 
the  more  outward  sense  of  matter  in  space  is  etherealized  and  made 
to  enter  into  the  service  of  intelligence  and  mind. 

Our  whole  existence,  spiritual  as  well  as  phj^sical,  is  continually 
influenced  in  the  most  powerful  manner  b}^  the  course  of  nature,  as 
thus  measured  by  periods  and  seasons.  We  feel  it  in  the  succes- 
sion of  day  and  night.  This  is  for  us  no  merely  outward  index  of 
time.     It  marks  a  law  of  regular  revolution  in  our  life,  which  cor- 


Chap.  XXXVIII]  the  church  year  4ri5 

responds  in  full  with  what  goes  forward  in  the  world  around  us. 
The  force  of  this  law  shows  itself  in  our  souls  as  well  as  in  our 
bodies,  in  the  activities  of  our  mind  no  less  than  in  the  pulsations 
of  our  heart.  Day  is  the  time  for  action,  niaht  for  sleep.  There 
are  strong  sympathies  in  us  also  with  particular  hours.  We  make 
inwardly  the  circuit  of  morning,  noon,  and  evening.  Midnight  con- 
stitutes a  crisis  for  our  universal  being.  Diseases  come  and  go, 
have  their  remissions  and  intermissions,  at  certain  points  of  the 
orbit.  Good  health  and  sound  understanding  alike  depend  on  prop- 
er conformity  with  the  order,  which  God  had  been  pleased  thus 
to  establish  for  us  in  the  general  constitution  of  the  natural  world. 
So  too  the  revolutions  of  the  moon  have  their  effect  upon  our  life, 
as  well  as  upon  the  growth  of  plants  or  the  ebb  and  flow  of  tides. 
And  still  more  the  grand  period  which  is  accomplished  by  the  revo- 
lution of  the  earth  round  the  sun.  The  year,  with  its  four  seasons, 
makes  its  full  circle  continually  in  man  himself,  as  really  as  in  the 
world  around  him.  Spring,  Summer,  Autumn,  and  Winter  repeat 
themselves  perpetually  in  the  onward  movement  of  his  existence. 
Clouds  and  sunshine,  all  atmospherical  changes,  all  the  varying 
phases  of  nature,  are  mirrored  in  his  consciousness  and  responded 
to  by  his  inmost  sensibilities,  in  the  order  of  the  rolling  months. 
His  existence  is  not  just  a  continuous  line  in  one  and  the  same  di- 
rection. It  proceeds  b}'  cycles  that  are  always  returning  uiion  them- 
selves. It  is  made  up  of  years,  which  repeat  themselves  with  jier- 
petual  recurrence  in  the  progress  of  his  experience,  ever  the  same 
and  yet  ever  new,  from  infancy-  to  youth,  from  youth  to  manhood, 
and  from  manhood  to  old  age.  The  year,  it  has  been  well  remarked, 
is  the  most  perfect  and  complete  measure  of  time  belonging  to  the 
earth.  It  is  not  merely  a  full  revolution  for  itself  in  which  the  end 
comes  back  to  the  beginning,  but  it  forms  also  a  distinct  whole  in 
the  organic  process  of  all  terrestrial  life.  In  many  cases  this  be- 
gins and  ends  with  the  annual  circle;  and  where  that  is  not  the 
case,  the  circle  marks  at  least  a  full  round  period  in  the  pi'ocess, 
which  may  very  fairly  be  taken  as  an  apt  representation  and  image 
of  the  whole.  Each  single  year  forms  for  every  man  a  significant 
epitome,  first  of  the  several  ages  of  his  life,  and  then  of  his  life  it- 
self in  full.  Xothing  is  more  natural,  as  notliing  is  more  common, 
than  the  sense  of  this  analog}'.  And  tlius  it  is  that  all  the  world 
over,  men  are  led  to  look  ujjou  the  year  as  the  type  and  symbol  of 
their  universal  existence  upon  the  earth,  and  under  such  view  seek 
to  make  it  the  vehicle  and  ])earer  of  what  is  most  inward  and  sjjiri- 
tual  for  their  experience,  as  well  as  of  that  wliieh  is  merely  outward 
and  jihysical. 


466  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

Here  then  we  reach  the  proper  conception  of  the  religious  or 
sacred  3'ear.  Two  ideas  are  brought  together  in  it,  which  are  ma- 
terially different  and  yet  closely  related,  religion  and  nature.  Start- 
ing in  nature,  the  life  of  man  is  required  to  complete  itself  in  re- 
ligion, as  an  order  of  existence  above  nature,  and  involving  rela- 
tions which  go  altogether  be^'ond  the  present  world.  In  the  re- 
ligious 3'ear,  all  this  is  expressed  by  an  easy  and  natural  S3'mbolism. 
The  higher  sphere  is  made  to  link  itself  with  the  lower,  in  such  a 
way  as  to  show,  at  once,  both  the  necessary-  connection  of  the  two, 
and  the  proper  subordination  of  the  last  to  the  purposes  and  ends 
of  the  first.  Religion  lets  itself  down,  as  it  were,  into  the  sphere  of 
nature,  in  order  to  raise  this  into  its  own  sphere. 

The  lower  constitution  in  this  case  is  made  to  carry^  in  itself  the 
sense  of  the  higher,  in  the  wa^-  of  figure  or  type.  Nature  passes 
into  an  allegory  of  religion.  We  should  err  greatlj^,  however,  if 
we  should  imagine  that  there  was  nothing  more  here  than  a  mere 
outward  resemblance,  arbitranlj'  established  b}^  the  wit  and  fancy 
of  man.  We  have  already  seen,  that  there  is  an  inward,  real  cor- 
respondence between  the  spiritual  and  physical  sides  of  man's  be- 
ing; and  that  this  last  is  organically  comprehended,  by  means  of 
his  body,  in  the  constitution  of  nature  as  a  whole.  From  this  it 
follows  as  a  necessary  consequence,  that  the  entire  physical  order 
of  the  world  must  look  towards  the  spiritual  in  all  its  parts,  and 
find  there  always  its  last,  most  true  and  perfect  sense.  Could  we 
understand  in  full  the  economy  of  creation,  we  should  see  the  first 
of  these  spheres  to  be  in  its  very  nature  a  perpetual  parable  of  the 
second.  So  it  was  evidently  to  the  mind  of  Christ;  and  so  we  too 
feel  it  to  be,  when  listening  to  its  most  simple  and  yet  most  pro- 
found lessons,  as  interpreted  under  this  view  from  His  lips.  It  is 
by  no  mere  figure  of  speech,  no  simply  rhetorical  metaphor  or  com- 
parison, that  the  forms  of  nature  in  space,  or  its  powers  in  time, 
are  taken  to  be  significant  of  fiicts  and  truths  in  the  higher  world 
of  the  spirit.  There  may  be  much  of  mere  fancy  and  conceit,  much 
ignorance  and  blindness,  in  particular  attempts  to  make  out  and 
express  the  full  force  of  the  correspondence  at  different  points. 
But  the  correspondence  itself  is  for  all  this  none  the  less  certain 
and  real.  The  natural  carries  in  itself  an  afilnit}'  with  the  spiritual; 
tends  towards  it  as  its  own  proper  complement  and  end;  and  forms 
everywhere  an  adumbration  of  its  invisible  presence  and  power. 
So  in  the  case  before  us,  where  the  year  is  made  to  assume  a  sacred 
or  religious  form,  by  having  the  ideas  or  facts  of  religion  lodged  in 
its  natural  revolution,  we  are  not  to  conceive  of  the  relation  as  be- 


Chap.  XXXYIII]  the  church  year  467 

ing  simply  outward  and  artificial;  but  are  bound  to  see  in  it  rather 
a  real  inwai-d  connection  between  the  things  which  are  thus  brought 
together.  In  no  other  wa}-  can  we  do  full  justice  to  the  sul)ject,  or- 
be  able  to  understand  and  explain  the  position  it  occupies  in  the 
actual  histor}'  of  the  world. 

The  existence  of  such  inward  necessary'  cause  or  reason,  in  the 
case,  is  at  once  estal)lished  by  the  fact,  already  mentioned,  that  the 
notion  of  a  sacred  year  is  found  to  prevail  among  all  people  and 
through  all  times.  It  enters  spontaneously,  as  it  would  seem,  into 
the  thoughts  of  men,  and  can  be  repressed  and  set  aside  only  b}-  a 
certain  violence  inflicted  upon  the  spirit  of  religion  itself.  What  is 
thus  natural  and  universal  can  never  be  accidental  merelj'  or  arbi- 
trary'. It  must  have  its  ground  alw^ays  in  the  real  nature  of  things. 
A  sentiment  or  practice,  in  which  all  forms  of  religion  come  together 
with  common  agreement,  cannot  be  absolutely  false  or  without 
meaning.  It  cannot  be  an  empt}'  prejudice  merely,  or  a  hurtful 
superstition.  Error  and  falsehood,  perversion  and  extravagance, 
may  correct  themselves  with  its  use.  But  no  such  corruption  can 
turn  the  principle  itself,  which  ma}-  be  thus  wronged  and  abused, 
into  a  wholesale  lie.  They  form  rather  part  of  the  evidence,  Avhieh 
goes  to  establish  its  truth.  Back  of  all  such  wrongs  and  abuses, 
this  still  stands  firm  and  secure,  as  being  by  the  universal  consent 
of  mankind  something  grounded  in  the  religious  constitution  of  the 
world  itself,  and  so  be3'ond  all  rational  contradiction  or  doubt. 

The  force  of  this  in  reference  to  the  religious  j^ear  becomes  more 
striking,  when  it  is  considered  that  the  universal  consent  in  ques- 
tion reaches  fnv  beyond  the  mere  general  notion  of  making  the  year 
in  this  wa}'  a  religious  remembrancer,  the  bearer  of  religious 
thoughts  and  ideas.  Were  this  all,  we  should  find  unbounded  free- 
dom in  the  manner  of  carrying  out  the  conception.  There  would 
be  no  fixed  order  or  rule  in  the  location  of  particulars,  in  the  deter- 
mination of  details.  All  would  be  at  the  mercy  of  fancy  or  caprice. 
Such,  however,  is  not  the  wa}',  in  which  we  find  this  universal  con- 
ception carried  out  in  the  actual  practice  of  the  world.  The  con- 
ception determines  also,  to  a  very  material  extent,  the  order  and 
mode  of  its  own  reduction  to  use.  It  is  not  satisfied  with  having 
the  year  hung  around  with  religious  garlands  and  festoons,  the 
ornamental  imagery  of  a  higher  life,  in  a  merely  loose  and  ex- 
ternal manner.  It  involves  always  the  supposition  of  some  neces- 
sary order  and  method,  growing  out  of  the  correspondence  of  the 
natural  and  spiritual  worlds  themselves,  according  to  which  only 
the  arrangement  can  be  rightly  carried  into  effect.     It  is  assumed 


468  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

throughout,  that  the  course  of  the  year  in  time,  with  its  revolving 
material  changes,  serves  to  shadow  forth  in  a  real  way  the  idea  of 
a  higher  spiritual  orbit,  through  which  man  is  to  be  regarded  as 
moving  towards  his  proper  destination  in  another  world. 

Time  is  made  to  be  the  mirror  thus  of  eternity.  The  visible  is  held 
to  reflect  the  invisible.  The  lower  sphere  is  felt  to  include  in  itself 
parabolically  the  sense  of  the  higher.  The  natural,  accordingly,  is 
not  taken  to  represent  the  spiritual  at  random,  in  any  and  every 
way,  but  only  according  to  a  law  fixed  in  its  own  constitution.  This 
we  see  exemplified  in  the  actual  judgment  and  practice  of  the  world. 
The  natural  year,  all  the  world  over,  is  made  to  underlie  the  relig- 
ious or  sacred  year,  and  to  lead  the  way  in  determining  its  order 
and  form.  The  relation  between  them  is  such, that  the  first  refers, as 
it  were,  of  its  own  accord  to  the  second,  and  offers  itself  throughout 
as  its  proper  utterance  and  expression.  The  ideas  of  the  religious 
year  are  apprehended  as  having  an  actual  representation  in  the  facts 
of  the  natural  year,  as  meeting  in  them  their  own  picture  or  echo. 
Hence  we  have,  in  the  midst  of  all  that  may  seem  to  be  confused 
and  fantastic  in  the  filling  up  of  different  forms  of  this  spiritualized 
year,  a  certain  uniformity"  of  scheme  at  the  same  time  that  serves 
to  impress  on  the  whole  a  common  character.  The  more  closel}" 
the  matter  is  examined,  the  more  clear  it  seems  to  become  that 
these  various  forms  are  themselves  in  some  way  inwardly  related; 
the  only  difference  being  that  some  are  far  more  perfect  than  others, 
in  the  measure  of  their  approximation  to  the  truth,  which  all  in 
their  way  propose  to  reach  and  express.  This  fact,  still  more  than 
the  mere  universal  notion  itself  of  a  sacred  year,  goes  conclusively 
to  show  how  trul}'  and  really  the  whole  conception  is  grounded  in 
the  natural  constitution  of  the  world. 

Religion  in  the  case  of  man,  however,  requires  more  than  the  sim- 
ple development  of  his  own  spiritual  faculties  and  powers  in  what 
ma\"  be  denominated  the  order  of  nature.  It  supposes,  as  necessary 
to  its  own  completion,  an  order  also  of  grace,  a  supernatural  revela- 
tion descending  into  the  bosom  of  the  world  in  the  form  of  actual 
history  and  fact.  The  absolute  fulness  of  this  revelation  is  reached 
at  last  in  Christ,  "in  whom  are  hid  all  the  treasures  of  wisdom  and 
knowledge."  In  the  form  of  promise,  prophecy  and  type,  it  runs 
away  back  to  the  beginning  of  the  world,  preparing  the  wa}"  through 
the  whole  period  of  the  Old  Testament  for  His  glorious  Advent. 
Necessarily  this  system  of  grace,  under  such  historical  view,  must 
be  vastly  more  for  the  religious  life  of  man  than  the  system  of  na- 
ture; and  it  might  seem,  in  one  view,  that  the  idea  of  religion  thus 


Chap.  XXXYIII]  the  church  year  469 

based  on  what  is  above  nature,  and  virtually  opposing  it  as  a  power 
antagonistic  to  faith,  would  require  no  such  union  with  it,  and  no 
such  help  from  it,  as  is  implied  in  the  conception  of  a  sacred  or  ec- 
clesiastical year;  that  its  true  interests  rather  would  be  much  better 
consulted  in  every  way,  hy  separating  it  wholl}^  from  all  such  con- 
nection with  the  merely  natural  order  of  time,  and  joining  it  in 
thought  and  association  only  with  the  supernatural  facts  which  are 
presented  to  us  in  the  Bible,  in  their  own  higher  order  and  form. 
But  here  three  thoughts  offer  themselves  to  our  view. 

First,  these  supernatural  focts  are  themselves  historical;  and  hav- 
ing thus  entered  into  the  sphere  of  nature  and  time,  they  need  to 
be  held  in  permanent  connection  with  this  for  our  thinking,  in  order 
that  they  may  be  apprehended  as  facts,  and  not  as  notions  merely 
or  imaginations.  Like  all  other  historical  events,  they  must  have 
for  us  a  local  habitation  in  our  sense  of  chronologj^,  to  be  realities 
at  all  for  our  belief.  This  of  itself  at  once  leads  to  the  conception 
of  anniversaries,  monumental  solemnities,  seasons  of  commemora- 
tion; to  the  conception,  in  one  word,  of  an  ecclesiastical  or  sacred 
year.  It  is  in  this  way,  great  national  facts  perpetuate  their  force 
in  the  mind  of  a  nation.  Other  forms  of  tradition,  oral  or  written, 
are  not  enough  for  the  purpose.  They  must  be  lodged  monument- 
ally in  the  ever  recurring  circuit  of  the  year,  that  grand  image  of 
all  time,  that  proper  epitome  of  man's  life,  both  individual  and  uni- 
A'ersal ;  so  as  to  be  in  this  wa^-  reproduced  and  called  up  anew  in 
the  national  consciousness,  age  after  age. 

This  gives  us  the  idea  of  a  political  3'ear;  which  is  constituted, 
not  just  by  a  sj'stem  of  anniversar}'  observances  in  memory  of  all 
separate  events  possessing  national  historical  interest,  but  rather 
b}-  singling  out  such  events  as  are  felt  to  be  of  cardinal  and  fun- 
damental account  in  the  history  of  the  nation,  and  making  them 
to  represent  the  whole.  Without  some  arrangement  of  this  sort, 
no  true  national  spirit  can  be  long  maintained.  But  now  the 
very  same  law  which  requires  the  great  facts  of  political  history 
to  be  kept  thus  alive,  for  the  purposes  of  patriotism,  requires 
just  as  much  the  great  facts  of  sacred  history  to  be  kept  alive  in 
the  same  manner,  for  the  purposes  of  religion ;  and  so  we  are 
brought  here  again  to  the  idea  of  an  ecclesiastical  year,  precisely- 
as  in  the  other  case  we  come  to  the  idea  of  a  political  year.  As 
historical  events,  the  facts  of  revelation  need  to  be  domiciliated 
for  our  minds,  in  this  way,  in  our  natural  sense  of  time.  With- 
out this,  they  must  ever  be  in  danger  of  becoming  for  us  mere 
shadows  and  abstractions. 


4 TO  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

Secondly,  whilst  it  is  true  that  the  order  of  grace,  resting  on 
revelation,  is  something  far  above  the  order  of  nature,  resting  upon 
the  constitution  of  the  present  world,  and  that  this  last,  regarded 
as  a  separate  system,  involves  a  certain  opposition  to  the  first ;  it 
does  not  follow  from  this,  by  any  means,  that  the  two  systems  are 
in  absolute  contradiction  to  one  another,  and  capable  of  no  agree- 
ment whatever.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  certain,  from  the  ver\^  nature 
of  the  case,  that  as  different  parts  of  the  same  creation  they  must 
be  inwardly  related,  and  closely  bound  together,  in  the  harmony 
of  a  common  divine  purpose  and  plan.  The  case  demands  not  the 
destruction  or  exclusion  of  nature,  not  a  Manichean  fanatical  hos- 
tility to  its  presence  in  any  and  ever^-  form ;  but  its  proper  subor- 
dination merely  to  the  authority  of  grace,  as  the  sphere  in  which 
it  is  formed  to  find  properly  its  own  true  significance  and  end.  In 
such  right  order,  nature  appears  no  longer  as  the  foe,  but  only  as 
the  handmaid  of  grace,  and  this  relation  too  is  found  to  be  in  no 
sense  compulsory,  but  most  perfectly  free.  The  lower  sphere 
shows  itself  to  have  been  in  truth  created  and  formed  for  the 
higher.  Nature  becomes  the  prophec}^  of  grace,  its  universal  type 
and  symbol.  The  two  systems  flow  thus  easily  and  of  their  own 
accord  together.  There  is  no  reason,  therefore,  why  the  facts  of 
revelation,  regarded  as  the  ground  of  religion,  should  be  taken  to 
exclude  or  thrust  out  of  sight  the  facts  of  nature  in  the  same  view. 

In  the  third  place,  the  more  we  look  into  the  subject  the  more 
we  shall  see  that  these  two  classes  of  facts  do  in  very  deed,  as  it 
were,  run  parallel  the  one  with  the  other,  so  as  most  readily  to  ad- 
mit the  harmonj'  of  which  we  have  just  spoken.  So  much  might 
be  presumed,  as  an  a  priori  anticipation,  on  the  supposition  that 
both  systems  proceed  from  God.  There  is  no  room  properly  for 
the  thought  of  such  correspondence,  in  the  case  of  any  simply  na- 
tional or  political  year.  Who  would  dream,  for  example,  of  setting 
the  Birth-Da}'  of  Washington,  or  the  Declaration  of  American  Inde- 
pendence, in  an}'  sort  of  connection  with  the  astronomical  charac- 
ter of  their  anniversary  seasons,  unless  it  were  in  the  way  only  of 
acknowledged  fanc}-  or  conceit?  Ordinary  national  history  is  too 
narrow  and  partial  an  interest  to  be  separately  symbolized,  in  such 
fashion,  by  the  constitution  of  nature.  It  can  be  so  sj-mbolized 
at  best,  only  as  it  is  comprehended  in  the  general  movement  which 
represents  the  history  of  the  world  as  a  whole.  The  political  year, 
accordingly,  is  not  expected  to  fall  in  with  the  full  constitution  of 
the  natural  ^-ear ;  it  is  enough,  if  it  be  brought  simpl}^  to  rest  upon 
this  as  an  outward  and  artificial  arrangement. 


Chap.  XXXVIII]  the  church  year  4V1 

But  with  the  religious  year  the  case  is  altogether  different.  This 
has  to  (To  Avith  the  most  universal  of  all  human  interests.  Religion 
is  for  no  nation  as  such,  but  for  the  whole  world.  The  focts  which 
underlie  it  historically  in  the  form  of  revelation,  are  necessaril}-  of 
the  same  universal  and  abiding  force ;  and  we  have  a  right  to  ex- 
pect, accordingly-,  that  the  constitution  of  nature,  related,  as  it  must 
be,  to  the  destiny  of  man  under  the  like  broad  view,  sliould  be  found 
to  include  a  certain  inward  correspondence  with  the  order  and 
course  of  these  supernatural  facts,  as  well  as  with  the  spiritual 
economy  itself  which  they  underlie.  And  what  might  thus  be  an- 
ticipated, we  find  to  be  in  truth  strikingly  verified  in  the. actual  re- 
lations of  the  two  systems.  The  main  historical  facts  here  have 
been  so  ordered,  in  the  wise  providence  of  Him  who  rules  all  things 
for  His  own  glory,  as  to  fall  in  chronologicalh'  with  the  very  facts 
in  nature  which  properl}'  s^-mbolize  their  sense  and  power;  thus 
rendering  it  perfectly-  eas}-  to  bring  both  systems  into  the  con- 
struction of  one  and  the  same  Church  Year.  It  is  easy  to  see 
how  this  goes,  on  the  one  hand  to  attest  the  truth  of  revelation, 
by  shoAving  its  correspondence  with  the  typolog}'  of  nature ;  while 
it  serves,  at  the  same  time,  no  less  clearly,  to  interpret  and  corrob- 
orate on  the  other  hand  the  true  sense  of  this  lower  sphere,  as 
being,  throughout,  the  terrestrial  parable  of  spiritual  and  heavenly 
things. 

The- sum  and  organic  comprehension  of  the  entire  symbolism  of 
nature  comes  to  view  in  the  Fear,  as  being  the  completion  of  a  full 
circle  in  the  process  of  all  earthly  life.  B^^  being  taken  up  into  the 
sphere  of  grace,  not  only  is  the  year  itself  glorified,  but  along  with 
it,  at  the  same  time,  the  whole  constitution  and  course  of  nature  ma^- 
be  said  to  be  glorified  also,  and  sublimated  into  a  new  and  higher 
sense.  For  the  higher  sphere,  on  the  other  hand,  the  relation  in- 
volves the  idea  of  a  real  victory  or  concpiest,  enlarging  its  rightful 
power.  The  sense  of  this  expresses  itself  in  the  ordinary  concep- 
tion o^  festival  days.  They  carrj^  with  them  the  feeling  of  joyful 
solemnity,  elevation  above  the  common  level  of  our  earthly  life, 
rest  fi'om  the  hard  work-day  character  of  our  natural  worldly  exist- 
ence in  the  bosom  of  a  higher  order  of  being,  which  is  made  to 
descend  upon  us  by  the  i)ower  of  religion.  The  ecclesiastical  3'ear 
becomes  thus  a  s3-stem  of  symbolical  festivals;  in  which  is  cele- 
brated continuall}'  the  true  and  [)roper  relationship  of  the  two  econ- 
omies of  nature  and  grace. 

Such  is  the  conception  of  the  religious  year  in  its  perfect  form. 
As  such,  it  must  be  of  course,  at  the  same  time,  the  Christian  Year. 


472  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

But  it  does  not  uecessaril3^  appear  at  once  in  this  completeness. 
Rather  it  has  a  history,  a  genesis,  through  which  it  reveals  itself 
under  various  forms,  rising  from  what  may  be  considered  its  rude 
beginnings  only  to  that  which  constitutes  at  last  its  absolute  con- 
summation. Wide  differences  characterize  these  forms ;  but  through 
all  such  differences,  they  are  still  found  to  represent  and  express 
fundamentally  the  same  idea  of  law.  So  much  indeed  is  implied  by 
the  supposition  of  an}^  real  histoiy  in  the  case.  The  idea  of  a  relig- 
ious year,  as  we  have  before  seen,  is  universal,  a  fact  seated  in  the 
religious  constitution  of  the  world.  Under  all  manifestations,  ac- 
cordinglj^  it  is  the  same  force  always  working  in  the  same  direc- 
tion. Its  different  forms  are  but  so  many  different  stages,  in  the 
progress  of  which,  it  is  carried  forward  to  its  true  ideal  perfection. 

Regarded  in  this  light,  the  sacred  year  falls,  for  our  observation, 
into  three  grand  historical  types — Pagan,  Jewish,  Christian.  To 
these  the  subject  requires  us  now  to  turn  our  attention. 

In  the  Pagan  religious  year,  we  have  the  symbolical  apprehension 
of  nature  in  its  most  elementary  and  rude  form.  The  visible  ma- 
terial creation  is  felt  to  carrj'  in  itself  the  traces  of  its  divine  origin, 
and  becomes  to  the  consciousness  in  this  way  the  sign  and  t^^pe  of 
powers  existing  mysteriously  behind  itself,  on  which  it  is  alwa3-s 
dependent  and  whose  presence  it  serves  to  reveal.  But  there  is  still 
no  clearness  in  the  perception;  and  so  no  power  of  stead}-  dis- 
crimination between  the  sign  and  the  thing  signified.  Hence  the 
two  are  made  to  flow  together,  at  the  expense  of  the  higher  thought. 
Nature  is  confounded  with  the  divine  powers  it  represents,  and 
superstitiousl}^  invested  with  their  proper  dignity  and  right.  The 
divine,  in  this  view,  becomes  earthly,  as  the  earthl}'  also  is  taken  to 
be  divine. 

It  fares  with  the  religious  nature  of  man  here,  as  in  all  other 
cases  where  it  labors  to  fulfil  its  constitutional  destiny,  Avithout  the 
help  of  an  objective  revelation.  The  effort  to  do  so  proves  an 
abortive  nisus  merely  in  the  right  direction,  which  terminates  at 
last  in  an  empty  shadow,  throwing  the  spirit  helplessly  back  upon 
the  sphere  of  nature,  which  it  had  thus  A-ainlv  struggled  to  sur- 
mount. In  all  such  cases,  however,  the  abortion  is  not  without  its 
meaning.  It  shows  what  the  religious  constitution  of  man  univer- 
sall}-  needs  and  seeks ;  and  becomes  in  this  way  a  testimony  and 
argument  for  the  truth,  which  it  has  no  power  to  reach  ;  just  as  the 
blind  force  which  turns  and  leads  the  roots  of  a  plant  towards  the 
water,  or  its  upward  growth  towards  the  light,  shows  its  necessary 
relation  to  these  elements,  even  before  this  ma^-  be  established  in 


Chap.  XXXVIII]  the  church  year  473 

fact.  Such  unsuccessful  endeavors  on  the  part  of  the  religious 
spirit,  in  the  sphere  of  Paganism,  can  never  he  more  of  course  than 
sad  caricatures  of  the  Truth  itself,  as  brought  into  full  view  by  the 
glorious  light  of  Christianity.  But  caricatures  are  still  in  their 
way  correspondences ;  and  the  old  Greek  Fathers,  therefore,  were 
perfectl}-  right,  in  looking  upon  Paganism  itself  as  a  real  prepara- 
tion in  such  view  for  the  Gospel. 

We  need  not  be  disturbed  at  all,  then,  b}-  any  parallelisms  it  may 
seem  to  offer  with  Christianity.  We  need  not  shrink  from  owning 
them  in  their  utmost  force.  We  should  be  glad  rather  to  meet 
them,  wherever  the}'  may  come  in  our  way.  They  are  just  what 
we  are  bound  to  expect  if  Christianity  be  indeed  the  absolute  truth 
of  religion,  that  in  which  all  its  partial  and  defective  manifestations 
come  to  their  final  end.  What  comparative  anatomy  and  ph3'si- 
olog}-  are  to  the  structure  of  the  human  body,  or  comparative  psy- 
chology' to  the  true  idea  of  the  human  soul,  that  precisely  compara- 
tive religion,  as  we  may  call  it,  or  the  scheme  of  religious  systems 
in  general,  is  to  Christianity.  If  this  stood  in  no  agreement  or 
correspondence  with  religion  in  other  forms,  we  might  well  ques- 
tion its  pretensions.  They  show  themselves  unquestionable,  just 
because  analogies  of  this  sort  do  press  upon  it  from  every  side,  and 
find  in  it  the  universal  and  harmonious  fulfilment  of  their  own  sense. 

The  Pagan  sacred  3'ear,  through  all  its  variations  among  differ- 
ent nations,  proceeds  always  on  the  theory  of  a  merel}'  natural  or 
physical  religion.  The  relation  of  the  sun  to  the  earth  is  felt  darkle- 
to  signif)-,  and  then  in  some  way  to  actually  involve,  the  higher 
spiritual  destinies  of  the  world,  as  well  as  its  simply  outward 
changes.  The  active  and  passive  forces  of  nature,  represented  in 
this  relation,  are  confounded  with  the  notion  of  divine  powers.  All 
becomes  mythology-,  a  play  of  the  religious  fanc}',  constructed  on 
the  basis  of  purely  phj^sical  facts  and  changes.  This  may  be  clearl}- 
seen  especially  in  the  Roman  Heathenism,  which  is  to  be  regarded 
as  the  last  result  only  or  falling  together  of  all  older  Pagan  relig- 
ions. It  is  throughout  pure  naturalism,  based  upon  the  movements 
of  the  astronomical  or  solar  year.  Its  twelve  superior  deities  per- 
sonify the  s^'stem  of  the  twelve  months,  the  course  of  the  year 
through  the  signs  of  the  zodiac,  the  great  leading  changes  wrought 
by  the  sun,  during  this  period,  in  the  life  of  the  earth.  We  have 
no  room  here  to  follow  out  the  correspondence  in  its  details ;  nor 
is  it  necessary.  It  is  enough  for  our  purpose  to  state  the  general 
fact. 

The  equinoxes  and  solstices  form  the  four  cardinal  points  of  the 
30 


474  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

process,  and  rule  throughout  the  order  of  its  symbolism.  The  old- 
est Pagan  years  were  made  to  commence  in  the  Fall,  equinoctially. 
The  later  Roman  year,  on  the  other  hand,  was  solstitial,  opening  in 
the  Winter.  In  both  cases,  however,  the  order  and  sense  of  the 
symbolism  is  substantially  the  same.  It  starts  with  the  time,  in 
which  the  powers  of  nature  are  shut  up,  as  it  were,  in  its  interior 
economy  ;  the  life  of  the  earth  in  a  state  of  deep  slumber ;  the 
strength  of  the  sun  in  a  great  measure  unfelt.  Through  the  winter 
months,  we  have  a  struggle  between  the  forces  of  darkness  and 
light,  resulting  continually  more  and  more  in  the  triumph  of  the 
last.  The  heavens  gain  power.  With  the  progress  of  Spring,  this 
power  descends  into  the  air  and  earth,  causing  the  whole  sphere  to 
wake  into  new  life.  In  Summer  the  victory  becomes  complete. 
The  sun  ciilminates  in  the  June  solstice,  and  exercises  universal 
dominion  in  the  form  both  of  light  and  heat.  He  sliines  as  Mer- 
cury ;  burns  and  thunders  as  Jupiter.  The  earth  is  made  to  teem 
with  living  spirit.  Afterwards  the  heavens  seem  to  bury  them- 
selves in  its  bosom.  All  becomes  fruit,  harvest,  vintage.  Then 
follows  a  new  equilibrium,  and  sort  of  second  Spring,  more  spirit- 
ual than  the  first,  in  the  grave  form  of  Autumn.  The  process  com- 
pletes itself  as  the  full  maturity  of  terrestrial  life  ;  which  thus  re- 
turns back  again  from  its  outward  action  into  its  own  original 
stillness  (the  gloomy  reign  of  Proserpine),  only  to  make  room  for 
a  new  circuit  afterwards  under  the  same  form. 

In  all  this,  there  was  for  the  Pagan  mind  a  reference  to  the  gen- 
eral conception  of  religion ;  that  is,  to  the  idea  of  7-edemption,  as  a 
process  of  deliverance  from  the  powers  of  darkness  and  evil,  which 
are  felt  universally  to  press  upon  the  life  of  man  in  this  woi'ld.  To 
be  real,  this  process  must  begin  in  the  soul,  must  be  spiritual.  For 
the  natural  religious  consciousness,  however,  it  has  its  mirror  in 
the  life  of  nature  as  set  forth  by  the  process  of  the  solar  3'ear.  This, 
unfortunatel}-,  has  no  power  to  bring  into  view  the  positive  super- 
natural realities,  through  whose  power  alone  it  is  possible  for  the 
symbolized  idea  to  become  fact.  That  requires  the  historical  in- 
tervention of  a  higher  life,  in  the  form  of  revelation.  Having  no 
such  help,  Paganism  could  never  make  its  escape,  as  we  haA^e  seen, 
from  the  sphere  of  nature.  Matter  and  spirit  fell  confusedly  to- 
gether. All  ended  in  a  purely  physical  mythology,  of  the  most 
fantastic  and  barren  kind. 

But  shall  we  say,  for  this  reason,  that  there  is  no  connection 
really  between  the  course  of  nature  and  the  process  of  redemp- 
tion in  its   true  and  proper  form?     By  no  means.     The    Pagan 


Chap.  XXXVIII]  the  church  year  475 

feeling  on  this  subject  was  right,  although  dark  and  confused.  The 
enigma  did  not  lose  its  sense,  nor  cease  to  be  a  real  prophetical 
burden  for  the  human  soul,  merely  because  it  came  to  no  true  inter- 
pretation. There  exists,  we  have  good  reason  to  believe,  a  real 
analogy  or  parallelism,  between  the  natural  A'ear  and  the  system  of 
redemption,  in  virtue  of  which,  the  last  is  typified  by  the  first 
throughout,  in  a  way  far  be3'ond  all  simply  fanciful  conceit.  This 
can  be  fully  ai)prehended,  of  course,  only  where  the  system  of  re- 
demption itself  comes  full}'  into  view;  that  is  to  say,  onl}-  in  the 
full  light  of  Christianity',  the  end  and  completion  of  religion  in 
every  other  view. 

The  Jetcish  religious  j'ear  was  of  a  vastly  higher  order  than  the 
Pagan.  It  was  established  b}^  divine  law,  and  rested  immedietely 
on  historical  facts,  miracles  of  grace  actuallv  wrought  in  the  world, 
and  serving  to  reveal  in  the  bosom  of  nature  the  intervention  of  a 
supernatural  life.  What  nature  struggled  in  vain  to  reach  and  ex- 
press witliout  revelation,  was  here  to  a  certain  extent  supplied  b}' 
its  pi-esenee.  With  such  higher  character,  Judaism  necessarily 
stood  opposed,  at  the  same  time,  to  the  wa}'  in  which  the  religion 
of  nature  was  carried  out  b}-  Paganism,  involving,  as  this  did,  an 
apostasy  Avhich  changed  the  truth  of  God  into  a  lie  and  drew  after 
it  all  the  abominations  of  idolatry.  Its  mission  was  to  prepare  the 
way,  on  the  one  hand,  for  the  coming  of  Christ,  and  on  the  other, 
to  turn  the  human  mind  away  from  nature,  that  it  might  be  fixed 
upon  itself  and  made  to  know  its  own  need  of  redemption.  Both 
these  purposes  called  for  laws  and  positive  institutions.  Nature 
was  not  to  be  set  aside;  it  was  still,  with  all  its  yearl}'  changes,  a 
manifestation  of  divine  powers;  but  it  must  not  be  confounded  with 
the  notion  of  these  powers  themselves.  The  symbol  must  pass  into  a 
better  sense,  b}'  being  made  an  allegory  of  history,  an  image  in  the 
world  of  sense,  representing  God's  actual  dealings  of  grace  with  men. 

The  peculiaritv  of  the  Jewish  year  is,  that  it  has  not  only  j'carly 
but  u-ct'lhi  sacred  da^'s.  It  starts  from  the  Sabbath,  as  the  centre 
wliicii  lull's  and  conditions  its  whole  construction.  It  has  yearly 
festivals  also;  but  they  are  made  to  liinge  on  the  weekly  institution, 
as  the  primary  power.  This  of  itself  had  a  tendency  to  break  the 
force  of  the  simpl}'  phA'sical  3'ear,  as  it  ruled  the  religious  thinking 
of  the  Pagan  world;  and  contributed  ver^-  materiallv,  beyond  all 
question,  to  raise  the  idea  of  worship  out  of  the  element  of  nature 
into  a  different  and  far  higher  region,  that  of  history,  God's  super- 
natural conduct  and  providence,  employed  for  the  redemption  and 
salvation  of  Ilis  chosen  people. 


476  IN   RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

But  with  all  this  care  taken  to  guard  against  perversion  and 
abuse,  regard  was  still  had  to  the  natural  year,  as  being  of  itself  in 
true  harmony  and  correspondence  with  the  life  of  religion  in  man. 
This  appears  at  once  from  the  fact,  that  the  great  annual  festivals 
were  made  to  fall  in  with  those  parts  of  the  year  precisely,  which 
corresponded  parabolically  with  their  proper  signification  and 
sense.  They  were  not  founded  directl}^  on  these  ;  all  of  them  rested 
on  grand  historical  facts,  which  they  served  to  commemorate  from 
age  to  age ;  but  these  facts  themselves  had  been  so  ordered,  as  to 
concur  with  the  times  in  question.  The  epochs  of  history"  fell  in 
wonderfully  with  the  epochs  of  nature.  The  Passover,  commem- 
orating the  deliverance  of  Israel  from  the  bondage  of  Egypt,  an- 
swered in  this  way  to  the  time  when  the  whole  Pagan  world  cele- 
brated the  renewal  of  nature  through  the  return  of  spring.  So  in 
like  manner,  Pentecost  and  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles,  resting  on 
the  memory  of  other  dispensations  of  God's  favor  towards  the 
same  people,  had  their  significant  analogies  also  in  the  positions 
assigned  to  them  in  the  natural  year,  which  it  is  bj'-  no  means  diffi- 
cult to  discover  and  understand.  Have  we  any  right  to  look  upon 
this  as  a  merely  accidental,  and  therefore  unmeaning  concurrence  ? 
We  think  it  must  be  plain  to  all,  that  we  have  not.  It  must  be 
viewed  as  belonging  to  the  plan  of  the  world ;  and  goes  to  confirm 
what  we  have  already  said,  that  according  to  this  plan  a  real  orig- 
inal and  necessaiy  parallelism  holds  between  the  two  systems  of 
nature  and  grace,  in  virtue  of  which  the  first  is  to  be  regarded  as 
ever^'where  adumlirating  the  sense  of  the  second. 

True,  the  sacred  year  of  the  Jews  was  made  to  commence  in  the 
Spring;  diff"ering  in  this  respect  from  that  of  Paganism,  which 
dated  from  Autumn  or  the  first  part  of  Winter.  But  then  the  s^-s- 
tem  took  no  account  comparatively  of  the  period  between  Autumn 
and  Spring.  This  suited  the  character  of  the  Old  Testament  dis- 
pensation, under  which  the  process  of  grace  preparatory  to  re- 
demption lay  back  of  the  fact  itself,  in  a  sort  of  hidden  mystery, 
like  the  powers  of  nature  during  the  reign  of  Winter.  With  the 
coming  of  Christ,  this  mystery  clears  into  magnificent  light.  The 
process  of  redemption  is  found  moving  its  course,  first  in  His  jjer- 
son,  in  order  that  it  may  break  forth  in  the  full  victory  of  Easter, 
as  a  fact  accomplished  for  the  world  at  large.  Here  the  mystery 
of  Winter  finds  at  last  its  proper  spiritual  meaning.  The  j^ear  of 
religion  falls  back  again  in  its  order,  and  is  brought  thus  once 
more  to  commence  where  the  jear  of  nature  also  of  right  begins. 
Only  the  correspondence  is  now  such  as  to  light  up  the  movement 


Chap.  XXXVIII]  the  church  year  477 

with  celestial  splendor  from  beginning  to  end.  Xjiture  appears 
transfused  throughout  with  spirit  and  life.  Grace  reigns  triumph- 
ant over  all  the  months  and  seasons. 

This  is  the  ChriHtian  Year.  The  universal  character  of  Chris- 
tianity', as  compared  both  with  Judaism  and  Paganism,  is  fulfilment 
or  completion.  Judaism  stood  far  above  all  simply  natural  religion. 
It  was  a  S3'stem  of  revelation.  It  rested  on  supernatural  history. 
Still  it  was  onl}'  a  relative  and  partial  exhibition  of  the  truth  in 
such  form,  the  shadow  of  blessings  to  come.  For  this  reason,  it 
could  never  do  full  justice  to  Paganism.  It  was  the  direct,  broad 
contradiction  of  the  wholesale  lie  into  which  this  had  fallen,  by 
substituting  mere  nature  for  the  proper  idea  of  God  ;  but  such 
contradiction  had  no  power  of  itself  to  harmonize  with  their  true 
end  the  principles  and  tendencies,  out  of  whose  corruption  the 
falsehood  sprang.  There  was,  accordingly',  an  antagonism  here, 
that  called  for  reconciliation  in  a  still  deeper  and  more  comprehen- 
sive sphere  of  life.  In  the  fulness  of  time  this  appeared  in  Christ, 
the  Word  made  Flesh.  "He  is  our  Peace,"  says  the  Apostle,  the 
end  of  all  previous  discords ;  the  last  full  sense  of  man's  relations 
to  himself,  to  the  world  and  God.  In  Ilim,  Judaism  was  fulfilled  and 
Paganism  explained.  Christianity  is  the  absolute  truth,  in  which 
both  the  types  of  the  one,  and  the  dark  endeavors  of  the  other,  are 
satisfied  and  brought  to  rest.  This  general  character  appears  in 
its  universal  constitution ;  and  so  among  other  things  embraces 
also  the  structure  of  its  sacred  3'ear.  Religion  in  the  form  of  na- 
ture, and  religion  in  the  form  of  histor}',  come  here  to  a  perfect 
understanding  and  agreement.  The  constitution  of  the  world  is 
sanctified,  by  being  taken  up  into  the  constitution  of  grace.  The 
year  of  religion  is  now  truly  and  properly  a  Church  Year. 

If  the  correspondence  between  the  historical  fixcts  of  Judaism 
and  the  course  of  nature  be  striking,  as  we  have  just  seen,  the  cor- 
respondence between  the  great  facts  of  Christianit}'  and  the  same 
course  of  nature  is  more  wonderful  and  instructive  still;  showing 
most  manifestly  the  presence  of  a  common  thought  in  both,  b}' 
which  the  one  is  to  be  considered  a  true  type  and  figure  of  the 
other.  Who  in  his  senses  can  imagine,  that  no  such  significance 
attaches  to  the  time  of  our  Saviour's  death  and  resurrection;  or 
that  the  festival  of  Easter  has  been  determined  thus  b^'  a  fortuitous 
correspondence  only,  to  the  period  of  the  vernal  equinox  ?  Who 
that  thinks  can  fail  to  see  in  the  Festivals  of  Ascension  and  Pente- 
cost a  similar  relation  to  the  triumphant  progress  of  the  sun  to- 
wards the  summer  solstice,  and  the  changes  which  are  brought  to 


478  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

pass  bj'  it  on  the  earth?  And  so  much  being  allowed,  who  can 
have  a  right  to  consider  it  an  emptj'  pla^^  of  fancy  only,  when  the 
months  going  before  Easter,  from  the  beginning  of  Winter,  are 
taken  to  s^^mbolize  the  process  of  redemption,  as  carried  forward 
previously  to  that  point  in  the  mystery  of  Christ's  own  person;  or 
when  the  months  following  Pentecost,  on  to  the  close  of  Autumn, 
are  made  to  symbolize  in  like  manner  the  progress  of  the  same 
work,  as  carried  forward  subsequently  in  the  life  of  the  Church? 
In  both  cases,  what  a  field  for  pious  contemplation!  Analogies,  of 
the  most  interesting  sort,  thicken  upon  our  view,  just  in  proportion 
as  we  give  the  subject  our  earnest  attention. 

Our  limits  will  not  allow  us  to  enter  here  into  any  more  particu- 
lar consideration  of  the  organism  or  structure  of  the  Christian 
Year.  The  object  of  this  article  has  been  merely  to  bring  into 
view  the  general  nature  of  the  conception,  and  the  grounds  on  which 
it  properly  challenges  our  religious  respect. 

Those  who  fancy,  that  the  use  of  any  such  scheme  of  worship  is 
without  reason  or  meaning,  or  who,  it  maj^  be,  permit  themselves 
even  to  stigmatze  it  as  an  unprofitable  and  hurtful  superstition,  be- 
tray at  once  their  own  want  both  of  earnestness  and  knowledge. 
There  is  in  truth  a  deep  foundation  for  it  in  the  constitution  of  na- 
ture, and  it  falls  in  with  the  universal  spirit  of  religion.  Christian- 
ity differs  from  other  religions  here,  only  b}^  passing  be^'ond  them 
in  the  fulness  and  perfection  of  its  image.  The  feeling,  Avhich  justi- 
fies and  prompts  the  conception  of  a  religious  year,  found  nothing 
to  counteract  it  in  the  coming  of  Christ,  but  much  to  favor  it,  much 
to  assist  and  carried  it  forward  in  the  right  direction.  The  great 
facts  of  Christianity  served  powerfull}'  of  themselves  to  call  it  into 
exercise.  The  lively  apprehension  of  them,  which  prevailed  in  the 
mind  of  the  earl}'  Church,  made  it  impossible  to  avoid  so  natural 
an  observance.  The  Christian  year,  accordingly,  is  as  old  as  the 
Christian  Church  itself.  What  an  amount  of  interest  do  we  not 
find  clustering  around  the  solemnity  of  Easter,  from  the  earliest 
times!  The  idea  of  such  a  year,  and  its  general  outlines,  leaving 
room  of  course  for  much  filling  up  afterwards  in  its  details,  entered 
into  the  universal  thinking  of  the  Church,  and  conditioned  the  en- 
tire S3'Stem  of  its  worship,  from  the  beginning.  It  did  so,  more- 
over, spontaneously,  and  by  the  necessity,  as  it  were,  of  an  inward 
law.  It  came  not  primarih'  by  art  and  reflection,  but  grew  forth 
rather  as  a  natural  product  from  the  Christian  consciousness  itself. 

And  so  we  may  add,  its  true  sense  and  force  can  never  be  fully 
measured  by  any  merel}'  logical  standard.     It  speaks,  not  just  to 


CiiAP.  XXXVIII]  THE  CHURCH  year  479 

the  understanding  of  niun,  but  fur  more  to  his  feeling  and  heart. 
Its  voice  is  for  the  deep  places  of  the  soul,  where  life  reigns  as  a 
full  power  back  of  all  partial  forms  of  expression.  Hence  the  au- 
thority it  has  carried  with  it  for  the  Christian  world  through  all 
ages.  Only  since  the  Reformation  has  the  attempt  been  made,  not 
l)V  Protestantism  in  general,  but  by  a  fragmentary  section  of  Prot- 
estantism, to  set  aside  the  whole  conception  and  practice  as  a  "relic 
of  superstition,"  serving  to  encumber  more  than  to  assist  the  prop- 
er spirituality  of  Christian  worship.  But  of  what  force  can  any 
such  isolated  judgment  be,  over  against  the  united  mind  of  the 
Church  in  all  past  centuries,  backed  as  this  is,  at  the  same  time,  by 
the  religious  constitution  of  the  world,  and  by  its  religious  history 
also,  in  the  most  universal  view?  The  exception  is  too  violent,  too 
monstrous,  we  may  saj-,  to  stand. 

Anj^  attempt  to  set  aside  the  proper  Church  Year,  involves  neces- 
sarily an  attempt  also  to  substitute  for  it  some  other  scheme  of 
religious  solemnities,  contrived  to  serve  the  same  end ;  for  there  is 
a  natural  instinct  or  impulse  here,  which  will  not  allow  itself  to  be 
long  absolutel}-  disregarded.  But  no  such  scheme  can  ever  carr}- 
with  it  anything  like  the  same  worth  for  the  ends  of  religion.  Every 
other  scheme  must  be  in  comparison  mechanical  merel}'  and  super- 
ficial. All  experience  goes  to  show,  that  no  system  of  Christian 
instruction,  no  method  of  Christian  worship,  can  ever  be  so  effec- 
tive for  Church  purposes,  as  that  which  is  based  on  the  proper  use 
of  the  ecclesiastical  3'ear.  As  it  is  always  an  unnatural,  so  it  is 
always  a  poor  and  hurtful  exchange,  where  this  is  given  up  in  fovor 
of  any  other  arrangement ;  and  it  is  certain  that  no  such  new  ar- 
rangement can  be  able  to  compete  successfull3',  in  the  long  run, 
with  the  infinitel}'  more  respectable  authority  of  the  older  system. 

The  i)rinciple  of  the  Church  Year  is  of  vastl}-  more  consequence 
than  is  commonly  imagined.  It  goes  deep  into  the  very  heart  of 
Christianit3\  So  it  must  do,  necessarily,  if  we  have  now  taken 
any  right  view  at  all  of  its  nature.  There  is  a  most  intimate  con- 
nection ])etween  the  use  of  such  a  scheme  of  worship  and  the  i)rac- 
tical  apprehension  of  the  great  facts  of  Christianity  in  their  own 
proper  form.  Puritanism, in  this  case, pretends  to  be  more  spiritual 
than  the  old  Church  faith,  as  it  does  also  in  so  manj-  other  cases, 
b}'  setting  its  worship  above  all  outward  forms  and  conditions. 
But  such  spiritualism  is  something  ver^'  different  from  real  spirit- 
ual it}'. 

The  difliculty  with  this  whole  habit  of  mind  is  its  want  of 
l)Ower  to   receive  and    hold    the    iiistorical   truths   of   the   Gospel, 


480  IN   RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DlV.  X 

not  as  ideas,  merely,  but  as  realities  and  facts.  It  is  sadl}'  in- 
fected throughout  with  the  old  leaven  of  Gnosticism,  which  is,  ever 
in  disguise,  again  nothing  else  but  the  secret  virus  of  Rationalism. 
It  is  but  the  natural  result  of  such  character,  that  it  should  be  un- 
friendly to  the  Church  festivals,  and  to  the  whole  idea  of  the 
Church  Year;  and  so,  on  the  other  hand,  it  may  be  assumed,  that 
this  ancient  system  cannot  an}' where  go  into  general  disuse  or  neg- 
lect, without  serious  loss  to  the  true  interests  of  religion,  just  in 
the  direction  of  such  Gnostic  or  rationalistic  thinking.  The  sys- 
•  tem  forms  a  necessary  part  of  the  churchlj'  scheme  of  Christianity. 
Where  it  has  fallen  to  the  ground,  there  can  be  no  right  sense  of 
the  Ch\irch;  no  proper  faith  in  the  holy  sacraments;  no  sound  litur- 
gical feeling;  no  active  sympathy  with  the  grand  facts  which  are 
set  forth  in  the  Creed;  and  no  firm  hold  on  the  abiding  power  of 
these  facts,  as  an  order  of  grace  moving  onward  in  sublime  corres- 
pondence with  the  order  of  nature  to  the  end  of  time. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

MUCH  of  r>r.  Neviii's  time  during  his  period  of  seclusion  was 
occupied  in  the  study  of  the  Liturgical  Question  and  in  the 
preparation  of  an  Agenda  or  Liturgy  for  the  use  of  the  Reformed 
Church.  The  subject  to  him  was  somewhat  new,  and  occupying 
much  of  his  attention  served  to  give  a  health}'  direction  to  his 
thoughts.  We  here  give  a  history  of  this  movement  with  his  rela- 
tions to  it,  and  allow  it  to  extend  beyond  the  present  chronological 
division  of  his  life. 

At  first  the  old  German  Liturgj%  published  in  the  Palatinate,  Ger- 
many, in  1563,  was  in  general  use  in  the  Reformed  Church  in  this 
countr}',  but  being  out  of  print  copies  of  it  became  more  and  more 
rare.  Church  members  seldom,  if  ever,  saw  it.  In  1840  a  new  litur-  , 
gy,  the  work  mainh'  of  Dr.  Lewis  Maj-er,  was  adopted  by  the  Synod  v 
and  recommended  to  the  ministers  for  use,  on  stated  occasions.  It 
was,  however,  considered  unhistorical,  not  based  on  older  liturgies, 
and  failing  to  give  general  satisfaction  it  served  a  good  purpose 
only  as  the  occasion  for  a  deeper  stud}'  of  what  a  genuine  liturgy 
ought  to  be.  The  progress  of  a  strong  liturgical  tendency  in  Ger- 
many, more  particular!}'  in  the  Evangelical  Church  of  Prussia,  made 
itself  felt  in  this  country,  most  especially  through  Dr.  Rauch  and  * 
Dr.  Schaff.  The  former  said  that  a  liturgy  was  "a  work  of  art:" 
the  latter  said,  "it  was  a  growth  from  the  inner  life  of  the  Church, 
in  which  one  period  or  age  teaches  those  that  followed  it  how  to 
pray."     Such  thoughts  naturally  took  root,  grew  and  bore  fruit. 

In  1847,  the  Chassis  of  East  Pennsylvania,  composed  mostly  of 
aged  German  ministers,  requested  the  Synod  of  Lancaster  to  make 
arrangements  to  prepare  another  liturgy,  which  should  represent 
more  fully  the  spirit  and  animus  of  the  Reformed  Church.  As 
this  was  felt  to  be  a  matter  of  great  imj)ortance,  it  was  deemed  ad- 
visable on  the  part  of  the  Synod  first  to  ascertain  the  sense  of  the 
Church  on  the  subject,  and  the  whole  matter  was  referred  to  the 
Classes  for  further  instructions,  before  any  step  in  advance  should 
be  taken. — At  the  Synod  of  Ilagerstown,  Md.,  in  1848,  tlie  Classes, 
with  only  one  exception,  reported  in  favor  of  an  onward  movement, 
and  after  a  careful  survey  of  the  ground,  and  considerable  discus- 
sion, the  subject  in  all  its  bearings  was  referred  to  a  committee, 
which  was  to  report  at  the  annual  meeting  the  vear  following. 

(481) 


482  IN    RETIREMENT    EROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

At  the  Synod  of  Norristown,  in  1849,  an  elaborate  report  was  pre- 
sented by  the  Rev.  J.  H.  A.  Bomberger,  Chairman  of  the  Committee, 
in  which  the  general  posture  of  the  earl}'  Church,  and  of  the  Church 
of  the  Reformation,  was  set  fortli,  together  with  a  series  of  resolu- 
tions in  favor  of  an  immediate  onward  movement  for  the  formation 
of  a  liturgy,  suitable  to  the  wants  of  the  body  represented  by  the 
Synod.  The  resolutions  affirmed  that  the  use  of  liturgical  forms 
fell  in  clearly  with  the  practice  and  genius  of  the  original  Protestant 
Church;  that  there  was  no  reason  existing  in  the  state  of  the 
American  German  Church,  at  that  time,  to  justif}'  a  departure  from 
ancient  usage;  that  the  Liturgy  then  authorized  was  inadequate  to 
meet  the  wants  of  the  Church,  because,  apart  from  other  defects,  it 
makes  no  provision  for  ordinary  occasions  of  puhlic  looi^sliip;  that 
whilst  the  older  Reformed  Liturgies  are  in  general  worth}'  of  adop- 
tion, there  is  still  need  of  various  modifications  to  adapt  them  fully 
to  the  circumstances  and  wants  of  the  times ;  that  the  time  being 
was  as  favorable  for  action  in  the  case  as  anj-  that  could  be  thought 
of  in  the  future;  and,  that,  accordingly', it  was  expedient  to  pi'oceed 
forthwith  in  the  work  of  providing  for  the  Church  a  new  Liturgy. — 
With  slight  modifications,  the  entire  report  was  adopted, and  a  large 
committee  was  appointed  to  proceed  with  the  work,  and  report  at 
the  next  Synod  the  plan  of  such  a  Liturgy  as  the  interests  of  the 
Church  might  be  supposed  to  require. 

The  original  Committee  consisted  of  the  Rev.  J.  W.  Nevin,  D.D., 
Rev.  Philip  Schaff,  D.D.,  Rev.  B.  C.  Wolff,  D.D.,  Rev.  Joseph  F. 
Berg,  D.D.,  Rev.  Elias  Heiner,  D.D.,  Rev.  J.  H.  A.  Bomberger, 
D.D.,  Rev.  Henry  Harbaugh,  D.D.,  and  the  Elders,  William  Hey- 
ser,  Hon.  J.  C.  Bucher,  Hon.  G.  C.  Welker,  and  Dr.  Caspar  Schaef- 
fer.  Subsequently  Prof.  Thos.  C.  Porter,  B.D.,  Rev.  D.  Zacharias, 
D.D.,  Rev.  S.  R.  Fisher,  D.D.,  Rev.  E.  Y.  Gerhart,  D.D.,  Rev. 
Thomas  G.  Appel,  D.D  ,  and  the  Elders,  George  Shafer,  John 
Rodenraayer  and  Dr.  L.  H.  Steiner,  were  added  to  the  Committee, 
substituted  in  the  places  of  the  members  who  had  resigned  or  could 
not  attend  the  meetings. 

Naturally-  Dr.  Nevin  became  the  mouth-piece  of  this  movement, 
and  in  the  November  number  of  the  Mercersburg  Review,  accord- 
ingly, he  congratulated  the  Church  that  "  so  auspicious  a  com- 
mencement had  at  length  been  made  in  this  high  and  solemn  work." 
At  the  same  time  the  reader  of  his  article  may  see  what  his  ideas 
were  in  regard  to  a  genuine  liturgy  at  that  early  da}'. 

"For  two  years  past,"  he  sa3'S,  "the  subject  has  been,  in  a  cer- 
tain sense,  before  the  mind  of  the  Church,  but  in  such  a  way,  un- 


Chap.  XXXIX]       the  liturgical  movement  483 

fortunatel}',  tlitit  it  has  not  been  able  to  eonie  to  any  fair  and  open 
discussion.  There  h^'-s  evidently  been  a  feeling  of  embarrassment 
in  venturing  to  approaeh  it,  and  a  disposition  to  hold  it  at  arm's 
length,  which  has  thus  far  stood  ver}-  much  in  the  way  of  a  just 
consideration  of  its  rights  and  claims.  In  the  meantime,  the  wish, 
that  has  thus  been  suppressed,  has  been  gradually  making  itself  to 
be  more  and  more  felt  on  all  sides ;  until  at  length  it  is  found  forc- 
ing its  own  way  to  the  clear  utterance,  as  it  were,  from  which  it 
had  been  so  long  previously'  withheld  and  restrained.  The  prepa- 
ration for  a  new  Liturgy  has  been  altogether  more  general  and 
deep,  it  would  now  seem,  than  most  persons  before  had  imagined. 
The  Synod  at  first  was,  by  no  means,  clear  in  regard  to  its  own 
mind.  But  discussion,  once  fairly  set  fi-ee,  caused  a  whole  world 
of  fog  to  pass  away ;  and  the  bodj'  was  taken  with  a  sort  of  sur- 
prise, in  the  end,  at  the  unanimity*  of  its  views  and  feelings,  where 
it  had  so  needlessly  been  haunted  with  the  spectre  of  controversy 
and  discord.    The  discussion  has,  in  all  respects,  had  a  happy  effect. 

"As  the  case  now  stands  the  door  is  thrown  open  for  the  most 
free  discussion  of  the  whole  liturgical  qnestion.  Not  only  is  it  al- 
lowed, but  it  is  loudly  demanded  and  required.  It  is  not  enough 
to  follow  a  mere  blind  sense  of  want,  or  to  obey  a  tendenc}',  how- 
ever good  in  itself:  we  need  a  clear  insight  into  our  want,  and  a 
rational  mastery  over  our  movement.  This  cannot  be  done  without 
much  thought,  much  consultation  and  debate.  It  is  not  enough 
that  the  ministers,  and  some  of  the  elders,  should  be  satisfied ;  the 
case  requires  that  the  people,  the  churches  generally,  should  have 
their  views  enlightened,  their  hearts  disposed  and  prepared  for 
what  may  be  done.  This  is  indeed  one  of  the  last  cases  in  which 
an}'  end  is  to  be  carried  b}'  management  or  trick.  Xo  one  need 
fear  discussion. 

"If  we  are  to  have  a  liturgy  at  all,  it  is  of  the  utmost  conse- 
quence that  we  should  have  a  good  one;  and  this  requires,  in  the 
first  place,  a  true  and  just  idea  of  what  a  liturg}'  means;  and  in  tlie 
second  place,  some  inward  preparation  for  the  use  of  one  in  its 
proper  form.  We  have  no  right  then,  and  nobody  surely  should 
have  any  wish,  to  prevent  the  most  full  and  free  study  of  the  sub- 
ject in  all  its  length  and  breadth,  in  order  that  if  possible  these 
necessary'  conditions  of  success,  in  so  vast  and  solemn  an  enter- 
prise, may  be  duly  secured.  Let  the  subject  be  examined  without 
prejudice,  or  deference  to  surrounding  prejudice,  or  shy  jealousy  of 
an}'  particular  tcndmcy :  as  though  such  a  thing  might  be  allowed 
to  hoodwink  a  whole  Church  out  of  its  sober  rationality,  and  we 


484  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

would  forestall  all  that,  and  take  care  of  its  proper  liberty  by  lay- 
ing a  bridle  on  its  neck  beforehand,  to  keep  it  from  going  too  far! 
The  danger  here  is  not  in  free  inquiry,  but  in  the  want  of  it. 

"  What  is  most  of  all  to  be  deprecated,  is  the  formation  of  an 
unripe  Liturgy;  one  that  may  fall  behind  the  true  inward  demands 
of  the  interest  itself,  and  fail,  accordingly,  to  satisfy  in  the  end  the 
very  want  from  which  it  springs.  Everj^thing  here  depends  on 
starting  right.  Our  Liturgy  will  take  its  character  and  complexion 
finally  from  the  end  it  is  designed  to  serve.  If  it  is  taken  to  be  a 
mere  outward  help  and  convenience  for  public  worship,  a  sort  of 
crutch  to  assist  the  decent  conduct  of  our  sanctuar}'  devotions, 
it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  we  shall  bring  to  it  anything  better 
than  such  poor  mechanical  character.  Better  no  Liturgy  at  all,  we 
say  from  the  bottom  of  our  heart,  than  one  produced  from  such 
a  spirit  and  constructed  on  such  a  plan.  If  we  are  to  have  a  Liturgy 
that  is  worth  anything,  we  must  seek  it  and  accept  it  under  a  wide- 
ly different  view.  We  must  embrace  it,  not  as  a  burden,  but  as  a 
relief,  not  as  a  j^oke,  but  as  a  crown,  not  as  a  minimum  of  evil  sim- 
ply, but  as  a  maximum  of  privilege  and  good. 

"  The  conception  of  a  liturgy  in  the  true  sense,  as  compared  with 
our  reigning  unliturgical  and  free  worship,  is  the  conception  of  a 
real  emancipation  into  the  liberty'  of  the  children  of  God.  Argu- 
ment and  debate  here,  that  are  not  led  by  the  idea  of  worship  itself, 
but  turn  on  other  considerations  altogether,  whether  they  go  for  or 
against  a  liturgj^,  are  of  very  small  account;  just  as  little  worth, 
in  truth,  as  a  controversy  about  Art  to  those  who  have  never  felt 
what  Art  means,  and  for  whom  all  artistic  creations  are  alike  desti- 
tute of  inward  law  and  soul.  Worship,  like  Art,  has  a  life  and  na- 
ture of  its  own.  It  iuA'olves,  in  its  very  constitution,  certain  prin- 
ciples, elements,  and  rules,  which  must  be  understood  and  turned  to 
right  account,  to  make  it  complete.  Any  true  analysis  of  the  na- 
ture of  worship,  any  resolution  of  it  into  its  necessary  constituents 
and  conditions,  we  have  no  doubt  at  all,  must  bring  us  to  see  and 
feel  that  it  requires  a  liturgy;  and  that  a  A^ast  loss  is  suffered  where 
it  is  violently  forced  to  move  under  any  less  perfect  and  free  form. 
All  unliturgical  worship  is,  to  the  same  extent,  incomplete  and 
cumbersome.  Nature  itself  is  a  divine  liturgy  throughout.  The 
life  of  heaven  is  still  more  a  liturgy,  'like  the  sound  of  many 
waters,'  of  the  most  magnificent  and  sublime  order.  What  we 
need,  therefore,  in  our  present  movement,  is  the  full  sense  of  what 
worship  means  under  this  view  :  sympathy,  with  the  music  of  the 
spheres,  and  with  the  songs  of  the  angels ;  the  same  mind  that  led 


Chap.  XXXIX]       the  liturgical  movement  485 

the  early  Church  into  the  universal  use  of  liturgies,  without  oppo- 
sition or  contradiction  from  an^^  quarter,  so  far  as  history  shows." 

The  matter  of  a  liturgy,  thus  candidly  and  foirl}'  placed  before 
the  Church  for  consideration,  led  to  considerable  discussion,  more 
in  private  than  official  circles ;  in  the  former,  it  sometimes  came  as 
a  grim  spectre,  proposing  to  carry  the  Church  through  the  air  into 
the  Episcopal  fold  or  into  some  other  bod}^  still  more  dangerous. 
Two  valuable  contributions  to  existing  liturgical  literature  ap- 
peared in  the  Mercerdmrg  Review  during  the  3'ear  following:  the 
one  w'as  a  translation  of  the  "  Old  Palatinate  Liturgy  of  1563^''  by 
the  Rev.  Dr.  J.  H.  A.  Bomberger,  of  Easton,  Pa. ;  the  other,  a  trans- 
lation, by  Rev.  Dr.  B.  C.  Wolff,  of  several  chapters  on  Public  Wor- 
ship from  the  Introduction  of  Dr.  Ebrard's  '■'•  Reformirtes  Kirchen- 
6mc/i,"  which  had  just  been  published. — The  Committee  reported  to 
the  Synod  in  1850  through  Dr.  Nevin,  the  Chairman,  that  the^^  had 
not  deemed  it  expedient  to  go  forward  with  their  work,  and  ex- 
pressed some  doubt  whether  the  time  had  as  3'et  arrived  to  consider 
the  question  of  a  new  Liturgy.  Under  the  impression  that  the  fur- 
ther prosecution  of  the  work  might  lead  to  serious  complications 
in  the  Church,  if  not  its  division — as  was  affirmed  by  some — the 
Committee  recommended  that  the  S^nod  fall  back  on  the  old  Palat- 
inate Liturgy,  publish  it  with  some  modifications  for  the  use  of 
the  churches,  and  lay  aside  the  idea  of  a  new  Liturgy  for  the 
present.  The  report  was  received  with  due  respect,  but  notwith- 
standing its  discouraging  character,  the  Committee  was  continued 
and  instructed  by  the  Synod  to  go  forward  with  its  work. — Dr. 
Nevin  resigned  its  chairmanship,  but  continued  as  active  as  before 
in  the  capacity  of  a  member.  Dr.  Schaff  became  the  Chairman,  and 
with  his  usual  ardor  and  hopefulness  infused  new  life  and  courage 
into  the  liturgical  movement. 

During  the  j'ear  1851  the  Committee  made  little  or  no  progress 
in  the  work,  and  were  probably  as  yet  at  a  loss  to  know  exacth* 
what  kind  of  a  liturgy  should  be  presented  to  the  Church  for  adop- 
tion. Accordingly,  in  order  to  find  their  way  out  of  their  perplex- 
ing situation,  they  asked  for  more  definite  instructions  from  the 
S^niod  that  met  in  1852  in  Baltimore.  Through  the  Chairman,  Dr. 
Schaff,  the}'  proposed  a  plan,  making  provision  for  the  various  ser- 
vices or  offices,  which  are  generally'  comprehended  in  a  regular 
Liturg}^  in  the  proposed  sense  of  the  term.  They  included  a  full 
service  for  tlie  Lord's  Day.  and  Lessons  from  the  Scripture  to  be 
read  in  the  churches  throughout  the  3'ear.  In  the  next  place,  the 
principles  on  which  the  Committee  thought  the  Xew  Liturg3'  ought 


486  IN    RETIREMENT    EROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

to  be  constructed  were  set  forth  iii  the  report  without  reservation. 

"  The  liturgical  worship  of  the  Primitive  Church,"  it  said,  "as  far 
as  can  be  ascertained  from  the  Holy  Scriptures,  the  oldest  ecclesi- 
astical writers,  and  the  liturgies  of  the  Gi'eek  and  Latin  Churches 
of  the  third  and  fourth  centuries,  ought  to  be  made,  as  much  as 
possible,  the  general  basis  of  the  proposed  Liturgy;  the  more  so,  as 
the}'  in  fact  also  are  the  source  from  which  the  best  portions  of  the 
various  liturgies  of  the  sixteenth  century  were  derived,  such  as  the 
form  of  confession  and  absolution,  the  litanies,  the  creed,  the  Te 
Deum,  the  Gloria  in  Excelsis,  the  collects,  the  doxologies,  &c.  For, 
the  merit  of  the  Reformation  in  the  department  of  worship,  if  we 
except  hymnology,  did  not  consist  so  much  in  producing  new  forms 
of  devotion,  as  in  transferring  those  handed  down  from  former 
ages  into  the  vernacular  tongues,  in  purifying  them  from  certain 
additions,  in  reducing  them  to  greater  simplicitj-,  and  in  subordi- 
nating them  to  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel,  as  the  principal  part 
of  the  Protestant  worship. 

"If  the  principles,"  says  the  report,  "are  conscientiously  and 
wisely  carried  out,  it  is  hoped,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  a  Liturgy 
might  be  produced,  which  will  be  a  bond  of  union  both  ivith  the 
ancient  Catholic  Church  and  the  Beformation^  and  yet  be  ihe  pro- 
duct of  our  own  denomination  in  its  present  state.''^ — The  report,  em- 
bracing the  plan  and  the  summar}'  of  principles,  was  adopted  bj- 
the  Sjaiod  without  anj^  modifications,  and  its  closing  suggestions 
approved :  that  a  specimen  Liturgy,  for  the  inspection  of  the  Church 
should  be  printed,  as  soon  as  the  nature  of  the  work  would  admit. 

The  Committee,  now  clothed  with  ample  authority,  proceeded 
with  their  work  anxiously  and  thoughtfully,  making  a  gradual  prog- 
ress from  3'ear  to  3'ear,  until  at  the  meeting  of  the  S3  nod  of  Allen- 
town,  in  1857,  when  thej'  had  the  pleasure  of  reporting  that,  accord- 
ing to  its  request,  the}'  had  completed  and  published  a  Provisional 
Liturg}'  for  examination  or  optional  use  in  the  churches,  st^ded, 
A  Liturgy;  or  Order  of  Christian  Tro?-s/(/^9,  published  by  Lindsay 
&  Blakiston,  Philadelphia,  1857.  The  report  was  adopted  and  the 
Committee  thanked  in  very  flattering  terms  for  their  services  in  the 
preparation  of  the  work.  It  met  with  and  gained  an  extensive  cir- 
culation, a  third  edition  being  called  for  in  1858.  The  book  was 
read,  studied,  criticised  and  generall}-  received  with  favor  as  a  help 
for  l)oth  public  and  private  devotion. 

The  following  general  remarks  of  Dr.  SchafT  appeared  in  his  no- 
tice of  this  New  Liturgy  in  the  April  number  of  the  Mercersburg 
Review  for  the  year  1858 : 


Chap.  XXXIX]  the  new  liturgy  487 

"Next  to  the  Word  of  God,  which  stands  in  inapproachable 
majesty  far  above  all  human  creeds  and  confessions,  fathers  and 
reformers,  popes  and  councils,  there  are  no  religions  books  of 
greater  practical  importance  and  influence  than  catechisms,  hymn- 
books,  and  liturgies.  The3'  shape  the  moral  and  religious  senti- 
ments in  early  youth;  they  feed  the  devotions  in  old  age;  they  are 
the  faithful  companions  of  the  most  soleijin  hours  in  the  house  of 
God,  around  the  family  altar  and  in  the  silent  closet;  thej'  give 
utterance  to  the  deepest  emotions,  the  purest  thoughts,  the  highest 
aspirations;  the3'  urge  to  duty  and  every  good  work;  they  comfort 
in  affliction,  and  point  to  heaven  at  the  approach  of  death.  Even 
the  ripe  scholar  delights  to  return  from  time  to  time,  if  not  daih', 
to  the  first  question  of  his  Catechism,  or  a  familiar  verse,  or  the 
simple  Lord's  Prayer  and  Apostles'  Creed,  which  his  pious  mother 
taught  him  when  a  child,  on  his  knees,  and  derives  more  solid 
wisdom  and  substantial  comfort  from*  them  than  from  a  whole 
library  of  learned  volumes.  They  embody  his  earliest  and  his 
deepest  impressions;  the}-  remind  him  of  his  best  moments;  they 
are  his  sacred  things  'which  doubt  has  never  dimmed  and  contro- 
versy never  soiled;'  they  teach  him  his  'only  comfort  in  life  and  in 
death.'  Luther  did  more  good  b^'  his  little  Catechism  and  a  few 
hymns  than  by  all  his  twenty-four  large  quartos,  save  only  his 
translation  of  the  Book  of  books.  The  authors  of  the  Heidelberg 
and  the  Westminster  Catechisms  exerted  greater  influence  upon 
their  age  and  subsequent  generations,  than  all  the  schoolmen  of  the 
middle  age  by  their  subtle  commentaries  on  Aristotle  and  Peter 
the  Lombard.  The  author  of  the  simple  verse, '  Now  I  lay  me  down 
to  sleep,'  etc.,  was  one  of  the  greatest  benefactors  of  children,  and 
through  them  of  the  race. 

'"It  is  dillicult  to  sa}-  which  of  these  three  nurseries  of  the  Church 
occupies  the  first  rank.  National  and  denominational  dirtei'ences 
must  here  be  allowed  their  due  weight.  In  Protestant  Germany, 
which  produced  the  richest  hymnology  in  the  world,  and  still  ad- 
heres to  the  practice  of  congregational  singing  as  an  essential  ele- 
ment of  public  worship,  h3mns  have  a  power  and  influence  as  in  no 
other  land.  The  Presbyterian  and  Puritan  Churches  would  no 
doubt  at  once  give  the  Catechism  and  Confession  the  preference, 
and  look  upon  liturgies  with  suspicion  as  tending  to  formalism.  In 
the  Episcopal  Church,  the  ' Common  Prayer  Book'  has  probabh- 
done  more  to  keej)  her  together,  to  j)reserve  her  faith,  to  nourish  her 
piety,  to  attach  her  membership,  and  to  attract  a  certain  class  of 
foreign  material,  than  all   her  bishops,  priests  and  deacons.     The 


488  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-18G1  [DiV.  X 

best  state  of  things  would  perhaps  require  the  equal  excellency  and 
harmonious  co-operation  of  the  doctrinal  and  devotional  standards. 
But  we  know  of  no  denomination  which  may  claim  to  have  at  once 
the  best  catechism,  the  best  hymn-book  and  the  best  liturgy. 

"The  German  or  Evangelical  Reformed  Church  of  this  country 
has  undertaken  the  difficult  and  responsible  task  of  providing  for 
its  membership  a  new  Liturgy  or  Director}^  of  public  and  private 
worship.  She  did  not  seek  it,  but  was  providentially  prepared  for, 
and  led  into  it.  The  book  is  now  before  the  public,  but  simply  as 
an  experiment  and  for  provisional  use.  The  Committee  which  pre- 
pared it  have  no  wish  whatever  of  seeing  it  introduced  into  any 
congregation  without  their  free  and  full  consent.  All  they  ask  for 
their  work  is  a  fair  examination  and  trial.  In  their  final  report, 
the}^  requested  Sjaiod  not  to  take  any  action  at  present  either  for 
or  against  the  book.  Its  merits  or  defects  can  only  be  properly 
tested  by  practicnl  experience  in  the  family  and  the  Church.  It 
may  require  several  years  to  settle  the  question  of  its  adaptedness 
to  the  wants  of  the  denomination  for  whose  use  it  has  been  pre- 
pared. 

"  This  is  indeed  a  new  method  of  introducing  a  Liturgy,  and  its 
practicability  may  be  doubted.  But  if  it  be  wrong,  its  fault  lies 
not  in  the  Romanizing,  but  in  the  Protestant  direction,  and  should, 
therefore,  give  at  least  no  alarm  to  anybody  on  that  score.  It 
makes  full  account  of  the  general  priesthood  of  believers.  It  may 
be  called  a  Republican  and  even  a  Democratic  method,  or  an  appli- 
cation of  the  popular  sovereignty-principle  to  Church  movements. 
If  the  ministers  and  congregations  do  not  want  the  new  prayer 
book,  all  they  have  to  do  is,  to  vote  it  down,  and  either  to  refer  it 
back  to  the  old  committee  for  revision,  or  to  order  the  preparation 
of  a  new  liturg}^  on  a  different  plan,  or  to  drop  the  subject  alto- 
gether and  settle  iipon  the  exclusive  system  of  extemporaneous 
prayer  in  the  house  of  God  as  well  as  in  the  family. 

"  But  whatever  may  be  the  ultimate  fate  of  this  provisional  liturgy 
as  a  public  standard  of  worship,  it  has  some  significance  even  as  an 
experiment.  It  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  important  works  which 
the  German  Reformed  Church  has  attempted  in  this  country.  It 
represents  a  piece  of  her  present  spiritual  life.  It  forms  a  chapter 
of  her  inner  history  and  development.  It  is  the  practical  result  of 
a  theological  movement  which  has  agitated  her  for  a  number  of 
years  past.  It  may  have  considerable  influence  even  bej'ond  the 
pale  of  the  denomination  that  gave  it  birth.  For  this  liturgy, 
although  defective,  and  admitting  no  doubt  of  considerable  improve- 


ClIAP.  XXXIX]  THE    NEW    LITURGY  489 

ment,  is  ]\y  no  means  a  mere  compilation  or  patclnvork,  but  some-  if 
thing  of  an  organic  growth.  The  stones  are  old,  but  the  building 
itself  is  new.  The  book  has  a  life  and  spirit  of  its  own.  It  is  an 
American  product,  grown  up  on  American  soil  and  intended  for 
American  use.  It  is  at  least  an  earnest  effort  to  solve  the  vital 
question  of  the  best  mode  of  conducting  public  and  private  worship 
for  the  wants  of  the  present  age;  and  that  question  will  have  to  be 
met  sooner  or  later  In'  every  Protestant  denomination  of  this  great 
and  future-pregnant  country. 

"The  German  Reformed  Church,  like  all  the  Churches  of  the  Re- 
formation, was  originally  liturgical.  Zwingli,  Calvin,  Bucer,  and 
even  John  Knox,  as  well  as  Luther  and  Melanchthon,  Cranmer, 
Latimer  and  Ridle}',  were  all  in  favor  of  a  fixed  and  settled  order 
of  public  worship,  that  should  serve  as  a  guide  to  the  minister  and 
secure  decency',  dignity  and  harmon}'  to  the  exercises  of  the  sanc- 
tuary. Their  object  was  not  to  overthrow  but  to  purif)';  to  sim- 
plify and  to  adapt  the  ancient  devotional  forms  which  had  been 
handed  down  from  the  previous  life  of  the  Church ;  to  transfer  them 
from  the  Latin  into  the  vernacular  tongues;  and  to  enrich  .them 
with  new  forms  that  should  embody  and  perpetuate  the  peculiar 
spirit  of  evangelical  Protestantism.  Hence  the  great  number  of 
liturgies  and  sacred  hymns,  which  sprung  up  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury during  and  after  the  pentecostal  days  of  the  Reformation. 

"But  while  agreed  as  to  the  liturgical  principle  even  on  ordinary 
occasions,  the  Protestants  differed  from  the  beginning  as  to  the 
extent  to  which  it  should  be  carried.  The  Lutheran  and  the  Angli- 
can Churches  adhered  more  closely  to  the  traditional  Catholic  order 
of  worship, and  allowed  less  room  for  free  prayer  in  public  than  the 
Calvinistic  Churches.  A  few  extreme  branches  of  Calvinism, 
namely,  Prcsbyterianism  in  Scotland  and  Puritanism  in  England, 
with  their  large  offshoots  in  America,  during  the  seventeenth 
century  dropped  the  public  use  of  pra^'er-books  almost  entirely. 
This  can  be  easily  accounted  for  by  their  extreme  antagonism  to  j 
the  Church  of  England,  hy  the  unsatisfactory  character  of  Knox's 
Liturgy,  which  never  took  proper  root,  and  b}-  the  unwise  and  ty- 
rannical attempts  of  Archbishop  Laud  and  the  Stuarts  to  force  the 
Anglican  service  upon  the  reluctant  Scotch  nation.  In  the  course 
of  time  the  anti-liturgical  prejudices  have  in  these  ecclesiastical 
bodies  assumed  the  power  of  tradition,  which  it  is  very  difficult 
now  to  overcome,  especially  in  this  country.  But  we  have  no  room, 
here  to  enter  into  a  general  argument  in  favor  of  liturgies  against 
their  opponents. 
31 


490  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DlV.  X 

"The  Protestant  Churches  of  the  Continent  are  without  excep- 
tion liturgical  to  this  day,  and  make  use  of  prescribed  forms  in 
every  service  in  connection  with  more  or  less  extemporaneous 
pra3'er.  But  they  have  too  many  liturgies,  and  consequently  too 
little  unit}'  and  harmony  in  worship.  These  liturgies,  moreover, 
are  intended  as  guides  and  helps  simply  to  the  ministers,  and  not 
for  the  use  of  the  people,  like  the  catechism  and  hymn-book.  And 
yet  the  Protestant  doctrine  of  the  general  priesthood  of  believers 
should  lead  to  some  active  co-operation  of  the  congregation  with 
the  pastor  in  praying  as  well  as  in  singing.  Here  are  some  of  the 
reasons  wh}'  none  of  the  Continental  liturgies,  either  Lutheran  or 
Reformed,  has  been  able  to  take  verj-  deep  root  in  the  popular 
heart  and  to  prove  as  successful  as  the  Common  Prayer  Book. 
For  the  latter  is  truly  a  national  institution,  as  strong  and  power- 
ful as  Parliament  itself;  it  has  stood  the  test  of  three  hundred  3'ears 
without  serious  alteration  ;  it  is  now  as  popular  as  ever,  and  extends 
further  than  ever. 

"  The  German  branch  of  the  Reformed  Church  uses  a  considerable 
number  of  liturgies  in  Germany,  and  in  Switzerland  where  almost 
every  canton  has  one  of  its  own.  Some  of  them  are  excellent  in 
man}^  respects,  especially  those  which  date  in  whole  or  in  part  from 
the  sixteenth  century.  But  none  of  them,  not  even  the  old  Palat- 
inate Liturgy,  can  be  called  at  all  equal  in  depth,  fervor  and  power 
to  the  Heidelberg  Catechism.  None  of  them  combines  those  merits 
which  constitute  a  truly  popular  Church-book,  and  exempt  it  from 
the  necessity  of  a  revision  in  almost  CA'erj^  generation.  But  the 
same  holds  true  of  the  Lutheran  Church,  which  has  as  man}^  litur- 
gies in  German}'  as  Germany  has  independent  sovereignties. 

"  This  is  one  of  the  causes  of  the  unsatisfactory  liturgical  condi- 
tion of  the  German  Reformed  Church  in  America.  The  missionary 
fathers  of  the  last  century  brought  with  them  the  different  liturgies 
then  in  use  in  those  sections  of  Germany,  Switzerland  or  Holland 
from  which  the}'  emigrated.  None  of  them  ever  received,  as  far  as 
we  know,  the  exclusive  sanction  of  the  Synod.  Each  minister  was 
left  to  help  himself  as  well  as  he  could,  and  this  in  point  of  fact  is 
the  case  still.  The  Palatinate  Liturgy  was  used  more  extensively 
perhaps  than  any  other.  But  it  was  superseded  in  Germany  itself, 
and  never  republished  in  this  country.  Hence  only  a  few  copies  of 
the  original  are  to  be  found  even  in  East  Pennsylvania.  Several 
older  ministers  in  that  section  of  the  Church  have  manuscript  copies 
of  some  of  the  old  Palatinate  forms  and  use  them  to  this  day,  while 
a  few  others  prefer  the  German  translation  of  Dr.  Mayer's  Liturgy. 


ClIAP.  XXXIX]  THE    NEW   LITURGY  401 

In  addition  to  these,  there  are  in  use,  especiall}-  among  our  foreign 
German  congregations,  several  Swiss  Liturgies,  of  Berne,  Basel, 
Zurich,  Coire,  and  Ebrard's  Reformirtes  Kirchenbuch.  Such  a  di- 
versity and  arbitrary  freedom  in  public  worship  is  certainly  unde- 
sirable in  one  and  the  same  denomination  and  leads  to  confusion. 

"  In  the  course  of  the  present  century  our  Church  Avas  gradually 
anglicanized  and  in  the  same  proportion  also  presbyterianized  and 
puritanized  to  a  very  considerable  extent.  This  influence  showed 
itself  in  public  worship  by  the  gradual  introduction  of  the  free 
prayer-system  in  the  regular  services  of  the  Lord's  day.  It  grad- 
ually gained  the  ascendency'  and  prevails  now  almost  without  ex- 
ception in  our  English  congregations.  But  the  Church  never  pro- 
hibited, of  course,  the  use  of  liturgies  even  on  ordinary  Sundays, 
and  alwa3-s  adhered  to  the  liturgical  principle  for  all  special  occa- 
sions and  sacramental  transactions.  Here  the  same  loose  practice 
and  arl)itrary  freedom  have  prevailed  to  this  da3-,as  in  the  German 
congregations.  Some  use  the  translation  of  portions  of  the  Palati- 
nate liturgy  as  appended  to  the  hymn-book  of  the  Dutch  Reformed^ 
Church;  others.  Dr.  Mayer's;  others,  portions  of  the  Episcopal 
Common  Prayer  Book;  others,  prefer  to  compile  from  various 
sources  their  own  forms  for  the  sacramental  occasions,  for  confir- 
mation, marriage  and  the  burial  of  the  dead ;  while  still  others  go 
the  full  length  of  the  Puritan  principle  and  depend  altogether  upon 
their  individual  resources  and  the  inspiration  of  the  moment  for 
all  these  solemn  occasions. 

"This  is  the  state  of  things  which  the  Church  has  long  in  vain 
tried  to  correct  and  to  regulate.  For  the  last  thirt}'  or  forty  3'ears 
the  Synod  has  agitated  from  time  to  time  the  liturgical  question, 
with  the  view  to  do  away  with  this  loose  practice  and  to  introduce 
a  settled  and  uniform  system  of  public  worshi[),  both  in  the  Eng- 
lish and  (iernian  congregations  under  its  jurisdiction,  by  means  of 
a  liturgy  that  should  breathe  the  spirit  of  its  doctrinal  standard, 
the  Heidelberg  Catechism,  and  yet  be  adapted  in  arrangement  and 
style  to  the  wants  of  the  Church  at  the  present  day  and  in  this 
county  in  the  midst  of  Anglo-American  relations. 

''In  the  meantime,  since  the  3'ear  1844,  this  body  began  to  be 
strongly  agitated  by  a  theological  controversy  known  as  the  '  Mer- 
cersburg'  movement.  It  referred  to  the  Church  Question  under  its 
theoretical  and  practical  aspect.  It  commenced  with  the  discussion 
of  the  original  and  fundamental  princi[)les  of  Protestantism  in  its 
relations  to  Roman  Catholicism,  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  rational- 
ism and  sectarianism  on  the  other,  and  extended  gradually  over  a 


492  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

considerable  number  of  important  historical  and  doctrinal  topics, 
including  the  sacraments,  the  ministiy  and  the  nature  of  public 
worship.  It  led  to  serious  synodical  discussions  after  the  meeting 
at  York,  in  1845,  in  which  the  members  of  the  new  liturgical  Commit- 
tee have  in  part  occupied  very  different  ground.  As  this  movement 
is  not  yet  closed,  but  in  active,  though  more  silent  and  peaceful  prog- 
ress, it  would  be  premature  to  pass  a  final  judgment  on  its  merits. 
The  best  in  it  is  unquestionably  its  providential  character,  which 
justifies  the  hope  that  it  will  lead  ultimately  to  good  results,  in  and 
out  of  the  denomination  in  whose  bosom  it  was  first  started.  We 
are  here  merely  concerned  with  its  bearing  upon  the  New  Liturgy. 

"  The  Mercersburg  controversy  evidently  did  not  originate  the 
liturgical  movement  in  the  German  Reformed  body,  as  appears  from 
J  the  preceding  statement,  but  it  gave  it  a  new  impulse  and  direction, 
and  carried  it  to  a  practical  result  that  differed  very  widely  from 
what  was  originally  contemplated.  It  called  attention  to  the  litur- 
gies of  the  age  of  the  Reformation  and  of  the  primitive  Catholic 
Church,  which  had  been  almost  entirely  lost' sight  of  in  this  country, 
and  recommended  them  as  the  general  basis  on  which  the  new  work 
should  be  constructed.  It  placed,  moreover,  the  defense  of  litur- 
gical service  on  different  grounds.  It  viewed  it  not  simply  in  the 
light  of  convenience,  decency  and  propriety,  but  as  a  sacred  bond 
of  union  between  the  diflTerent  ages  of  Christ's  Church;  as  a  guar- 
antee against  excesses  of  arbitrary  freedom;  as  a  conservative  power 
in  doctrine  and  discipline;  as  the  organ  for  the  exercise  of  the  gen- 
eral priesthood;  and  as  the  artistic  form,  which  the  \exy  spirit  of 
social  worship  instinctively  assumes,  and  which  will  characterize 
even  the  worship  of  the  redeemed  in  heaven  as  a  complete  harmon v 
of  united  thanksgiving  and  praise. 

"  The  friends  of  that  system  deprecated  the  idea  of  a  liturgj^  that 
should  be  either  a  purely  subjective  and  narrow  denominational 
production,  or  a  mechanical  compilation  from  other  sources  without 
principle  and  vitality.  '  Such  a  book  would  hardly  deserve  the  name, 
and  not  be  worth  the  trouble  of  jireparation.  They  called  for  a  free 
reproduction  and  adaptation  of  the  time-honored  devotions  of  the 
purest  ages  to  our  particular  age  and  country.  In  one  word,  they 
desired  a  tvxAy  scriptural^  hintorical^  Evangelical  Catholic  and 
artistic  liturgy  for  the  p>eople  as  well  as  the  ministry.  Whether 
this  aim  be  at  all  attained  in  the  new  book,  is  an  altogether  different 
question.  For,  from  the  ideal  to  the  real,  from  theoiy  to  practice, 
there  is  more  than  one  step,  and  many  of  the  noblest  aims  of  mortal 
men  remain  jjm  desideria  in  this  world  of  imperfections." 


Chap.  XXXIX]  the  new  liturgy  493 

In  the  .irticle  iil ready  referred  to,  Dr.  Schaft'  gave  some  interest- 
ing reminiscences  of  the  labors  and  toils  underwent  by  the  Com- 
mittee in  completing  this  Liturg3',  which  we  here,  subjoin. 

"  The  scheme  and  general  principles  adopted  by  the  Baltimore 
S3'nod  were  conscientiously,  yet  not  pedantically^  adhered  to  by 
the  Committee  in  their  subsequent  labors,  as  will  appear  from  a 
comparison  of  the  report  with  the  book. — The  Committee  held  sev- 
eral meetings  more  than  were  originally  contemplated,  one  in  1856, 
four  in  1857.  Each  lasted  from  one  to  two  weeks.  The  number- 
of  the  morning,  afternoon  and  night  sessions,  as  I  learn  from  the 
Secretar}',  amounts  to  one  hundred  and  four,  exclusive  of  the  ses- 
sions of  the  Lancaster  and  Mercersburg  sub-committees,  and  those 
preceding  the  Sjnod  at  Baltimore,  The  first  four  of  these  gen- 
eral meetings  were  held  in  Lancaster  cit}',  owing  to  its  central  loca- 
tion and  its  being  the  residence  of  several  members  of  the  Com- 
mittee ;  the  last  was  held  in  Philadelphia,  in  the  midst  of  the  late 
financial  panic,  and  the  proof  was  read  as  the  book  passed  through 
the  hands  of  the  i)rinter.  The  members  will  not  easily  forget  the  ' 
old  foshioned  round  walnut  table  in  the  Consistory  Room  of  the 
First  Reformed  Church  at  Lancaster,  and  the  similar  table  in  the 
equally  comfortable  Consistorj'  Room  of  the  Race  Street  Church  in 
Philadelphia,  one  of  the  oldest  in  the  city  and  in  our  denomina- 
tion, where  once  Schlatter,  Ilendel,  Weiberg  and  other  missionary 
fathers  of  pious  memory  labored  in  their  generation.  The  Commit- 
tee sat  many  a  day,  pra^dng,  writing,  consulting  together,  criticising, 
examining  and  pondering  over  Bibles,  Concordances,  Liturgies,  old  i 
and  new,  from  the  Clementine  down  to  the  Irvingite,  and 
Over  many  a  quaint  and  curious  volume  of  forgotten  lore. 

"They  applied  the  pruning  knife  very  freely  to  their  own  pro- 
ductions and  laid  aside  whole  piles  of  manuscript.  Human  nature, 
unaided  by  divine  grace,  would  hardly  have  submitted  to  such  an 
unceremonious  process.  But  the  book,  I  am  sure,  is  only  the  better 
for  it.  Almost  evei'y  sentence  and  word  was  rigidly  examined  and 
measured.  Sometimes  interesting  theological  discussions  would 
spring  u[)  and  relieve  the  mind  of  the  weariness  of  minute  verbal 
criticism.  The  whole  was  a  capital  training  school,  and  if  the 
Committee  could  have  recommenced  their  labors  when  they  stopped, 
with  the  experience  they  had  acquired,  they  would  probably  have 
made  a  much  l)etter  book  than  the  one  now  published. — The  last 
meeting,  consisting  of  five  membei's,  was  held  Wednesday-,  October 
21, 1857,  at  Philadelphia,  and  closed  at  6  o'clock  p.  m.,  in  a  solemn 
manner  by  prayer  and  the  singing  of  a  doxology." 


CHAPTER  XXXX 

IN  1860,  three  years  after  the  pulilieation  of  the  Provisional  Lit- 
urgy, the  Committee  made  their  final  report  and  were  discharg- 
ed. The  new  work  was  in  circulation, accessible  to  all  alike, and  the 
•Synod  submitted  it  to  the  Classes  for  their  examination,  approval 
or  disapproval. — At  the  Synod  of  Easton  in  the  following  3'ear,  the 
Classes  reported  favorably  in  regard  to  its  merits,  its  general  plan 
and  reigning  spirit,  most  of  them  making  various  suggestions  ac- 
cording to  which  it  might  be  improved,  and  some  of  them  calling 
for  its  revision.  Thereupon  it  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  the 
original  Committee  for  its  final  revision,  and  the  principles  which 
were  to  guide  them  in  their  work  distinctly  stated.  They  were  in- 
structed to  consider  the  suggestions  of  the  Classes  as  given  in  the 
minutes  of  their  late  meetings,  "as  far  as  the  general  unity  of  the 
work  would  allow,  and  in  a  way  that  shall  not  be  inconsistent  either 
with  established  liturgical  principles  and  usages,  or  with  the  devo- 
tional and  doctrinal  genius  of  the  German  Reformed  Church." 

It  was  the  wish  of  the  Synod  that  the  Committee  should  com- 
plete the  revised  edition  of  the  Liturgy,  and  present  it  at  its  next 
annual  meeting,  if  possible,  with  the  view  of  bringing  this  devo- 
tional work  to  the  consummation  desired  by  the  Church  during  the 
Tercentenary  Commemoration  of  the  Heidelberg  Catechism,  to  be 
observed  b^-  the  Church  as  a  whole  during  the  year  1863. 

The  Provisional  Liturg}-  already  published  had  been  unanimously 
adopted  by  the  Committee,  but  when  the  question  of  revision  was 
brought  before  it,  there  was  a  diversity  of  opinion,  and  unexpected 
difficulties  sprang  up  in  regard  to  the  precise  nature  of  the  revision 
that  was  required.  It  was,  therefore,  thought  best  by  the  Com- 
mittee not  to  take  any  further  steps  in  the  matter,  until  the  mind 
of  the  Church  could  be  more  definitely  ascertained.  They  there- 
fore subaiitted  to  the  Synod  of  Chambersburg,  in  1862,  a  lengthy 
report,  published  in  pamphlet  form,  prepared  by  Dr.  Nevin,  discus- 
sing the  general  principles  of  liturgical  worship,  pointing  out  the 
difference  between  what  was  termed  an  Altar  and  Pulpit  Liturg}', 
and  presenting  the  case  very  candidly,  in  a  fair  and  honorable  man- 
ner, in  order  that  the  Synod  might  act  intelligently'  in  the  premises. 
The  report  of  a  small  minoritj^  was  read,  proposing  to  adopt  the 
Provisional  Liturgy,  ah'ead3'  published,  with  a  number  of  changes, 

(494)       • 


Chap.  XXXX]  the  rkvised  litirgy  495 

omissions  and  so  on,  which  were  specificall}-  pointed  out.  This  led 
to  a  very  animated  discussion,  which  continued  for  several  days, 
at  the  end  of  which  the  Synod  voted  down  the  proposition  to 
amend  or  expurgate  the  I'lovisional  liiturgy;  and  deeming  it  ad- 
visable to  give  the  Cliurch  still  fiirtluT  time  for  reflection,  decided 
l)y  a  large  majority,  that  the  optional  use  of  the  Liturgy  should  be 
continued  for  ten  years  from  the  time  of  its  publication,  and  that 
the  whole  qiu'stion  of  its  revision  should  ])e  postponed  for  the 
present. 

Thus  far  the  preparation  of  a  new  Liturgy  was  in  the  hands  of 
the  Eastern  S3'nod  of  the  Church  and  was  intended  more  partic- 
ularly to  meet  its  wants.  The  AVestern  or  Ohio  Synod  in  1852  had 
appointed  a  Committee  to  co-operate  with  the  Eastern  Committee 
in  the  preparation  of  a  suitable  Liturgy  for  the  use  of  the  entire 
Reformed  Church ;  and  at  Neriah,  Michigan,  in  1853,  it  approved 
of  the  "  Plan  and  Principles  '*  for  the  new  Liturgy,  proposed  by  Dr. 
Schaff  at  the  Synod  of  Baltimore  in  1852.  In  1854,  however,  at 
its  meeting  at  Greensburg,  Pa.,  it  dissolved  its  Committee,  and  de- 
cided that  the  Church,  as  a  whole,  did  not  then  seem  to  be  pi-epai-ed 
to  go  forward  cordially  with  this  important  w'ork.  Thus  the  move- 
ment came  to  be  confined,  princiiially,  to  the  Church  in  the  East. 
But  in  tlie  meantime  a  change  in  the  constitution  of  the  Church 
was  effected  by  uniting  the  different  particular  Synods  in  one  Gen- 
eral Synod,  and  through  it  the  Church,  as  a  whole,  Avas  brought  to 
confront  the  Liturgical  Question.  Had  it  been  left  in  the  hands  of 
those  who  were  its  originators,  it  would  have  been  solved  -with 
much  less  diflicult}-;  but  Providence  ordered  otherwise,  and,  in  the 
end,  it  was  better  that  the  whole  Church  itself  should  unite  in  set- 
tling peacefully  the  controversy  brought  upon  it. — At  the  first  meet- 
ing of  the  General  S3nod  at  Pittsburgh  in  1803,  a  recommendation 
was  sent  dowm  to  the  Eastern  Synod  to  go  forward  with  the  work 
of  revising  the  Liturgy,  according  to  its  own  judgment,  so  as  to  have 
the  work  completed  by  the  next  meeting  of  the  General  S^'nod  in 
1866.  Accordingly,  at  the  S3Miod  of  Lancaster  in  1804,  the  subject 
of  the  Liturgy  was  once  more  brought  before  it  for  consideration. 
It  complied  with  the  wish  of  the  higher  body,  and  reappointed  the 
old  Committee  to  revise  their  work,  and  to  report  the  result  of 
their  la])ors  to  the  Synod  before  the  next  meeting  of  the  General 
Synod,  so  that  it  might  be  revised  and  approved  before  it  was  sub- 
mitted to  that  body,  according  to  its  request. 

Under  such  encouragement,  acting  as  a  stimulus  or  spur,  the  Com- 
mittee went  to  work  again  in  good  earnest,  licld  many  meetings,  re- 


496  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

ceiving  or  rejecting  their  own  contributions  to  the  work,  using  the 
freest  and  sharpest  criticism,  and  had  it  finished  and  published  by 
the  time  the  S3'nod  met  at  York,  in  October,  1866.  The  word 
"  Liturgy  "  had  come  to  be  offensive  to  many  persons,  and  the  new 
book  was  simply  called  An  Order  of  Worship  for  the  Reformed 
Church.  Its  superior  merits  justified  the  expectations  of  its 
friends.  It  was  a  vast  improvement  in  all  respects  on  its  predeces- 
sor. The  defects  of  the  latter  had  been  pointed  out,  and  had  come 
to  be  felt  by  the  Committee  men  themselves,  no  doubt,  more  than 
by  any  one  else.  They  were,  therefore,  the  best  qualified  to  make 
all  the  needed  improvement  on  their  previous  work.  It  was  a  gem 
in  liturgical  literature,  a  near  approach,  to  say  the  least,  to  a  work 
of  art,  no  matter  what  might  be  its  future  destiny.  A  copy  of  the 
Order  of  Worship  was  presented  to  the  Synod  for  examination, 
whereupon  it  was  referred  to  a  committee  for  a  careful  examination. 
After  giving  a  brief  history  of  the  liturgical  movement  from  its  in- 
cipiency.  such  as  we  are  here  repeating,  the  report  thus  concludes : 

"The  instructions  given  to  the  Committee  from  time  to  time, 
after  much  diligent  labor  continued  for  the  last  two  j-ears,  embrac- 
ing fort3'-five  sessions  in  all,  have  been  carried  out,  and  as  a  result 
we  now  have  before  us  the  Revised  Liturgy,  printed  and  prepared 
for  the  examination  of  Sjnod.  The  work  bears  on  its  face  the  in- 
dications of  unwearied  patience  and  perseverance,  of  self-denying 
toil,  of  an  elevated  and  devotional  taste,  of  much  study  and  reflec- 
tion, and  an  undeniable  purpose  to  serve  the  Church  and  the  cause 
of  Christ.  It  is  questionable  whether  more  labor  and  earnestness 
of  purpose  have  ever  been  bestowed  on  an3^  similar  work,  in  Europe 
or  in  this  country'. 

"  From  the  history  of  the  progress  and  consummation  of  the 
work  before  us,  as  it  has  just  been  given,  the  Committee  are  of  the 
opinion,  that  the  Liturg^^,  which  is  now  presented  to  the  Church, 
is  fully  as  much  the  work  of  the  Synod  as  of  the  Committee.  It 
must  be  conceded,  we  think,  that  the  Committee  have  acted  with 
prudence,  and  respect  for  the  instructions  of  the  Synod  at  each 
step  they  have  undertaken  in  the  prosecution  of  their  labors,  and 
that  all  along  they  have  been  prompted  and  urged  forward  in  their 
work  by  the  special  action  of  the  Synod.  The  Liturg}^  is,  there- 
fore, the  legitimate  offspring  of  the  Synod.  Whether  it  will  ever 
come  into  general  use  in  our  congregations  or  not,  it  is  evident  that 
for  all  time  to  come,  it  will  be  a  monument  both  to  the  learning, 
ability,  piety,  and  devotion  of  its  authors  and  to  the  liturgical  idea, 
which  they  have  so  well  comprehended. 


Chap.  XXXX]  the  revised  liturgy  497 

"Tlie  revised  edition  just  pul)lislied,  and  now  reported  to  the 
Synod,  comes  recommended  to  us  as  an  improvement  on  its  prede- 
cessor. It  niiijht  be  presumed,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  amount 
of  labor  bestowed  on  the  revision,  and  the  experience  which  the 
Committee  were  enabled  to  bring  to  their  task,  that  tliis  sliould  be 
the  case.  Various  changes  have  been  made  in  it,  so  as  to  make  it 
more  suitable  for  use  in  divine  worship,  while  the  spirit,  aim,  and 
general  character  of  the  Provisional  Liturg}-,  have  been  retained," 

The  report  then  concluded  with  several  resolutions,  recommend- 
ing that  the  thanks  of  the  Synod  be  rendered  to  the  great  Head  of 
the  Church  that  this  work,  so  far  as  the  S3'nod  was  concerned,  was 
brought  to  a  termination;  that  its  thanks  be  tendei'ed  to  the  Com- 
mittee for  the  zeal,  ability  and  unrequited  toil,  which  they  had  dis- 
played in  the  prosecution  of  the  work,  from  the  beginning  to  the 
end;  that  the  lie  vised  Liturg}' be  referred  to  the  General  Synod 
for  action;  and  that  its  optional  use  be  allowed  within  the  limits 
of  the  Synod,  until  the  whole  question  should  be  finally  settled  by 
the  various  Classes  and  the  General  Synod,  according  to  the  Con- 
stitution of  the  Church.  The  report  elicited  considerable  discus- 
sion, and  aroused  a  deep  interest  in  the  community.  Here,  at  this 
S^'iiod,  the  war  against  the  Order  of  Worship  and  its  tendencies, 
extending  over  a  number  of  3'ears,  was  initiated,  which  on  the  whole 
proba})ly  did  it  more  good  than  harm.  Being  the  only  one  of  ten 
opposed  to  the  form  of  the  revision,  Dr.  Bomberger  had  witlidrawn 
from  the  Committee,  and  from  that  time  onward  he  fouglit  tlie  Or- 
der of  Worship  with  such  weapons  as  he  deemed  most  ertective. 
Ilis  speech  at  this  Synod  was  answered  b^'  Dr.  Harbaugh  in  his  own 
peculiar  st3de,  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  liturgical  men.  Dr.  Nevin 
and  other  members  present  did  not  deem  it  necessary  to  make  any 
extended  remarks  or  arguments,  as  the  matter  seemed  to  be  in  safe 
hands.  The  Synod  adopted  the  report  by  an  OA'erwhelming  majority'. 
— Much  interest  was  now  concentrated  in  the  approaching  meeting 
of  the  General  Synod  which  was  to  convene  at  Dayton,  Ohio,  dur- 
ing the  latter  part  of  the  following  month  of  November. 

After  the  Ohio  S^'nod  at  Greensburg,  in  1854,  had  decided  that 
the  Church  was  not  prepared  to  go  forward  in  the  formation  of  a 
new  liturgy,  a  liturgical  feeling  began  to  spring  up  among  some  of 
its  ministers,  whicli  could  not  be  sui)pressed  b}-  any  feeling  of  in- 
difference or  doubt  which  may  have  previously  prevailed.  In  1863, 
in  answer  to  its  request,  the  Generiil  Synod  at  Pittsburgh  granted 
it  permission  to  go  on  and  prejjnre  for  itself  a  new  Liturgy,  such 
as,  in  its  view,  might  suit  the  wants  of  the  Church,  recommend- 


498  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DlV.  X 

ing,  as  already  said,  that  the  Eastern  Synod  should  do  the  same 
thing  in  the  revision  of  its  Provisional  Liturgy-.  It  was  expected 
that  the  former  would  have  had  its  work  ready  for  examination  by 
the  time  the  general  body  was  to  meet  at  Dayton.  Its  Committee, 
however,  probably  found  it  a  more  difficult  undertaking  than  they 
had  imagined,  and  at  the  specified  time  thej'  were  simply  able  to 
report  progress.  But  they  had  developed,  to  some  extent,  their 
ideas  of  a  liturgy,  far  enough  to  make  it  manifest  that  it  differed 
materially  from  that  underlying  the  Order  of  Worship, and  it, there- 
fore, soon  became  evident  that  there  was  to  be  a  clash  of  ideas  at 
the  Dayton  meeting,  and  preparations  on  a  large  scale  were  made  for 
the  coming  event.  It  came,  moreover,  to  be  generall}"  understood 
that  it  was  not  simply-  two  liturgies  or  prayer-books  that  were  to 
be  brought  into  mortal  combat,  but  two  tendencies  involving  man^' 
questions  in  theology  or  conceptions  of  doctrines,  that  were  to  be 
discussed,  if  not  finally  settled.  Ideas,  in  fact,  probably  had  as 
much  to  do  in  this  controversy  as  the  mere  matter  of  forms,  new 
or  old. 

Under  this  view  of  the  case  there  was  no  small  amount  of  prepara- 
tion for  the  coming  conflict  in  the  highest  judicatory  of  the  Church. 
We  here  describe  briefly  the  prelude,  making  use  of  Dr.  Nevin's 
own  language  in  his  "Vindication  of  the  Revised  Liturgy,  His- 
torical and  Theological,"  published  in  1867. 

"  The  opposition,"  he  said,  "  had  been  at  work  for  some  time,  and 
it  was  now  prepared  to  go  to  work  and  accomplish  the  destruction 
of  the  young  child's  life,  as  if  it  could  be  satisfied  with  nothing  less. 
Although  it  had  been  declared  all  along  that  it  was  such  an  order 
of  worship  as  the  people  did  not  want,  and  never  could  be  brought 
to  receive  with  any  kind  of  favor,  yet  when  it  barel}'  asked  permis- 
sion to  live,  and  nothing  more,  it  became  evident  that  even  such  a 
boon  would  be  regarded  as  unsafe.  Who  could  tell  what  power 
might  be  slumbering  in  that  gentle,  peaceful  form?  And  so  the 
fiat  went  forth  not  altogether  openly,  but,  as  it  were,  in  secret: 
'Let  the  Liturg}^  die,  before  it  is  well-born;  let  it  pass  away  as  an 
untimely  birth,  and  become  thus  as  though  it  had  never  been.' 
Efforts  were  made  in  the  East  to  persuade  the  Church  in  the  West 
that  all  things  were  going  wrong  in  the  Eastern  Synod,  both  theo- 
logically and  ecclesiastically;  and  that  the  salvation  of  the  Gei'man 
Reformed  church  in  this  countiy  now  depended  on  the  rising  star 
of  empire  in  the  Synod  of  Ohio  and  the  Adjacent  States,  Those 
who  had  been  worsted  over  and  over  again  in  their  anti-liturgical 
conflicts  in  the  East,  claimed  to  be  the  reigning  power  among  the 


Chap.  XXXX]  the  revised  litlroy  490 

lioople,  and  it,  therefore,  allbrded  them  great  satisfaction  now  to 
think  of  joining  hands  with  the  Ultramontanese  brethren  at  Day- 
ton, ill  a  swelling  wave,  once  and  forever  to  roll  olf  from  the  Re- 
formed Cluirch  the  reproach  now  resting  upon  it  from  the  liturgical 
movement.  In  these  circumstances  Dr.  Bomberger  and  his  friends 
acted  vigorously  and  adroitly,  if  not  wisely,  and  they  spared  no 
pains  to  win  the  game.  His  tract  on  the  "Ritualistic  ^lovement  ' 
was  got  up  with  great  speed  after  the  Synod  of  York,  and  circulated 
far  and  wide  before  the  great  assembly  met  at  Dayton.  The  west- 
ern i)aper — the  3Iissi()iiari/ — set  itself  to  Avork  to  sounding  contin- 
uous alarms  ou  the  same  theme.  Dark,  ominous,  bad-sounding 
words,  were  made  to  fall  on  all  sides  upon  the  ears  of  the  people. 
Appeals  were  addressed  to  their  prejudices  and  fears  rather  than 
to  their  reason  and  common  sense.  All  was  done  here,  as  at  York 
in  184.5,  to  influence  the  jury  before  it  heard  the  evidence,  so  that 
the  Order  of  Worship  might  be  prejudged  and  condemned,  before 
it  was  seen  or  read. 

"  We  all  felt  this,  when  Ave  got  to  Dayton.  There  was  an  element 
at  work  around  us,  that  boded  no  good,  but*  harm  only  to  the  New 
Liturg}'  or  Order.  The  opposition  to  it  was  strong;  and  it  was 
called  to  give  account  of  itself  at  Avhat  was,  in  one  sense  at  least, 
a  foreign  bar.  The  Western  delegation  was  full :  the  delegation 
from  the  East,  especially  in  the  case  of  the  Elders,  was  only  par- 
tially present.  It  was  i)ainfully  evident,  moreover,  that  the  West- 
ern delegation  itself  had  no  powei*,  as  matters  stood  in  the  West, 
to  be  entirelv  iiidei)end{'nt  and  free.  Men  could  not  vote  in  all 
cases  as  the}'  might  wish  ;  but  had  to  do  it,  in  some  cases  at  least, 
as  thej'  must.^'' — The  liturgical  plant,  that  had  commenced  to  bud 
at  Xeriah,  Michigan,  in  1853,  had  been  suppressed,  and  another  had 
sprung  up  and  taken  its  place.  The  Synod  of  Ohio  was  no  longer 
under  the  conservative  influence  of  the  men  of  1853. 

In  the  regular  order  of  business  the  Liturgical  Question  came 
up  for  consideration,  Avhereupon  it  was  referred  to  a  committee  of 
nine,  fairly  representing  the  different  parts  of  the  Church  in  their 
numerical  strength.  There  was,  as  might  be  expected,  a  majority 
and  a  minority  report.  The  former  was  brief,  and  simply  recom- 
mended that  the  Western  Synod,  in  conformity  with  its  OAvn  wish, 
be  authorized  to  continue  its  labors  in  preparing  its  OAvn  Liturgy; 
that  the  Revised  Liturgy  should  be  allowed  to  be  used  as  a  proper 
order  of  worship  in  the  congregations  and  families  of  the  Reformed 
Church;  and  that  it  should  be  understood  that  this  action  was  not 
designed  to  interfere  in  anv  wav  with  the  freedom  of  ministers  or 


500  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

congregations  who  might  not  be  prepared  to  use  tlie  Liturgy  in 
whole  or  in  part.— This  report  was  based  on  the  fact  that  the 
Western  Synod  had  not  3^et  finished  its  liturgical  work,  which,  in 
the  nature  of  the  case,  precluded  the  possibility  of  referring  the 
subject  to  the  Classes  at  the  time;  and  it  was  moreover  deemed 
desirable  that  the  liturgical  movement  in  the  Reformed  Church 
should  be  left  to  work  out  its  legitimate  results  in  a  free  and  un- 
trammeled  way. 

The  minority  report,  on  the  other  hand,  was  much  more  lengthy 
and  suggestive.  It  stated  the  various  objections  to  the  Order  of 
Worship  in  detail,  which,  as  the}^  had  been  advanced  repeatedly 
in  other  places,  and  were  brought  to  the  Synod  on  something  like 
a  special  train  by  an  avant-courier,  in  the  tract  on  the  "  Ritualistic 
Movement,"  it  will  be  proper  here  once  for  all  to  give  them  a  place, 
— not  omitting  italics,  without  note  or  comment — and  only  slightly 
abbreviated.  The  report  affirms  that  the  Revised  Liturg}^  amount- 
ed, in  fact,  to  a  fundo/mental  revolution  in  the  order  of  worship  in 
the  Reformed  Church  during  the  whole  period  of  its  existence  in 
America  : 

That  it  is  not  in  accordance  wnth  the  original  character  and  ge- 
nini^  of  the  Reformed  Church,  according  to  the  Palatinate  and 
other  Reformed  Liturgies  of  the  sixteenth  century ; 

That  it  is  not  in  accord  with  the  historical  tradition  of  the  Re- 
formed Church; 

That  it  is  not  in  accordance  with  the  present  circumstances  and 
needs  of  the  Reformed  Church; 

That  there  is  little  prospect  of  its  successful  introduction  into 
most  of  the  churches,  and  that  the  persistent  attempt  to  introduce 
it  will  only  issue  in  failure  in  the  end; 

That  it  will  be  the  cause  of  loss,  strife,  division  and  schism  in 
our  congregations; 

That  its  tendenc}^  will  be  gradually  to  merge  a  large  portion  of 
the  Church  in  another  denomination; 

That  it  will  tend  to  unsettle  the  foundations  of  the  Church  in  re- 
gard to  church  government ; 

That  it  will  tend  to  unsettle  our  beloved  Zion  in  respect  to  its 
established  doctrines ; 

That  it  is  believed  that  it  contains  doctrines,  which  are  decidedly 
not  in  accordance  with  the  doctrines  of  our  Confession  of  Faith, 
the  Heidelberg  Catechism ; 

That  it  will  ultimately,  if  not  at  once,  infringe  upon  the  Christian 
libert}^  of  ministers  and  people; 


Chap.  XXXX]  the  revised  liturgy  501 

Thnt  it  will  separate  us  more  and  more  from  sister  denominn- 
tions,  most  closely  allied  to  us,  with  whom  we  _yearn  for  a  closer 
union ; 

That  it  does  not  pay  due  respect  to  the  German  Reformed  Church 
of  the  past,  the  ''mother  of  us  all;" 

That  the  system  of  worship  it  seeks  to  introduce,  however  beau- 
tiful in  itself,  and  well  adapted,  in  some  cases,  to  intelligent  and 
educated  congregations,  is  wholly  unsuited  to  the  great  bodv  of 
plain  people; 

And  finally,  that  its  influence  upon  ministers  and  people,  on  mis- 
sions, on  the  increase  of  ministers,  on  church  extension,  on  charity 
among  ourselves,  and  the  work  of  grace  in  the  hearts  of  our  people, 
will  be  of  doubtful  benefit. 

After  these  accusations  had  been  made — specifications  duly  filed 
— this  minority  report  offered  several  resolutions  :  one  to  the  effect 
that  for  reasons  stated  the  S3^nod  could  not  give  the  Order  of  Wor- 
ship its  ap{)roval ;  the  other  was  that  it,  with  the  Western  Liturgy, 
should  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  a  Committee  as  material  for  the 
construction  of  a  new  Liturgy  that  should  be  in  harmoii}-  with  the 
doctrinal  and  devotional  principles  of  the  Reformed  Church,  and 
that  its  general  basis  should  l)e — most  probably  the  general  basis 
of  the  Western  Liturgy, — so  far  as  it  had  then  arisen  out  of  chaos. 

This  report  being  offered  as  a  substitute  for  the  report  of  the 
majority,  the  great  debate,  attracting  vast  crowds  of  people,  be- 
gan on  Tnesda^^  afternoon  and  continued  until  Thursday-,  ending  at 
five  o'clock  p.  m.  In  the  evening,  after  half  an  hour  spent  in 
devotional  services,  consisting  of  singing  and  pra3'er,  the  Synod 
proceeded  to  vote  by  yeas  and  na3's.  The  so-called  amendment 
was  lost  and  the  report  of  the  majority  was  carried  by  a  majority  • 
of  seven  votes.  All  the  ministers  from  the  Eastern  Synod  voted 
with  tlie  majority  except  five  or  six,  and  the  same  was  true  of 
the  Elders.  The  Western  delegates,  with  few  or  no  exceptions, 
voted  in  the  negative.  Had  the  delegates,  Ministers  and  Elders  y 
from  sleepy  Pennsylvania  been  as  wide  awake  as  their  brethren  in 
the  West,  they  would  have  carried  the  day  by  a  much  larger  ma- 
jority. 

The  discussion  took  a  wide  range,  covering  all  the  points  in- 
cluded in  the  bill  of  impeachment  of  the  Order  of  Worship,  and 
more  too,  including  earnest  disquisitions  on  many  vital  points  in 
theology  :  was  listened  to  with  profound  attention  b}-  the  Synod 
and  crowds  of  outsiders  ;  and  to  intelligent  listeners,  who  could 
make  allowance  for  the  Babies  Theologica, which  too  often  rages  on 


502  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

such  occasions,  it  must  have  been  instructive  and  edifying  in  the 
highest  degree.  In  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  Dr.  Nevin  be- 
came the  central  figure,  as  his  fame  had  preceded  him.  His  form 
was  still  as  erect  as  when  he  stood  up  before  a  similar  audience 
twent3-one  3'ears  before,  at  York,  Pa.,  his  voice  just  as  firm,  his 
intellect,  if  an3'thing,  more  vigorous,  but  his  head  was  now  covered 
•with  the  winter  of  jears,  a  venerable  sage,  whose  presence  in  any 
assemblage,  even  the  highest,  would  have  arrested  immediate  atten- 
tion. Those  who  differed  from  him  in  his  churchly  tendencies,  and 
looked  upon  them  with  more  or  less  suspicion,  especiall}-  foreign 
born  Germans,  paid  him  involuntaiy  reverence  and  respect.  His 
argument,  liturgical,  historical,  and  theological,  mostly  defensive, 
occupying  two  sessions  of  the  Synod,  forenoon  and  afternoon,  was 
exhaustive,  covered  the  ground  of  a  theological  treatise,  and  was 
stimulating  as  well  as  suggestive  to  all  who  listened  to  it.  A  west- 
ern member  occasionalh'  interrupted  him  by  asking  him  annoying 
questions,  and  was  answered  so  appropriateh',  that  a  distinguished 
militaiy  officer  present.  General  McCook,  whispered  to  a  friend 
at  his  side,  that  "  he  had  better  retreat  and  get  into  his  bomb- 
proof." He,  and  others  like  him,  somewhat  captious,  did  thus  re- 
treat, as  the  thunder  of  theological  artillery-  exploded  over  their 
heads. 

The  result  of  the  long  discussion  at  Dayton  was  highly  satisfac- 
tory to  Dr.  Nevin,  for  which  he  thanked  God  and  took  courage. 
Most  probably  it  was  now  for  the  first  time  that  he  began  to  see 
that  his  own  labor,  with  that  of  his  colleagues  on  the  Committe?, 
was  destined  to  bear  positive  fruit.  It  will  be  remembered  that  in 
1850,  he  did  not  consider  it  expedient  to  go  forward  and  make  an 
attempt  to  prepare  a  new  liturgy,  and  recommended  a  translation  of 
the  old  Liturgy  of  the  Palatinate  for  the  use  of  the  churches.  At 
the  Synod  of  Lancaster  in  1851,  he  says  in  his  Vindication,  "the 
Committee  had  come  to  despair  very  much  of  their  being  able  to 
produce  an}^  liturgy,  that  would  prove  generally  and  permanently 
satisfactory  to  the  Church.  This  was  especially  mj^  own  feeling. 
I  had  not  led  the  way  at  all  in  the  movement;  my  heart  was  not  in 
it  with  any  special  zeal ;  I  was  concerned  with  it  only  in  obedience 
to  the  appointment  of  Synod ;  other  interests  appeared  to  me  at 
the  time  to  be  of  more  serious  account;  and  I  had  no  faith  in  our 
being  able  to  bring  the  work  to  any  ultimate  success.  In  these  cir- 
cumstances, I  was  not  willing  to  stand  charged  with  the  responsi- 
bility of  continuing  Chairman  of  the  Committee;  and  accordingly  I 
asked  the  Synod  to  relieve  me  from  this  position  on  the  Committee, 


Chap.  XXXX]  the  revised  liturgy  503 

with  the  understanding  that  I  would  be  willing  to  net  with  it  still 
in  a  subordinate  character.  The  request  was  granted,  and  Dr. 
Schaff  was  made  Chairman  in  m^'  place. 

"Dr.  Schaff  went  to  work  in  earnest,  and  set  the  rest  of  us  to 
work  also,  in  jjreparing  new  forms.  Tie  had  faith  in  the  move- 
ment, but  as  for  myself,  I  confess  I  had  almost  none.  Still  I  tried 
to  do  my  share  of  service,  and  spent  hours  in  what  was  found  to 
be  generally  a  tedious  and  irksome  task.  The  work  necessarily 
involved  liturgical  studies;  and  these  l»rought  with  them  a  growing 
liturgical  culture,  which  required  an  enlargement  of  the  range 
within  which  it  was  i)roposed,  originally,  to  confine  the  course  of 
the  movement. 

"Three  years  now  passed,  the  Committee  working,  but  not  with 
any  comfortable  feeling  of  success.  There  was  an  accumulation  of 
material  which  brought  no  light  or  order  in  the  work  of  construc- 
tion. Much  that  was  done  was  afterwards  felt  to  be  unsatisfactory. 
One  great  difficulty  was,  that  the  work  seemed  continuall}'  to  un- 
settle and  destroy  itself.  What  was  done  would  not  staj-  done, 
but  all  had  to  be  done  over  again.  The  hard  road  of  the  Commit- 
tee led  them  through  a  wreck  of  matter  and  a  crush  of  forms,  until 
their  wonder  was  that  they  had  left  the  green  pastures  of  ignorance 
and  the  quiet  waters  of  tradition,  when  they  had  first  been  put  to 
the  working  out  of  their  task.'' 

In  1857,  after  the  Provisional  Liturgy  was  published,  Dr.  Xevin 
experienced  a  feeling  of  relief,  but  he  was  not  much  hopeful  as  to 
the  success  of  the  work.  "  I  had  no  expectation  myself,"  he  says, 
"that  the  Avork  would  be  generally  adopted.  It  was  not  fitted  for 
eas}-  and  smooth  practice;  it  seemed  to  be  too  great  a  change  for 
our  churches;  and  the  very  fact  of  its  being  an  experiment,  stood  in 
the  way  of  any  general  serious  effort  to  bring  it  into  use.  Still  I 
did  feel  that  the  labors  of  the  Committee  had  not  been  thrown  aw'ay. 
The  work  had  its  literary  value.  It  might  do  good  service  educa- 
tionally. It  was  a  relief,  at  all  events,  to  feel  that  with  it  we  had 
reached  a  decent  end  for  our  long,  weary  pilgrimage  in  search  of  a 
Liturg}-;  for  there  was  no  reason  to  think  we  could  now  reach  our 
object  in  an}-  other  way.  The  Church  might  not  be  prepared  at  all 
for  this  new  order  of  worship;  but  it  was  just  as  clear,  that  she 
coidd  not  now  be  satisfied  with  an}-  such  book  of  forms  as  was 
thought  of  in  tlie  beginning.  We  were  beyond  that.  We  had  got 
into  the  wilderness  together;  and  the  best  thing  we  could  do,  as  it 
seemed,  was  to  make  up  our  minds  now  to  stay  there  for  forty 
years  at  least,  leaving  it  for  the  next  generation  to  get  up  their 


504  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

own  Liturgy,  should  they  think  proper,  in  a  v>ay  to  please  them- 
selves. That  was  about  the  feeling  in  which  I  had  come  to  settle 
comfortahl}'  in  regard  to  the  Avhole  matter;  and  it  gave  me  an}-- 
thing  but  pleasure  to  be  rudely  jostled  out  of  it,  a  few  years  later, 
b}'  the  cry  that  was  made  for  a  Be  vision.''^ 

The  Liturgy  of  1857  met  with  an  extensive  circulation,  and, 
with  the  exception  of  the  forms  for  the  Lord's  Supper,  and  the 
Lord's  Day,  was  in  general  use  among  the  ministers  in  the  East. 
At  the  .same  time,  moreover,  "it  was  wonderful  to  see,"  as  Dr. 
Nevin  says,  "how  it  worked  as  a  silent  influence  among  us, in  favor 
of  sound  ideas  on  the  subject  of  Christian  worship.  It  wrought  a 
change,  far  and  wide,  in  the  spirit  and  form  of  the  sanctuary  ser- 
vices. It  served  to  deepen  among  us  the  power  of  the  liturgical 
movement,  which  had  given  it  birth.  It  became  more  and  more 
apparent  that  this  movement  could  not  be  turned  back ;  could  not 
be  arrested,  and  made  to  stand  still.  Its  only  redemption  and  de- 
liverance lay  in  going  forward." 

And  yet  when  the  S3'nod  of  Easton  in  1861  placed  the  Liturgy- 
in  the  hands  of  the  original  committee  for  revision,  he  preferred  to 
remain  in  the  "  wilderness,"  and  let  the  "  next  generation  "  come 
and  enter  the  promised  land.  "Many  will  remember,"  he  sa3^s, 
"how  earnestly  I  tried,  at  this  time,  to  have  m}'  own  name,  at  least, 
dropped  from  this  new  commission.  I  told  the  Synod  that  I  had 
no  faith  in  the  undertaking;  that  I  did  not  think  the  Church  was 
prepared  to  receive  the  Liturgy  in  any  form  we  could  give  it;  that 
I  knew  the  proposed  work  would  involve  more  than  the  slight 
changes  some  talked  of;  that  I  was  sure  the  Committee  would  not 
be  able  to  get  forward  now  with  full  agreement;  that  there  was  no 
reason  then  to  expect  that  the  Church  generally  would  be  satisfied 
with  what  was  done;  that  in  these  circumstances  the  service  ap- 
peared to  me  a  thankless  waste  of  labor  and  time;  that  I  had  no 
heart  for  it,  and  could  take  no  part  in  it  with  any  animation  or  zeal ; 
and  that  my  want  of  spirit  in  this  way  would  make  me  a  dead 
weight  only  on  the  cause  I  was  expected  to  serve.  All  this  I  urged ; 
and  fairly  begged,  over  and  over  again,  to  be  excused  from  the  ap- 
pointment. But  the  Synod  would  not  hearken  to  my  prayer.  The 
old  Committee  must  serve,  and  I  must  serve  with  it." — Of  course  this 
was  earnest  and  sincere  language;  and  it  effectually'  precludes  the 
idea,  advanced  in  certain  quarters,  that  Dr.  Nevin,  during  either  this 
period  or  subsequently,  was  acting  a  part  in  trying  to  foist  a  liturgy 
on  the  Church  which  it  did  not  want.  Here  as  elsewhere  through- 
out his  life,  he  was  honest,  truthful  and  straightforward.     It  was 


Chap.  XXXX]  the  iikviskd  mturgy  505 

indeed  characteristic  of  him  generally  not  to  engage  in  any  serious 
work  for  the  Church  except  as  he  came  in  some  sense  to  be  pi-eased 
into  it.  Then  he  felt  assured  that  he  was  guided  and  directed  b}- 
the  hand  of  Providence.  He  was  slow  to  propose  measures,  or  to 
appear  as  an  ostensible  leader,  but  when  once  impressed,  as  it  were, 
into  a  service  by  the  prayers  of  those  whose  judgment  he  felt  bound 
to  respect,  he  was  sure  to  become  the  actual  leader  and  to  perform 
the  hardest  part  of  the  work. 

Disposed  as  he  was  at  times  from  his  natural  constitution  to  look 
unduly  at  the  dark  side  of  things,  the  action  of  the  Church  at  Day- 
ton, in  18()0,  revived  his  courage,  his  faith  and  hope,  and  for  the 
lirst  time  he  began  to  see  in  the  liturgical  movement  some  rays  of 
daAlight — some  prospect  that  the  protracted  labors  of  the  Litur- 
gical Committee  were  not  destined  to  be  in  vain  in  the  Lord.  At 
an  age  when  our  military  officers  are  regarded  in  this  country  as 
having  already  passed  beyond  their  period  of  active  service,  he  was 
now  simply  at  the  meridian  of  his  intellectual  strength  and  seemed 
to  give  indication  of  rejuvenescence. 

"In  the  circumstances,-'  we  quote  again  from  his  Vindication, 
••  which  have  been  described,  it  was  a  great  victor}'  that  was  wrought 
in  favor  of  this  cause  at  Dayton;  far  beyond  all  that  it  might  ap- 
pear to  be  to  superficial  observation.  The  vote  in  its  favor  meant  a 
great  deal  more  than  the  ditterence  simply  of  the  3'eas  and  na3's  re- 
corded in  it ;  and  the  enemies  of  the  Liturgy  knew  the  same  thing. 
The  true  significance  of  the  vote  lies  in  the  fact,  that  it  was  a  strug- 
gle of  the  East  to  save  its  own  cause  here,  against  an  organized  op- 
position which  sought,  by  help  of  the  West,  to  destroy  it — a  struggle, 
at  the  same  time,  which  had  to  be  maintained  on  Western  ground. 
In  this  character,  the  stand  made  in  favor  of  the  Liturgy  was 
powerfully  felt  in  the  West  itself.  There  was  a  moral  superiority 
gained  by  the  argnmcnl  in  its  l)ehalf,  which  told  ui)on  the  General 
Synod  and  upon  the  outside  community  with  far  wider  and  deeper 
effect  than  any  counting  of  votes,  which  has  been  working  for  good 
ever  since,  and  which  will  continue  to  work  for  good  still,  through 
a  long  time  to  come.  But  more  than  all  this,  was  the  wa}-  the  con- 
tlict  served  to  bring  out  the  thought  and  feeling  of  the  Eastern 
Synod  in  regard  to  the  great  interest  which  was  here  at  stake,  and 
to  show  clearly  where  it  stood,  and  intended  to  stand,  on  the  issue 
which  had  been  raised  concerning  it. — It  was  properly  an  Eastern 
(juestion  tliat  was  to  be  decided.  The  Liturgy  belonged  properly 
to  the  Eastern  Synod;  was  the  child  of  the  Eastern  Synod;  had 
its  home  in  the  Eastern  Synod  ;  and  liy  the  judgment  of  the  East-- 
32 


506  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

ern  S^'iiod  it  was  destined  finally  to  stand  or  fall.  In  this  view,  as 
all  may  easily  see,  the  vote  was  an  overwhelming  decision  in  its 
favor. — -Onr  Eastern  Eldership,  after  all  the  attempts  which  had 
been  made  to  alarm  their  fears,  and  set  them  in  array  against  their 
ministers,  went  almost  in  a  body  in  favor  of  the  Liturgy.  Shall 
we  hear  anything  more  of  a  want  of  sympathy  and  good  under- 
standing between  the  S3niod  and  its  Committee  on  this  subject? 

"What  has  just  been  said  does  not  mean,  of  course,  that  the 
Revised  Liturgy  has  been  endorsed  and  ratified,  in  form,  by  what 
was  done  at  Dayton.  The  vote  there,  we  all  know;  was  not  in- 
tended to  do  an^'thing  of  that  sort.  The  time  for  an3'thing  of  the 
kind  had  not  come.  The  vote  simply  meant  that  the  Liturgy 
should  have  fair  play  ;  that  as  a  work  of  art,  it  should  not  be  sub- 
jected to  the  vandalism  of  being  made  so  much  raw  material  merely 
for  the  manufacture  of  another — not  of  art ;  and  that  after  having 
been  brought,  through  long  years  of  learned  and  laborious  prepa- 
ration, under  the  eye  and  ordering  hand  of  the  Synod,  to  the  per- 
fect working  form  it  had  now  reached,  it  should  not  be  kicked  to 
the  one  side  by  siich  as  knew  nothing  about  it;  but  should  have, at 
least,  an  opportunity-  of  coming  before  the  people,  to  be  tried  by 
them  on  its  own  merits.  This  was  what  the  action  at  Dayton 
meant;  nothing  more.  But  this,  in  the  circumstances,  was  much. 
Nobly  has  it  served  to  redeem  the  honor  of  the  Eastern  Synod, 
and  to  vindicate  the  good  name  of  its  grossly  slandered  Liturgical 
Committee. 

"  So  much  for  the  historical  defence  of  the  Liturgy.  How  far 
the  work  itself,  in  the  form  in  which  it  is  now  before  the  public, 
may  prove  satisfactor}-  to  the  Church,  remains  yet  to  be  seen.  The 
Committee,  with  its  friends  generally,  are  quite  willing  to  leave  the 
settlement  of  that  question  where  it  properly  belongs,  with  the 
people.  Our  appointed  service  is  done;  done  faithfulh', and  to  the 
best  of  our  ability.  We  have  got  out,  at  last,  what  we  believe  to 
be  a  good  Liturgy,  in  good  working  order  ;  and  room  is  now  made 
for  its  being  put  to  practical  experiment  among  our  Churches.  If 
they  find  it  to  be  what  the}'  want,  and  are  willing  to  make  use  of 
it,  either  in  whole  or  in  part,  it  will  be  well.  If  they  find  it  other- 
wise, and  do  not  choose  to  adopt  it,  that  will  be  all  well  too  ;  no- 
body will  have  any  reason  to  complain ;  the  thing  will  have  taken 
its  right  course,  and  come  to  its  conclusion  in  a  fair  and  right  way. 
That  is  all  that  is  wanted  or  wished. — If  it  cannot  bear  to  have  its 
merits  fairly  and  honestly  investigated  in  this  way,  it  ought  not  to 
expect  favor.    It  courts  enlightened  criticism." — The  moral  victory 


A 


Chap.  XXXX]  an  era  of  coi\trovkr.sy  507 

at  Da3'ton  was  an  important  one,  but  like  that  at  Antietam  or  Get- 
tysburg it  did  not  end  tlie  liturgical  war,  which  must  continue  for 
some  years  more  until  the  real  strength  of  the  liturgical  sentiment 
could  be  brought  out  and  tested  on  one  more  field  of  battle. 

The  Eklers  who  supi)orted  the  Liturgy,  believing  that  the  tract 
entitled  "A  History  and  Criticism  of  the  Ritualistic  Movement  in 
the  Reformed  Church"  was  "one-sided  and  unfair,  and  calculated 
to  do  harm  in  the  Church,"  unanimously  united  in  a  request  that 
Dr.  Nevin  should  furnish  a  history  of  the  preparation  and  a  critical 
review  of  the  merits  of  the  Revised  Liturgy  for  publication.  He 
complied  with  this  request,  and  not  long  afterwards  his  "  Vindica- 
tion of  the  Bevised  Liturgy^ — Historical  and  Theohx/icat,'^  Pp.  98, 
made  its  appearance.  The  historical  portion  defended  the  moral 
integrity  of  the  Committee  against  the  charge  that  thev  had  diso- 
be3-ed  the  instructions  of  Synod  in  the  preparation  of  the  Liturgy; 
that  by  persevering  ettbrts  they  had  sought  to  work  out  a  liturg}* 
of  their  own  rather  than  such  a  one  as  the  Synod  called  for ;  and 
that  by  dela^^s,  from  time  to  time,  b}'  management  or  their  own 
manipulations,  the}'  had  sought  to  secure  its  ultimate  adoption. 
These  charges  were  answered  in  the  Vindication  b}'  the  facts,  already 
mentioned  in  these  pages,  in  a  racy  style,  glittering  at  times  with  a 
mixture  of  pleasantr}^  and  withering  sarcasm,  to  which  no  one  on 
the  other  side  of  the  house  could  consistently  make  any  objections. 

The  second  part  of  the  tract,  occupied  with  something  more  sub- 
stantial, was  a  vindication  of  the  Christological, — Christo-centric 
— and  churchly  views  which  underlay'  the  structure  of  the  Liturgy, 
including  a  repl}-  to  the  objections  made  against  its  doctrine  of  Or- 
dination, Confession  and  Absolution,  Baptism,  the  Lord's  Supper, 
and  correlated  points.  The  theology  here  developed  over  against 
what  was  designated  an  '"  Anti-Liturgical  Theology  "  is  substantially 
the  same  that  has  been  set  forth  in  other  parts  of  this  volume,  and 
needs  no  repetition  in  this  place. 

The  ^'indication  was  i)ublished  in  the  early  \nirt  of  the  year  1807, 
and  close  on  its  heels,  before  the  end  of  the  Spring,  appeared  a  "  Re- 
ply," in  a  tract  of  156  pages  with  the  title.  "Reformed,  not  Ritual- 
istic," published  at  the  request  of  two  more  elders  than  the  num- 
ber that  called  forth  the  "  Vindication."  It  covered  pretty  much 
the  same  ground  as  the  previous  tract  on  the  same  subject,  which 
some  thought  was  a  bomb-shell  thrown  into  the  S3'nod  of  Dayton; 
and  the  frequent  occurrence  of  harsh  words  and  phrases  directed 
against  the  author  of  the  "  Vindication,"  showed  that  the  character 
of  this  second  attack  on  the  Liturgj'  and  its  authors  was  in  the  main 


508  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

the  same  a,s  the  first. — It  maj'  be  proper  to  add  that  Dr.  Nevin  did 
not  think  it  necessary  to  reply  to  this  second  thrust  at  the  Liturgy 
in  another  vindication,  as  it  was  tliought  that  he  had  already  an- 
swered it  sufflcientlj-  before  its  appearance. — For  the  next  three 
years  the  liturgical  conflict  continued  more  or  less  in  public  or  pri- 
vate, of  which  we  can  here  give  no  particular  account.  It  served  to 
show,  at  least,  the  earnestness  of  the  churchl}-,  liturgical  movement. 

In  the  3'ear  1869  the  General  Sjmod  met  in  Philadelphia,  and  as 
it  had  been  generally  understood  that  the  liturgical  question  was 
to  come  up  once  more  for  consideration  or  settlement,  the  meeting 
was  unusually  well  attended.  This  time  the  Eastern  Elders  were  all 
in  their  places,  and  those  from  the  West  out  to  Iowa  did  not  lag 
much  behind  them. 

The  Western  Liturg}^  had  been  published  and  a  cop}^  of  it  was 
presented  to  the  Synod  for  examination.  The  committee,  to  whom 
this  new  work  and  other  matters  pertaining  to  the  general  subject 
were  referred,  reported  through  its  chairman,  Dr.  Thomas  G. 
Appel,  that  the  two  Synods  of  the  West,  English  and  German,  be 
allowed  to  use  their  "  Liturgy  or  Order  of  Worship,"  just  published, 
according  to  their  request,  in  the  same  way  as  the  Synod  in  the 
East  had  been  accorded  this  privilege  at  Dayton  in  1866;  that 
nothing  could  be  gained  by  sending  anj-  Liturg3'  down  to  the 
Classes  for  confirmation  or  rejection  in  existing  circumstances,  as 
the  Church  was  not  prepared  to  unite  on  one  or  the  other  at  the 
time  ;  that  the  onl}'  possible  course  to  be  pursued  was  to  allow,  with- 
in certain  limits,  the  question  to  work  out  its  own  results  freel^^ 
and  to  put  no  trammels  upon  the  matter  in  any  way;  and  that  it  be 
commended  to  all  the  lower  Church  Courts;  and  especially  to  all 
the  churches,  the  necessity  and  importance  of  moderation,  prudence 
and  charity,  in  reference  to  the  differences  that  existed  on  the  sub- 
ject of  liturgical  worship,  in  order  that  all  might  in  the  end  be 
brought  to  unity  and  peace.  A  substitute  for  this  report  was 
thereupon  immediately  proposed,  recommending  that  the  two  Lit- 
urgies be  submitted  to  the  several  Classes  for  approval  or  disap- 
proval ;  that,  in  the  meantime,  the  optional  use  of  both  be  alloAved 
in  divine  worship;  and  that  neither  should  be  emplo3'ed  in  the 
churches  without  the  formal  consent  of  the  consistory-  and  the  con- 
gregation. 

The  discussion  then  commenced  and  continued  during  three  ses- 
sions. The  audiences  were  large,  intelligent  and  discriminating. 
The  number  of  advisory  members  present  from  all  parts  of  the 
Church  in  the  East  and  the  far  West  was  nearlv  as  large  as  that  of 


J 


ClIAP.  XXXX]  AN    KUA    OF    CONTROVERSY  509 

the  regular  delegates.  Besides,  many  clergymen  and  laymen  of  dif- 
ferent denominations  were  present  as  interested  spectators.  The 
subject  was  somewhat  new  to  most  outsiders,  but  the  liturgical  feel- 
ing had  begun  to  awake  in  many  minds  in  different  directions,  and 
all  seemed  anxious  to  hear  what  could  be  said  on  the  subject.  The 
substitute,  although  plausible  at  first  view,  had  in  it  an  inherent 
weakness,  which  soon  became  manifest.  Had  it  prevailed,  neither 
of  the  two  Liturgies  would  have  received  the  vote  of  two-thirds  of 
the  Classes, — thirty -two  in  all — which  were  necessarv  according  to 
the  Constitution  of  the  Church  for  the  adoption  of  a  liturgy.  The 
result  would  have  been  "  confusion  worse  confounded,"  and  both 
Liturgies,  the  fruit  of  much  labor  and  toil,  would  have  been  dis- 
graced. Some  probabl}-  Avould  have  been  quite  well  satisfied  with 
such  a  denouement,  or  cutting  of  the  Gordian  knot;  this  certainly 
would  have  been  true  of  a  reverend  delegate,  innocent  of  much 
historical  development,  who,  in  the  midst  of  a  warm  discussion  at 
a  previous  Synod,  once  got  up  and  in  a  sort  of  panic  or  fright  was 
led  to  cry  out:  "Mr.  President,  can't  we  stop  the  Liturgy?" 

But  there  were  sober-minded,  reflecting  men  in  the  Philadelphia 
Synod  who  would  not  suffer  the  Church  to  reduce  itself  to  an  ab- 
surdity'. Dr.  Xevin,  at  the  close  of  a  comparatively  short  speech, 
said  that  the  substitute  reminded  him  of  the  proposition  of  King 
Solomon,  to  thrust  the  sword  through  the  living  as  well  as  the  dead 
child.  The  proposal  here  might  suit  those  who  took  no  interest  in 
any  liturgy,  or  thought  their  own  liturgy  was  a  dead  child,  but 
must  be  rejected  with  horror  b}-  all  those  who  believed  that  their 
liturgical  child  was  a  living  one.  The  remark  produced  some  mer- 
riment at  first,  but  a  verj'  deep  and  profound  sensation  throughout 
tlie  house  in  a  moment  afterward. — The  substitute  was  defeated  and 
the  original  report  adopted  b3'  more  than  a  two-thirds  majority — 
117  yeas  to  52  nays  and  9  non-liquets,  a  considerable  number  of 
the  western  members  voting  with  their  eastern  brethren.  The 
forces  of  the  opposition  were  shattered,  and  the  last  great  moral 
battle  was  won.  It  resembled  in  some  respects  those  waged 
around  Appomattox  Court-house,  which  had  been  fought  a  few 
years  before.  It  ought  to  have  been  followed  by  a  voluntai-y  cessa- 
tion of  hostilities  on  fair  and  honorable  terms,  and  an  agreement  to 
live  together  in  peace  and  unit}',  but  the  time  for  that  had  not  yet 
arrived. 

The  subject  of  the  Ijiturgy,  therefore,  continued  to  be  discussed 
in  the  ])apers  of  the  Church  from  both  stand-points,  and  at  times 
by  no  means  in  a  broad  Christian  spirit.     The  Bfformed  Monthly, 


510  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DlV.  X 

the  organ  of  the  opposition,  based  on  the  minorit}'  report  at  Da3^ton, 
and  abounding,  to  say  the  least,  with  numerous  non-sequiturs,  paid 
its  monthly  visits  to  its  patrons  without  adding  much  to  tlieir  edifi- 
cation. In  the  year  1874,  Dr.  Schneck,  borrowing  largely  from  the 
Monthly  just  mentioned,  with  its  errors  of  statement,  published 
his  "Mercersburg  Theolog}',  inconsistent  with  Protestant  and  He- 
formed  Doctrine,"  which,  without  any  intention  on  his  part,  by 
its  title,  struck  at  Dr.  Schaff's  theology  no  less  than  Dr.  Nevin's. 
In  a  large  degree  it  fell  still-born  from  the  press,  and  Dr.  Nevin 
did  not  think  it  necessary  to  notice  it  or  other  literature  of  the  same 
kind.  He  was,  however,  considerably  interested  in  a  Convention 
held  at  Mj-erstown,  in  Lebanon  county,  Pa.,  in  1867,  mainly  for 
the  purpose  of  arresting  the  liturgical  movement — of  course  with 
all  that  it  involved.  It  was  an  appeal  to  the  people,  and  there  was 
no  telling  what  it  might  come  to.  The  meeting  Avas  largely  attended 
by  members  of  the  churches  whose  ministers  belonged  to  the  anti- 
liturgical  wing.  It  was  pervaded  with  a  considerable  degree  of 
enthusiasm,  and  the  conclusion  was  to  send  up  to  the  Synod  a  bill 
of  complaints  and  to  ask  for  redress.  The  Synod,  however,  did 
not  regard  the  appeal  as  in  ecclesiastical  order,  and  told  the  breth- 
ren who  attended  the  mass  meeting,  that  thereafter  they  should 
bring  up  their  complaints  through  the  regular  judicatories  of  the 
Church,  which  were  the  constituted  channels  for  such  purposes. 
Dr.  Nevin,  who  was  present  at  the  Synod,  advocated  this  as  the 
proper  course  to  be  pursued,  and  the  popular  uprising  against  the 
Liturgy  did  not  end  in  any  serious  harm,  as  he  apprehended  it 
might. 

In  the  Committee  appointed  by  the  83^1001  to  send  forth  a  Pas- 
toi'al  Letter  to  the  churches  warning  them  against  holding  such 
popular  meetings,  he  helped  to  intone  its  language  so  as  to  reflect 
upon  the  Myerstown  Convention  more  sternly,  perhaps,  than  was 
really  necessary.  It  was  composed  of  earnest  and  sincere  men,  who 
came  together,  as  they  believed,  to  saA^e  the  Church  from  the  long 
array  of  imaginary  mischiefs  that  were  sure  to  grow  out  of  the 
Order  of  Worship  according  to  the  minority  report  at  Da3'ton. 
As  the  evils  were  not  likely  to  be  realized,  the  Myerstown  Conven. 
tion  was  a  harmless  affair,  "  signifying  nothing,"  and  it  was  scarcely 
necessary  for  the  S3'nod  to  make  so  much  account  of  it. 

The  war  continued  for  several  3^ears  on  a  small  scale,  each  side 
apparentl3'  watching  the  other  so  that  neither  might  get  the  advan- 
tage, not  even  in  an3^  skirmish  or  fora3'  into  the  territor3'  of  the 
other.     The  conflicts  had  been  attended  with  man3"  direful  results, 


I 


Chap.  XXXX]  tiik  return  of  peace  511 

as  was  often  alleged,  but  for  the  most  part  the}-  were  supplemented 
b^'^  such  as  were  positively  useful.  Classes,  especially  in  the  West, 
were  divided  and  increased,  so  as  to  strengthen  the  representation 
at  the  General  Synod  for  special  emergencies;  but  that  new  depar- 
ture helped  to  wake  up  the  overgrown  Classes  in  Pennsjdvania  to 
do  the  same  thing;  two  of  which  were  nearly  or  (piite  as  strong  in 
membcrshi))  as  the  two  western  Synods  combined.  The  vexed  ques- 
tion of  the  Liturgy  ever  and  anon  popped  u|)  in  consistories,  classes 
or  synods,  and  stirred  up  a  breeze  which  did  no  great  harm  to 
sluggish  Teutonic  blood.  Sometimes  a  congregation  was  split 
asunder  by  the  undue  zeal  of  the  liturgicals  or  the  anti-liturgicals, 
and  the  result  was  the  formation  of  a  new  congregation,  which  in 
the  end  was  a  positive  gain ;  because,  if  the  swarm  had  not  been 
disturbed,  the  bees  w'ould  have  remained  in  the  old  hive,  and  been 
too  sluggish  to  swarm  of  their  own  accord.  In  more  than  one  in- 
stance, polemics  instead  of  the  Gospel  of  the  day  was  preached  from 
the  sacred  desk,  which  was  an  unmitigated  evil — 

Whe7i  pulpit  drum  ecclesiastic 

Was  beat  with  a  fist  instead  of  a  stick. 

But  admitting  the  evils  of  the  long  campaign,  the  Church  advanced 
in  its  inner  life  and  its  practical  activity*.  Those  who  wished  to 
l)ray  by  the  book  in  the  East  were  numerically  the  stronger,  ruled 
in  the  Classes  and  the  Synod,  and  accordingly  felt  their  responsi- 
bility. They  reorganized  the  missionary  work  of  the  Church, 
awakened  new  interest  in  practical  church  activity,  and  helped  to 
give  the  anti-liturgicals  something  else  to  think  about  in  the  place 
of  what  had  come  to  occupy  an  undue  amount  of  their  attention. 
On  the  whole  the  controversy  did  a  vast  amount  of  good  to  the 
Church  in  breaking  up  its  spiritual  slumbers  and  in  bringing  it  to 
its  proper  self-consciousness,  self-respect,  and  the  conviction  that 
it  had  a  specific  work  of  its  own  to  perform  with  other  branches  of 
the  Church  of  Christ  in  this  country.  Here  the  treasure  committed 
to  earthen  vessels  appeared  only  the  more  resplendent,  because  the^' 
seemed  to  be  so  earthy  and  fragile. 

But  Churches  get  tired  of  controversies — especially  after  they 
have  run  their  course — and  Christians  engaged  in  them  for  a  while 
long  for  peace  and  an  era  of  good  will.  A  reaction  gradually  set 
in  soon  after  the  great  meeting  in  Philadelphia,  and  from  that  time 
onward  the  period  of  reconstruction  may  be  said  to  have  com- 
menced, which  only  waited  for  an  opi)ortunity  to  manifest  its 
strength.  Tliere  were  many  indications  of  a  deep  undercurrent  of 
feeling   in   favor  of  the  restoration   of  peaceful   relations   in   the 


512  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

Clmrch,  and  of  an  actual  yearning  among  the  brethren  for  more 
unit}'  among  themseh^es  than  for  ''a  closer  union  with  sister  de- 
nominations."— An  illustration  of  this  is  here  given. 

In  the  year  1877, one  of  the  Professors  at  Lancaster  was  invited, 
by  the  Rev.  Fredrick  Strassner,  to  attend  a  General  Convention  of 
the  Ohio  Synod,  which  was  to  be  held  in  his  own  church  at  Orr- 
ville,  Wayne  county,  Ohio,  and  to  deliver  a  public  lecture  sometime 
during  its  sessions.  He  cheerfully  accepted  the  invitation,  be- 
cause he  wished  to  see  the  country  and  learn  how  the  churches 
were  advancing.  He  thought  he  could  cross  the  Ohio  line  without 
exciting  remarks  or  suspicion,  as  he  had  been  requested  to  lecture  on 
some  subject  in  science,  at  the  meeting  of  the  Synod.  Such  a  topic 
surely  would  not  touch  on  controverted  points.  His  intercourse 
with  the  Western  brethren  was  pleasant  and  fraternal.  He  was  sur- 
prised to  see  that  the  old  controversies  seemed  to  be  a  thing  of  the 
past,  and  that  the  general  feeling  was  in  fiivor  of  the  return  of  unity 
and  peace  throughout  the  Church  ;  or,  as  Dr.  Samuel  B.  Leiter  ex- 
pressed it  with  much  emphasis  and  feeling,  "a  better  understanding 
with  the  brethren  in  the  East."  The  aged  ministers.  Dr.  David 
Kaemmerer,  Dr.  David  H.  Winters,  and  Dr.  Peter  Herbruck.  with 
deep  emotion,  gave  utterance  to  the  same  wish,  and  the  younger 
brethren,  Williard,  Reiter,  Lake,  Herman,  Zahner,  Mease,  Kefauver, 
Kendig,  Leberman  and  others,  breathed  the  same  spirit  of  unit}^ 
and  concord,  which  seemed  to  please  pastor  Strassner  amazingly. 
On  his  return  home  he  prepared  an  article  for  both  Church  papers, 
giving  his  impressions  of  the  Church  in  the  West ;  directing  at- 
tention to  the  kindly  feelings  of  the  Western  brethren  toward  the 
East,  and  their  desire  to  "come  to  a  better  understanding."  The 
paper,  it  is  said,  was  read  with  interest  and  received  with  faA^or. 
— The  unsophisticated  Professor  was  not  aware  that  he  was  in  the 
hands  of  a  son  of  Abraham,  and  that  pastor  Strassner  was  making 
use  of  him  to  initiate  a  peace  movement,  in  his  own  wa^',  until  he 
told  him  all  about  it  afterwards — a  few  years  ago. 

In  1878  the  General  Synod  met  at  Lancaster,  Pa.,  and  at  the 
first  session  there  was  everj^  indication  of  an  ecclesiastical  wran- 
gle or  another  theological  tempest.  The  skies  presented  a  leaden 
hue,  and  if  the  ocean  did  not  exactly  yawn,  the  winds  at  least 
rudely  blew  and  seemed  to  toss  the  foundering  bark.  At  first 
some  brethren  at  Lancaster  heartily  wished  that  the  Synod  had 
met  somewhere  else.  Some  thought  it  would  be  better  to  yield 
to  the  inevitable,  and  to  form  two  General  Assemblies.  But  at 
the  right  time,  and  in  the  right  place,  at  an  evening  session,  an 


Chap.  XXXX]  the  return  of  peace  513 

Eastern  inenilKT.  Dr.  Clcniont  Z.  Weiser,  took  the  Synod  by  sur- 
prise, and  in  a  series  of  well  prepared  resolutions  proposed  that 
Commissioners  should  he  appointed  by  the  different  Synods — then 
four  in  the  East  and  two  in  the  West — who  should  prepare  a  IJasis, 
upon  which  all  parts  of  the  Church  could  stand  and  work  in  har- 
mony Avith  each  other.  The  proposition  met  with  favor  at  once  ; 
animated  speakers  advocated  it  without  regard  to  party  lines  ;  and 
the  utmost  good  will  pervaded  the  Synod,  as  well  as  the  immense 
audience  present.  It  was  not  long  before  the  house  was  ready  for 
the  motion, but  there  was  some  demurring  to  the  general  wish;  and 
it  was  urged  that  it  would  be  the  part  of  prudence  to  postpone  the 
question  until  the  next  day.  Motions  to  adjourn,  however,  one 
after  another,  were  voted  down,  although  it  was  growing  late,  until 
they  l)ecame  absolutely  distasteful. 

At  length  some  practical  Elders  understanding  the  situation  com- 
bined together  and  determined  to  keep  "  these  preachers  "  in  the 
church  until  the  great  question  was  decided — if  they  should  have 
to  stay  all  night  in  their  seats.  At  a  late  hour  Dr.  Weiser's  reso- 
lutions were  adopted — nemine  contradicente.  Every  body  was  de- 
lighted, with  few  or  no  belligerent  exceptions,  and  at  the  adjourn- 
ment of  the  Synod  the  whole  body  arose,  and  promjited  l)y  Rev. 
Dr.  X.  Gehr,  a  German,  united  in  singing  the  German  choral: 

Lobe  den  Ilerrn, 
Den  machtigen  Kamig  der  Ehren, 

concluding  with  the  long  metre  doxolog}^  sung  together  in  the 
German  and  English  languages  at  the  same  time.  The  brethren 
then  asunder  parted  with-  happy  feelings, — with  the  belief  that 
this  meeting  had  bad  a  good  effect. — Thus,  after  a  thirty  j^ears'  ^ 
war,  the  liturgical  conflict  ended;  peace  was  declared  in  the  cit}' 
of  Lancaster  in  one  of  the  oldest  congregations  in  the  Church, 
and  under  the  shadow  of  her  oldest  classical  and  theological  in- 
stitutions. 

The  limits  set  by  these  memoirs  will  not  allow  us  to  pursue  the 
history  of  the  labors  of  the  Peace  Commissioners  to  bring  about 
a  general  pacitication,  which  would  form  an  interesting  chapter  in 
itself  The  action  of  the  General  Synod  at  Lancaster  was  in  itself 
the  declaration  of  peace,  and  accordingly,  with  the  best  wishes  of  the 
entire  Church,  they  were  successful  as  wise  peace-makers  in  giving 
expression  to  the  general  feeling.  They  united  upon  a  satistactor^- 
Doctrinal  Basis  and,  according  to  their  instructions,  published  a 
revision  of  the  Order  of  Worship,  eliminating  certain  olijeetionablc  * 
passages,  without   changing  essentially  its  form  or  contents,  an<l 


514  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

presented  their  report  to  the  Genertil  Synod  at  Tiflin,  Ohio,  in 
1881.  The  Directory  of  Worship,  as  this  fourth  liturgy  was  called, 
was  referred  to  the  Classes  and  met  with  their  approval  without 
any  exception ;  and  after  this  fact  came  to  be  officially  announced  to 
the  same  body  in  1887,  it  became  formally  the  authorized  Liturgy  of 
the  Reformed  Church  in  the  United  States.  It  has  all  the  merits 
of  the  Order  of  Worship,  with  only  slight  modifications  of  its 
objectionable  features. — Congregations  can  use  it  as  a  whole,  in 
part,  or  not  at  all,  as  they  may  deem  best. — The  names  of  the 
Peace  Commissioners  were  as  follows:  Ministers,  Clement  Z. 
Weiser,  Thomas  G.  Appel,  Franklin  W.  Kremer,  Jeremiah  H. 
Good,  Lewis  H.  Kefauver,  Herman  J.  Kuetenik,  Peter  Greding, 
John  M.  Titzel,  Joseph  H.  Appel,  Samuel  N.  Callender,  G.  William 
AVelker,  John  Knelling;  and  Elders,  Daniel  W.  Gross,  William 
H.  Seibert,  Rudolph  F.  Kelker,  Andrew  H.  Baughman,  Benjamin 
Kuhns,  Frederick  W.  Scheele,  Henry  Tons,  Christian  M.  Boush, 
Thomas  J.  Craig,  Henr^^  Wirt,  Lewis  H.  Steiner,  and  William  D, 
Gross. — Thus  ended  the  famous  Liturgical  Movement  extending 
over  many  3'ears,  which  must  have  been  something  useful  to  the 
Church  as  a  whole,  because  it  "ended  well." 


CHAPTER   XLI 

AS  tlie  old  Greciiui  i)hilosoi)lier  felt  the  necessity  of  returning  to 
^^-J-  intelleotuiil  work  after  he  had  tauglit  his  neighT)ors  how  to 
cultivate  olives,  so  Dr.  Xevin  found  himself  impelled  to  add  intel- 
lectual to  physical  exercise.  Ilis  pen  gradually  regained  its  activity, 
and  he  wrote  for  the  Mercersbiirg  Bevieiv  some  of  his  ablest  and  best 
articles.  Occasionally  he  assisted  in  giving  instructions  to  the 
college  classes  during  the  absence  of  one  of  the  Professors.  At  the 
request  of  the  Faculty  he  delivered  an  opening  address  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  college  term,  and  selected  as  his  theme,  "The  Won- 
derful Nature  of  Man."  We  here  give  the  address  as  it  appeai-ed 
in  the  Jul}'  number  of  the  Merceri>hur<j  Review  for  the  year  1859. 

Science,  as  it  has  to  do  with  the  world  of  Nature,  unfolds  to  our 
view,  in  every  direction,  objects  and  scenes  of  surpassing  interest. 
Each  different  province  of  knowledge  is  found  to  embrace  a  whole 
universe  of  wonders,  in  some  sense,  within  its  own  separate  bounds. 
Who  shall  pretend  to  set  limits  to  the  grand  significance,  in  this 
way,  of  Astronomy,  of  Geology,  of  Chemistry,  of  Natural  History 
in  all  its  divisions  and  branches?  Nay,  who  ma}- pretend  to  ex- 
haust the  full  sense  of  any  single  object  or  thing,  included  in  these 
vast  fields  of  scientific  research?  The  relatively  small  here  has  its 
mysteries  of  wisdom,  its  miracles  of  power,  no  less  than  the  rel- 
atively great.  Vistas  of  overwhelming  glorj',  stretching  far  away 
in  boundless,  interminable  perspective,  open  upon  us  through  the 
microscope  and  telescope  alike.  Ever}'  drop  of  water  shows  itself 
to  be,  in  the  end,  an  ocean  without  bottom  or  shore.  The  flowers 
of  the  field,  the  leaves  of  the  forest,  the  worm  that  crawls  upon  the 
ground,  the  insect  that  sports  its  ephemeral  life  in  the  air,  all,  all 
are  telling  continually — in  full  unison  with  the  everlasting  moun- 
tains, with  the  rolling  waves  of  the  sea,  with  the  starry  firmament 
on  high — the  endless  magnificence  of  God's  creation;  the  music  of 
earth  rising  up  everywhere,  like  the  sound  of  many  waters,  respon- 
sive to  the  music  of  the  spheres,  and  echoing  still  forever,  in  uni- 
versal triumphant  chorus.  Tin-  IkiikI  tliot  made  us  is  (h'vinc.  In 
whatever  direction  our  eyes  are  turned,  under  the  guiding  light  of 
science,  above,  beneath,  and  around,  we  are  met  with  occasions  for 
adoring  admiration,  and  mav  well  be  led  to  exclaim  with  the  Psalm- 

(515) 


516  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

ist:  "  0  Lord,  how  manifold  are  Thy  works?    In  wisdom  hast  Thon 
made  them  all;  the  earth  is  full  of  Th}'  riches." 

In  the  midst  of  all  these  wonders  of  Nature,  however,  it  is  easy 
to  see  that  the  central  place  belongs  to  3Ian  himself.  This  indeed 
is  plainl3'  signified  to  us  by  the  Mosaic  account  of  the  Creation,  in 
the  first  chapter  of  Genesis;  where  the  different  parts  of  the  world 
are  represented  as  coming  into  existence  in  a  certain  order  and 
course;  each  lower  stage  opening  the  way  always  for  a  higher,  and 
one  part  of  the  process  leading  over  continually  to  another;  until 
all  is  made  to  end  at  last,  on  the  sixth  day,  in  the  formation  of 
Adam — as  though  the  whole  work  previously  had  been  concerned 
with  the  preparation  simply  of  a  fit  platform  or  theatre,  on  which 
he,  the  last  sense  and  crowning  glory  of  all,  was  to  be  finally  ushered 
into  being.  On  this  account,  moreover,  a  new  special  solemnity 
is  thrown  aronnd  his  advent,  a  sort  of  heavenly  circumstance  and 
pomp,  showing  forth  sublimely  the  greatness  of  the  occasion.  All 
else  being  complete,  and  the  preliminary  arrangements  of  creation 
brought  forward  in  order  to  this  point,  there  follows  as  it  were  a 
panse  in  the  process ;  and  then  the  voice  of  God  is  heard  once  more : 
"Let  us  make  man  in  our  image,  after  our  likeness;  and  let  them 
have  dominion  over  the  fish  of  the  sea,  and  over  the  fowl  of  the  air, 
and  over  the  cattle,  and  over  all  the  earth,  and  over  every  creeping 
thing  that  creepeth  upon  the  earth."  Man  thns  is  declared  to  be 
something  higher  and  greater  than  the  whole  world  of  nature  be- 
sides. He  is  the  head  of  the  natural  creation.  All  its  mysteries 
and  glories  culminate  at  last  in  his  person,  and  find  here  only  their 
full  significance,  their  proper  conclusion  and  end. 

The  actual  structure  of  the  world,  as  it  nnfolds  itself  continually- 
more  and  more  to  the  observation  of  science,  is  found  to  be  in 
striking  agreement  with  this  ancient  representation  of  the  Bible. 
It  is  plainlj'  a  single  system  throughout,  subject  everywhere  to  the 
presence  of  a  common  law,  pervaded  nniversall}'  by  the  power  of  a 
common  idea  or  thought,  and  reaching  always,  with  inward  restless 
nisus,  toward  a  common  end.  The  inorganic  is  in  order  to  the 
organic.  The  cr3'stal  is  a  prophecy  of  the  coming  plant.  Rising 
continually  from  lower  to  higher  and  more  perfect  forms  of  exist- 
ence, the  whole  vegetable  world  serves  to  foreshadow,  in  like  manner, 
the  sphere  of  animal  life  above  it.  This  again  is  an  upward  move- 
ment throughout,  an  ever  ascending  series  of  tj^pes  and  forms, 
reaching  alwavs  toward  an  ideal,  which  on  to  the  last  it  has  no 
power  to  actualize,  but  can  faintly  prefigure  only  as  something  far 
more  exalted  and  far  more  alorious  than  itself.     The  oro;anic  order 


Chap.  XLI]         the  wonderful  nature  of  man  517 

comes  to  its  rest  iiltimntely  in  Man.  He  is  the  true  ideal  of  the 
world's  universal  life,  the  last  aim  and  scope,  we  may  say,  of  the 
whole  natural  creation.  He  is  the  fulfilment  of  all  its  prophecies, 
the  key  to  its  mysteries,  the  exposition  of  its  deepest  and  most 
hidden  sense. 

As  being  then,  in  such  view,  the  last,  full  sense  and  meaning  of 
the  world,  Man  necessarily  represents  to  us  its  main  interest  and 
glor^-,  and  must  be  more  woi'thy  of  our  regard  than  all  it  offers  be- 
sides to  our  contemplation.  It  can  be  no  extravagance  to  say,  that 
his  existence  and  presence  in  the  s^'stem  of  nature  set  before  us  the 
greatest  and  strangest  part  of  its  wonderful  constitution — a  fact, 
which  surpasses  in  significance,  and  transcends  in  interest,  all  its 
other  phenomena  and  facts  combined.  Man  is  an  object  immeasur- 
ably more  loft}'  and  grand,  in  the  universe  of  God's  works,  than  the 
towering  hills,  the  swelling  seas,  or  the  stars  even,  that  look  down 
upon  him  from  their  infinite  distances  in  the  calm,  blue  vault  of 
heaven.  He  ranks  higher  in  the  scale  of  creation,  fie  embraces  in 
his  being  more  stupendous  realities,  profounder  mysteries,  wider 
and  ftir  more  enduring  interests.  Well  might  the  Hebrew  Singer 
cry  out,  overwhelmed  as  it  were  with  the  contemplation  of  his  own 
nature :  "  I  will  praise  Thee,  0  Lord ;  for  I  am  fearfully  and  wonder- 
fully made:  marvellous  are  Th}'  works;  and  that  m}'  soul  knoweth 
right  well."  Yes,  of  a  truth,  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made.  The 
declaration  applies  in  full  force  to  the  entire  being  of  Man,  He  is 
to  be  gazed  upon  with  a  sort  of  trembling  admiration,  first  of  all, 
in  his  simply  physical  nature;  still  more  so,  afterwards,  in  his 
intellectual  nature;  but  most  of  all,  finally,  in  his  moral  nature — 
where  only,  at  the  last,  the  full  boundless  significance  of  his  life, 
and  along  with  this,  the  whole  terrible  sublimity  of  it  also,  may  be 
said  to  burst  com[)letoly  into  view. 

Look  at  him  first  in  his  simply  pliysical  nature.  The  human 
body  offers  itself  to  our  consideration  at  once,  as  the  greatest  and 
most  finished  work  of  God  in  the  outward  world.  When  we  com- 
l)are  it  with  other  natural  objects,  there  is  none  wliich  can  be  said 
to  be  equal  to  it,  or  like  to  it.  either  in  conception  or  in  actual  ex- 
ecution and  effect. 

So  under  a  merely  anatomical  view.  The  more  closely  and  care- 
fully we  study  its  conformation  and  structure,  as  thev  are  laid  open 
to  our  observation  by  the  dissecting  knife — its  framework  of  bones, 
its  muscles  and  tendons,  its  nerves,  its  curious  apjtaratus  of  the 
senses,  its  organs  of  action  and  motion,  its  marvellous  dispositions 
and  arrangements  of  stomach,  lungs,  heart,  brain,  the  perfection,  in 


518  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-18G1  [DiV.  X 

one  word,  of  till  its  parts,  and  their  most  admirable  fitness  for  their 
several  purposes  and  ends — the  more  deeply  and  thoronghl}-  shall 
we  be  made  to  feel,  tliat  taken  altogether,  even  in  this  dead  mechan- 
ical light,  there  is  indeed  nothing  so  absolutely  wonderful  and  com- 
plete, in  the  whole  range  of  nature  besides. 

But  the  case  becomes  of  course  still  stronger  a  great  deal,  when 
we  pass  from  anatom}^  to  physiolog}-,  and  fix  our  attention  not 
simply  on  the  mechanism  of  the  body  in  a  state  of  rest,  but  on  this 
same  mechanism  animated  and  set  in  motion  everywhere  by  the 
powers  and  forces  of  life  itself,  working  by  it,  and  through  it,  for 
the  accomplishment  of  their  proper  end.  Such  a  sphere  of  wonders 
is  here  thrown  open  to  our  contemplation,  as  may  be  easil}^  seen  at 
once  to  leave  far  behind,  in  significance  and  interest,  all  that  can 
be  brought  into  comparison  with  it  under  an^'  like  physical  form. 
Yast  as  the  powers  of  nature  may  show  themselves  in  other  quar- 
ters, grand  as  the  scale  of  their  action  may  be,  and  however  much 
of  strange,  amazing  mystery"  may  seem  to  enter  into  their  processes, 
they  bring  after  all  no  such  results  to  pass  anywhere,  as  can  be 
said  to  match  in  an}'  measure  what  is  going  forward  continually  in 
the  living  constitution  of  the  human  body. 

What,  for  example,  is  the  chemistry  of  nature,  its  dark  mysterious 
processes  going  forward  always  in  the  deep  places  of  the  earth,  its 
laboratory  of  wonders  in  the  air  and  in  the  sky — where  the  winds 
are  born — where  the  clouds  come  and  go — where  rain,  snow,  hail, 
liglitning,  and  tempest  issue  continually  from  the  same  awful  womb; 
what  is  all  this,  we  say,  in  comparison  witli  what  is  taking  place 
every  day  in  every  such  living  body,  by  tlie  process  of  digestion 
and  assimilation;  through  which,  all  sorts  of  foreign  material  are 
received,  in  the  shape  of  food,  into  the  stomach,  wrought  silently 
into  blood,  and  converted  out  of  this  finally  into  the  very  substance 
of  all  the  diff"erent  parts  of  the  s\'stem — meeting  thus  its  perpetual 
waste  with  perpetual  renovation  and  supply. 

What  is  the  ocean,  with  its  world-embracing  circulation — its 
waters  lifted  into  the  air,  borne  in  every  direction  by  the  clouds, 
made  to  descend  in  showers  upon  the  earth,  gathered  into  streams, 
and  poured  at  last  through  mighty  rivers  back  again  into  their 
original  bed;  what  is  "this  great  and  wide  sea,  wherein  are  things 
creeping  innumerable,  both  small  and  great  beasts,"  where  the  ships 
go,  and  where  leviathan  is  made  to  play;  what  is  the  whole  of  it  at 
last,  in  all  its  greatness,  over  against  that  wonder  of  wonders,  the 
human  heart,  with  its  tidal  flow  of  blood  kept  up  day  and  night, 
and  year  after  year,  through  the  arteries  and  the  veins! 


ClIAP.  XLI]  THE    WONDERFUL    NATURE    OF    MAN  519 

What  is  the  action  of  the  winds,  which  come  no  one  can  tell 
whence,  and  go  no  one  can  tell  whither,  now  fanning  the  earth  in 
gentle  zeph\'rs,  and  now  sweeping  over  the  face  of  it  in  hnrricanes 
and  storms,  penetrating  all  things,  pnrifj'ing  all  things,  stirring  all 
things  into  motion  and  life;  what  is  the  action  of  the  winds,  we  ask 
again,  in  this  ontward  view,  compared  with  the  proper  breath  of 
life  in  man,  received  throngh  his  nostrils,  and  made  to  fulfil  its  un- 
resting twofold  ministry  by  the  iTiarvellons  econom}'  of  his  lungs? 

Or  the  still  more  subtle  forces  of  electricity  and  magnetism,  as 
they  are  found  to  be  constantly  and  powerfully  at  work  everywhere, 
through  the  universal  realm  of  nature,  or  as  the}'  are  made  to  per- 
form miracles,  at  the  present  day,  in  obedience  to  the  will  of  science 
and  art ;  what  are  they,  under  either  view,  in  comparison  with  the 
brain  of  man,  and  its  dependent  system  of  nerves,  extending  with 
infinite  ramification  to  all  parts  of  the  body,  and  causing  the  whole 
to  be  filled  at  every  point,  and  through  every  instant  of  time,  with 
the  unity  of  a  common  life? 

It  is  true  indeed,  that  these  ph3'siological  wonders  themselves 
cotne  before  us,  to  a  certain  extent,  on  the  outside  of  man's  nature. 
They  belong  to  the  animal  world  in  general.  Here  too  the  phe- 
nomena of  sentient  life,  upheld  and  carried  forward  by  organs  and 
functions  strangely  adapted  to  its  use,  challenge  in  every  direction 
our  profound  admiration.  Bodily  senses  are  here,  vital  activities, 
powers  of  digestion,  secretion,  and  self-reparation,  blood  coursing 
through  arteries  and  veins,  the  curious  play  of  lungs,  and  the  work- 
ing more  curious  still  of  nerves  and  brain.  Many  animals  seem 
even  to  surpass  man,  in  particular  aspects  and  features  of  their 
organization.  He  is  excelled  by  some  in  strength;  by  others,  in 
speed ;  bv  others  again,  in  special  forms  of  natural  art  and  ingenuity. 
Some  have  a  more  quick  and  acute  sense  of  hearing;  others  a  far 
more  keen  and  wide  reaching  vision.  In  all  directions  around  him, 
they  show  themselves  qualified  and  fitted  for  modes  of  existence, 
which  are  for  him  impossible  altogether. 

But  all  this  detracts  nothing  in  the  end  from  the  proper  supe- 
riority of  his  being,  even  in  that  merely  physical  view  with  which 
only  we  are  now  concerned.  For  it  is  easy  enough  to  see,  that  any 
points  of  advantage,  which  \na,y  seem  to  belong  to  other  animal  or- 
ganizations, hold  only  in  single  subordinate  particulars;  going  thus 
to  show  the  comparatively  i)artial  and  narrow  order  of  their  life; 
while  in  any  world  of  order  and  beautv,  it  was  after  all  an  imperfect 
symbol  only  of  what  took  place  in  a  higher  form,  when  "the  Lord 
God  formed  Man  of  the  dust  of  the  ground,  and  breathed  into  his 


520  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

nostrils  the  breath  of  life,"  causing  him  to  become  thus,  through 
his  own  inspiration,  a  rational  and  intelligent  soul.  It  was  as  if 
the  whole  work  of  creation,  in  its  pi'evious  form,  had  been  suddenlj^ 
flooded  with  fresh  heavenlj^  ligbt,  and  kindled  into  new  sense.  For 
such  in  truth  is  the  mysterious  relation,  which  mind,  as  it  lives  and 
reigns  in  man,  sustains  through  all  time  to  the  outward  material 
world.  In  a  profound  sense,  it  may  be  said  actually  to  make  the 
world,  imparting  to  it  its  whole  form  and  meaning  as  it  now  stands. 
Not  as  if  the  system  of  nature  had  no  existence,  on  the  one  side  of 
man's  intelligence  and  thought.  It  has  a  being  of  its  own,  we  be- 
lieve, apart  from  all  such  apprehension.  But  what  that  is,  we  can 
never  either  know  or  guess.  It  offers  to  our  contemplation  nothing 
better  than  thick,  impenetrable  darkness. 

In  such  view,  it  is  for  us  as  though  it  did  not  exist  at  all.  To 
1)ecome  real  for  us,  in  any  waj-,  the  world  must  not  only  he;  it 
miist  come  into  us  also  in  the  way  of  knowledge;  and  the  forms  of 
this  knowledge,  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  can  be  imparted  to  it  onl}- 
by  our  own  minds.  It  is  for  us,  therefore,  only  what  it  is  made  to 
])e  through  our  intelligence  itself,  and  nothing  more.  Not  only  so; 
but  we  must  say  the  world  itself  is  made  for  this  mode  of  existence 
— what  it  comes  to  be  by  entering  into  the  types  and  moulds  of 
actual  knowledge — as  its  onl}-  true  and  full  perfection;  so  that, 
short  of  this,  it  must  ever  be  a  rude  and  unformed  mass,  carrying 
in  it  no  right  sense,  and  representing  no  proper  reality  whatever. 
Thus  it  is  that  the  whole  world  is  literally  brought  out  of  darkness 
into  marvellous  light,  and  reduced  at  the  same  time  to  full  order 
and  form,  by  the  power  of  intelligence  made  to  bear  upon  it  through 
the  mind  of  man.  In  the  waking  of  consciousness,  all  nature  may 
be  said  to  wake  together  with  him  into  new  life.  It  takes  shape 
everywhere  in  conformit}'  with  his  perception  and  thought.  It 
shines,  and  blooms,  and  sings,  in  obedience  to  the  magical  authorit}' 
of  his  spirit.  It  lives,  and  has  its  being — such  phenomenal  being 
as  we  know  it  by — only  in  the  orb  of  his  mind. 

We  have  seen  before,  that  the  ph^'sical  creation  centres  in  the 
human  bod}-;  and  that  this  may  well  be  dignified  with  the  title  of 
microcosm^  for  this  reason,  as  gathering  up  into  itself  finally  all 
the  forms  and  forces  of  nature  in  its  larger  view,  and  so  represent- 
ing in  small  compass  its  universal  sense.  But  what  is.  all  this,  in 
comparison  with  the  centralization  that  is  here  exhibited  to  us,  in 
the  constitution  of  the  human  soul?  By  this  emphatically  it  is, 
that  man  becomes  in  the  fullest  sense  a  living  microcosm,  taking 
uj)  into  himself  the   very  being  of  the  great  and   mighty  world 


ClIAP.  XLI]  THE    WONDERFUL    NATURE    OF    MAN  521 

around  him,  and  so  reflecting  and  showing  forth  the  full  sense  of 
it,  as  it  is  not  possible  for  it  to  be  known  in  an}-  other  way.  The 
vast,  the  manifold,  the  multitudinous  in  nature,  is  not  simplj'^  re- 
duced here  to  relativeh'  small  bounds,  as  in  the  other  case;  it  is 
brought  down  to  absolute  unity,  and  so  made  to  pass  awa}'  entirel^^ 
in  another  order  of  existence  altogether.  In  such  view,  the  micro- 
cosm is  more  than  the  macrocosm — the  world  intelligible  than  the 
world  diffused  and  spread  abroad  in  space;  since  it  is  wholly  by  the 
first  alone,  that  the  latter  can  ever  be,  at  all,  what  it  seems  to  be  in 
any  such  outward  form. 

Here,  therefore,  mere  ph^'sical  l)ulk  and  force,  set  ovei-  against 
the  being  of  man,  shrink  into  still  greater  insignificance  than  ])ofore. 
Are  not  mountains  and  seas,  bellowing  thunders,  roaring  cataracts 
and  storms,  comprehended  truly  in  his  spirit,  and  made  to  pass 
through  it,  in  order  that  they  may  be  for  him  either  outward  or 
real?  Why  then  should  he  stand  aghast  before  fJtem,  and  not  feel 
rather  in  them,  and  by  them,  the  yet  more  awful  grandeur  and  over- 
whelming vastness  of  his  own  nature.  Mind  is  infinitely  greater 
than  all  that  is  not  mind,  enlarge  the  conception  of  this  as  we  ma}-. 
It  towers  above  the  whole  material  creation.  It  outshines  the  stars. 
It  is  a  force  more  active  and  powerful  by  far,  than  that  which  bears 
along  comets  and  planets  in  their  course.  The  sun  itself,  in  all  its 
majestic  si)lendor,  is  an  object  less  high  aud  glorious,  than  the  soul 
even  of  an  infimt,  cai-rying  in  it  the  latent  power  of  thought,  the 
undeveloped  possibility  of  reason. 

AVe  have  spoken  of  the  physical  action  of  the  brain,  as  something 
greatly  more  wonderful  than  that  of  the  most  subtle  forces  in  nature 
under  any  different  form.  But  what  is  this  in  its  turn,  when  we 
come  to  compare  it  with  the  activity  of  thinking  itself,  which,  how- 
ever it  may  depend  upon  the  working  of  the  brain,  is  ^-et  not  that 
simply,  l)ut  another  order  of  force  and  energy  altogether?  Thought 
is  more  free  than  air,  more  poietrating  than  fire,  more  irresistible 
and  instantaneous  in  motion  than  lightning.  It  travels  at  a  rate, 
which  causes  the  velocity  of  light  to  appear  sluggish  and  slow.  It 
traverses  the  earth,  and  sweeps  the  heavens,  at  a  single  bound.  In 
tlie  twinkling  of- an  eye,  it  passes  to  the  planet  Saturn,  to  the  Sun, 
to  the  star  Sirius,  to  the  utmost  bounds  of  the  universe. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  as  something 
more  fearfully  grand  than  the  waters  above  the  firmament,  and  the 
waters  under  the  firmament  revolving  continually  through  the 
heart-resembling  ministry  of  oceans  and  seas.  But  what  is  all  this 
to  the  mystery  of  consciousness — that  broad,  unfathomable  sea  in, 
33 


522  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

the  human  spirit,  which  serves  to  set  in  motion  all  its  activities  and 
powers,  ont  of  whose  depths  all  knowledge  proceeds,  and  into  whose 
bosom  again  they  continually'  return! 

Every  facidty  of  the  mind  is  a  subject  for  admiration,  from  mere 
sensation  up  to  the  use  of  reason  in  its  pui-est  and  most  perfect 
form.  The  images  of  conception,  the  reproductions  of  fancy,  the 
new  combinations  and  grand  creative  processes  of  the  imagination, 
the  operations  of  judgment,  the  intuitional  apprehensions  involved 
in  the  power  of  ideas — time  would  fail  us  to  speak  of  them  in  any 
way  of  particular  detail;  but  what  realms  of  interest,  what  worlds 
of  thrilling  wonder,  do  they  not  all  throw  open  to  our  view ! 

Let  any  one  consider  only  for  a  moment  what  is  continually  going 
forward  within  us,  i,n  the  familiar  process  which  is  known  to  ns  by 
the  name  of  raemorj-.  Nothing  so  simple,  it  might  seem,  at  first 
view;  and  yet,  the  moment  we  stop  to  think  of  it,  nothing  more 
profoundly  mysterious  and  strange.  Images  and  thoughts  are  con- 
tinually entering  the  consciousness  of  the  mind,  and  then  disap- 
pearing from  it  again,  as  though  they  were  entirely  lost.  But  they 
are  in  fact  only  buried,  and  hidden  away,  in  the  secret  depths  of 
the  mind  itself,  so  as  to  be  capable  of  being  resuscitated,  and  called 
back  again,  whenever  their  presence  may  be  required;  and  in  this 
way  they  are  in  truth  all  the  time  coming  and  going,  appearing  and 
disappearing,  in  our  ordinary  thinking.  What  we  hold  in  our  in- 
telligence thus  is  onl}'  in  small  part  ever  contained  in  our  actual 
consciousness,  at  any  given  time.  By  far  the  most  of  it  is  in  us 
always  under  a  latent,  slumbering  form.  And  yet  it  all  enters  into 
our  spiritual  being,  is  truly  part  of  ourselves,  and  goes  to  make  up 
contiuuall}'  the  proper  contents  of  our  personality. 

But  what  a  marvel  this  is ;  that  so  much  of  our  knowledge  should 
be  in  the  mind  and  yet  out  of  mind,  at  the  same  time;  that  our 
sense  of  self  should  hold  joined  with  it  in  this  way  such  a  vast 
multitude  of  conceptions,  thoughts,  and  ideas,  such  a  whole  world 
of  past  experiences  and  affections,  which  nevertheless  are  in  general 
as  much  unperceived  as  though  they  did  not  exist  at  all,  and  only 
come  into  view  occasionally  and  transiently,  ever  rising  and  cA^er 
sinking,  ever  entering  and  ever  departing — an  endless  succession 
of  vanishing  forms,  in  what  remains  throughout  after  all  the  indi- 
visible, unbroken  unit}'  of  one  and  the  same  consciousness.  To 
stand  on  the  shore  of  such  an  ocean,  to  look  forth  on  its  broad, 
boundless  expanse — to  send  the  imagination  down  among  the 
secrets  that  lie  buried,  far  out  of  sight,  in  its  dark  and  silent  depths 
— ma}'  indeed  well  produce  in  any  thoughtful  mind  an  overwhelm- 


ClIAP.  XLI]  THE    WONDERFUL    NATURE    OF    MAN  523 

iiig  sentiment  both  of  astonishment  and  awe.  There  is  neither 
height  nor  (le})th,  nor  show  of  vastness  and  sublimity  under  any 
other  form,  in  the  simply  physical  world  that  may  bear  to  be  placed 
in  comparison  with  it  for  a  sin<2:le  moment. 

The  case  swells  upon  us  into  its  full  significance,  only  when  we 
come  to  ask,  Can  that  which  has  once  been  in  the  mind,  so  as  to 
be  part  and  parcel  of  its  consciousness,  ever  so  pass  out  of  it  again 
as  to  sink  into  everlasting  oblivion?  Some  thoughts,  we  know,  re- 
turn upon  us  readil3'  and  easil}-  in  our  ordinary  experience,  l3'ing 
as  it  were  near  at  hand  to  ns  all  the  time;  others  are  recalled  with 
more  difficultv,  as  having  got  farther  out  of  reach;  while  others 
again,  the  largest  class  of  all,  seem  to  have  sunk  like  lead  in  the 
might}'  waters,  to  be  remembered  b^'  us  no  more  forever. 

But  who  will  pretend  to  distinguish  here,  between  what  is  still 
within  the  reach  of  memory,  and  what  has  become  for  it  thus  as 
though  it  had  never  been?  Who  will  undertake  to  say  at  what 
l)oint  of  time,  or  nnder  what  terms  and  conditions  otherwise,  that 
which  has  once  been  the  property  of  the  spirit,  in  the  way  of 
thought,  shall  be  so  sundered  and  alienated  from  it  as  to  pass  irre- 
coverably and  entirely  out  of  its  possession?  The  grand  wonder 
is,  how  the  past  should  return  at  all,  and  become  thus  the  matter 
of  present  consciousness  and  knowledge — a  thing  past  and  3'et 
present  at  the  same  time ;  that  it  should  do  so  after  a  short  interval, 
or  do  so  after  a  long  one,  would  seem  to  be  in  the  case  a  distinc- 
tion of  no  material  account.  If  the  power  of  memory  may  bridge 
in  this  way  the  chasm  of  an  hour,  why  not  with  equal  ease,  the  ob- 
livion of  a  year  or  the  dark  void  of  a  thousand  years?  We  know 
in  fact,  that  what  has  thus  slumbered  in  ns  through  long  periods  of 
time  does  often  wake  up  within  our  consciousness  at  last,  in  the 
most  surprising  manner. 

In  old  age  especially',  nothing  is  more  common  than  such  a  resur- 
rection of  long  buried  images  and  thoughts.  In  many  cases,  the 
circumstances  and  experiences  of  childhood  and  early  youth,  after 
being  forgotten  for  scores  of  years,  are  so  restored  to  memor^^ 
again  as  to  seem  only  of  recent  date.  Persons  recovered  from 
drowning  have  said,  that  in  the  middle  state,  to  which  they  were 
brought  between  life  and  death,  a  whole  world  of  such  buried  recol- 
lections seemed  to  pass  before  them  in  panoramic  vision.  We  have 
been  told  of  others,  who,  in  circumstances  of  extreme  danger,  fall- 
ing from  a  precipice  for  instance,  or  exposed  to  the  jaws  of  death 
in  some  like  violent  waj-,  have  had  their  whole  past  lives,  as  it  ap- 
peared, brought  back  upon  them  with  a  sort  of  instantaneous  rush. 


524  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

Who,  in  view  of  such  cases,  may  presume  to  limit  the  possibilities 
of  memory?  And  who  that  thinks  of  it  may  not  well  be  filled  with 
amazement,  rising  even  to  terror  itself,  in  considering  what  is  in- 
volved for  himself,  in  the  awful  abyss,  which  is  found  thus  yawning 
before  him  continually  in  the  depths  of  his  own  soul? 

But  it  is  in  his  moral  nature  most  of  all,  that  Man  comes  before 
us  finally  in  the  full  terrible  sublimity  of  his  being — ''fearfully  and 
wonderfully  made,"  be3'ond  all  the  wonders  of  creation  under  any 
different  form. 

There  is  a  close,  necessary  connection,  of  course,  between  the 
moral  and  the  intellectual.  Reason  and  Will,  thought  and  action, 
flow  together,  and  as  it  were  interpenetrate  each  other  continuallj- , 
in  the  constitution  of  the  mind.  There  can  be  no  act  of  intelligence 
without  volition ;  and  there  can  be  no  exercise  of  Abolition  without 
intelligence.  Still  thinking  and  willing  are  not  the  same  thing; 
and  there  is  full  room,  therefore,  for  distinguishing  between  the  in- 
tellectual nature  of  man  as  based  upon  his  reason,  and  the  moral 
nature  of  man,  as  based  upon  his  will.  It  is  easy  enough  to  see,  more- 
over, that  the  relation  is  of  such  a  kind  as  to  place  the  moral  na- 
ture, in  point  of  dignity  and  worth,  above  the  intellectual.  If  it 
be  asked,  where  the  economy  of  the  mind  is  to  be  regarded  as  com- 
ing to  its  main  end,  its  grand  ultimate  purpose  and  meaning,  the 
answer  must  be,  in  that  part  of  it  which  is  represented  to  us  by  the 
idea  of  the  will.  Thought  is  rightly  in  order  to  action;  knowledge 
in  order  to  freedom.  The  practical  reason  is  greater  than  the  specu- 
lative reason.  Truth  in  the  understanding  must  become  truth  in 
the  will  also,  if  it  is  ever  to  be  either  spirit  or  life. 

We  have  seen  already,  that  the  human  mind  is  in  fact  the  revela- 
tion in  the  world  of  a  new  order  of  existence  altogether ;  a  result, 
which  serves  to  satisfy  and  fulfil  the  universal  sense  of  the  physical 
creature,  struggling  up  to  it  through  all  its  realms  of  existence,  and 
that  might  seem  to  be  thus,  in  one  view,  the  last  product  of  this 
process  itself;  while  it  is  yet  plain,  that  in  reaching  it  nature  is 
actually  carried  be3'0ud  itself,  and  met,  as  it  were,  in  its  own  sphere 
b}'  the  power  of  a  higher  life,  descending  into  it  from  above.  Con- 
sidered as  the  mere  passive  counterpart  of  nature  under  a  spiritual 
view — the  mirror  simply  of  its  multitudinous  forms,  the  echo  only 
of  its  manifold  voices  and  sounds — such  a  manifestation  is  indeed 
wondei'ful  in  the  highest  degree.  But  the  full  force  of  the  wonder 
comes  into  view,  onl}-  when  we  look  beyond  this,  and  see  the  mind 
to  be  at  the  same  time  a  fountain  of  power,  a  principle  of  free  spon- 
taneous action,  in  its  own  nature,  not  only  open  to  impressions  re- 


Chap.  XLI]  the  wonderful  nature  of  man  525 

oeptively  from  the  world  around,  but  capable  also  of  working  back 
upon  the  world  again,  and  as  it  were  over  against  it,  in  the  most 
original  and  independent  wa}-.     This  is  the  idea  of  the  Will. 

There  is  no  power  or  force  like  it,  under  an3'  other  form,  in  the 
system  of  creation.  Physically  considered,  the  world  is  a  consti- 
tution carried  forward  in  the  way  of  inward,  settled  and  fixed  law, 
causes  producing  effects  continuall}',  and  effects  following  causes, 
with  a  certainty  Avhicli  admits  of  no  variation  or  exception.  The 
whole  process,  in  such  view,  is  necessary,  blind  and  unfree.  So  in 
the  sphere  of  mere  lifeless  matter;  so  in  the  sphere  of  vegetation; 
and  so  in  the  sphere  also  of  aiiimal  life.  The  actions  of  animals 
are  determined  aljsolutel^'  by  influences  exerted  upon  them  from 
without,  through  their  natural  appetites  and  instincts.  Neither  is 
the  case  different  with  the  animal  nature  of  man,  in  itself  con- 
sidered. This  likewise  stands  connected  with  the  physical  world 
by  organic  relations,  which  involve  the  same  kind  of  subjection  to 
its  laws  that  is  found  to  prevail  in  lower  spheres.  Appetite,  desire, 
inclination,  passion,  in  man,  are  in  this  view,  so  ftir  as  their  origi- 
nal form  is  concerned,  responses  simply  to  other  forces  in  the  sys- 
tem of  nature,  and  as  such  include  in  themselves  neither  light  nor 
freedom. 

The  difference  here,  however,  is  the  conjunction  in  which  these 
forms  of  merely  natural  life  are  set  with  a  power  above  nature  in 
man,  which  may  indeed  lend  itself  to  their  service  in  a  base,  passive 
way,  but  whose  rightful  prerogative  it  is  rather  to  rule  them  always 
in  subserviency  to  its  own  ends.  This  power,  the  pi'actical  reason 
— the  will  in  its  proper  form — is  no  agency  that  serves  merely  to 
carry  into  effect  what  has  been  made  necessary  by  the  working  of 
causes  going  before.  If  that  were  the  case,  it  would  at  once  lose 
its  distinctive  character,  and  be  nothing  more  at  last  than  the  con- 
tinuation of  nature  itself,  under  a  new  sublimated  and  refined  form. 
l?ut  the  very  concei)tion  of  will  implies  and  involves  the  contrary 
of  this.      It  is,  b}'  its  very  constitution,  a  self-determining  power. 

It  is  no  blind,  necessary  force,  like  the  laws  of  nature,  but  a  free, 
spontaneous  activity-,  which  knows  itself,  and  muves  itself  oi)tion- 
ully  its  own  wa^- ;  giving  rise  thus  to  a  whole  universe  of  relations, 
interests,  actions  and  systems  of  action,  which  but  for  such  origi- 
nation could  have  no  existence  whatever,  and  which,  however  it  may 
be  joined  with  the  constitution  of  nature,  and  made  to  rest  upon  it 
in  some  sense  as  a  basis,  is  nevertheless  in  fact  a  new  world  al- 
together of  far  higher  and  far  more  glorious  character. 

Let  it  be  considered  only, for  a  moment,  what  this  hi/per-physical 


526  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

economy — the  moral  world  as  distmguished  from  the  world  of  na- 
ture— is  found  to  comprehend  and  contain.  It  comprises  in  itself 
all  the  powers,  functions,  and  operations  of  mind;  the  thinking  of 
men;  their  purposes  and  aims  ;  their  affections,  emotions,  and  pas- 
sions; their  acts  of  whatever  kind,  whether  inward  only  or  extend- 
ing out  into  the  surrounding  world;  the  full  unfolding  and  putting 
forth,  in  one  word,  of  all  that  is  involved  in  their  spiritual  being. 
In  it  are  embraced,  at  the  same  time,  the  idea  of  society,  the  order 
of  the  family,  the  constitution  of  the  State,  the  organization  finally 
of  the  Church;  all  social,  political,  and  religious  relations;  all  vir- 
tues and  opposing  vices;  all  human  privileges,  duties,  and  rights. 

It  is  the  sphere  emphatically,  thus,  of  whatever  is  comprehended 
in  the  conception  of  education  and  history;  being  made  up  mainly 
in  fact,  not  so  much  of  present  experiences  simph'  at  any  given 
time,  as  of  a  whole  world  rather  of  past  experiences,  consolidated 
together,  and  handed  forward  continually  from  one  generation  to 
another.  What  a  mass  of  material,  accumulated  in  this  wa3'  through 
ages,  goes  to  form  the  proper  ethical  life  of  civilized  nations— the 
historical  substance,  we  ma}'  call  it,  of  their  nationality — strangely 
treasured  up  in  their  language,  their  institutions  and  laws,  their 
manners  and  customs,  their  traditions  and  hereditary  memories  of 
the  ancient  past!  Among  animals  there  is  no  education,  and  no 
history.  The  ideas  are  purely  and  exclusively  human.  They  be- 
long only  to  the  world  of  intelligence  and  freedom. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  self-moving  nature  of  the  will,  its  inde- 
pendence of  all  outward  constraint,  its  power  to  originate  action  in 
its  own  way.  This  freedom,  however,  forms  only  one  side  of  its 
marvellous  constitution.  Under  another  view,  it  is  just  as  much 
bound  by  the  force  of  necessary  law  as  the  constitution  of  matter 
itself.  The  only  difference  in  the  two  cases  is,  that  in  nature  the 
law  carries  itself  into  effect  as  it  were  by  its  own  force,  while  in  the 
moral  world  it  cannot  go  into  effect  at  all,  unless  by  the  free  choice 
and  consent  of  the  will  itself  which  it  thus  necessitates  and  binds. 
The  necessity,  to  prevail  at  all,  must  pass  into  the  form  of  freedom. 
But  this  does  not  detract  in  the  least  from  the  idea  of  its  authority 
and  force.  The  distinction  serves  only,  in  truth,  to  clothe  it  with 
greater  dignity  and  glory. 

In  this  view,  the  law  of  nature,  in  all  its  generality  and  con- 
stanc}',  is  but  the  t3'pe,  in  a  lower  sphere,  of  the  universal  and  un- 
changeable chai'acter  of  the  law,  as  it  exists  for  freedom  in  a  higher 
sphere.  The  first  mystically  adumbrates,  for  all  thoughtful  minds, 
the  wonderful  presence  of  the  second.     Some  such  thought  seems 


ClIAP.  XLI]  THE    WONDERFUL    NATURE    OF    MAN  527 

to  hivvc  been  in  the  iniiul  of  the  ancient  Psalmist,  when  he  was 
led  to  exclaim  :  "  Forever,  O  Lord,  Thy  word  is  settled  in  heaven  ! 
Th}'  fuithfuhu'ss  is  unto  all  generations;  Thou  hast  established 
the  earth,  and  it  abideth."  How  man}'  have  been  made  to  feel  at 
times,  in  tlic  same  way,  the  sense  of  God's  glorious  moral  gov- 
ernment mirrored  upon  them  from  the  contemplation  of  the  natu- 
ral world. 

"  There  are  two  things,"  the  celebrated  philosopher  Kant  was 
accustomed  to  say,  "  which  I  can  never  sufllciently  wonder  at  and 
admire — the  starry  heavens  above  me,  and  the  moral  law  within 
me."  The  thought  is  at  once  beautiful  and  profound;  for  there 
c:in  be  no  more  fitting  image,  in  truth,  of  the  grandeur  and  sub- 
limity of  this  inward  law,  than  that  which  is  offered  to  our  gaze 
in  the  silent,  tranquil,  ever  during  majesty  of  the  stars. 

Along  with  the  presence  of  the  law  again,  in  this  department  of 
our  being,  comes  into  view  what  is,  in  some  respects,  the  most  won- 
derful part  of  our  whole  nature,  the  power  with  which  we  are  so 
familiar  under  the  name  of  conscience.  As  a  necessary  and  bind- 
ing rule  for  freedom,  it  lies  in  the  ver}^  conception  of  the  moral 
law,  that  it  should  be  able  to  assert  its  presence,  and  make  its 
authority  felt,  in  the  mind  itself,  and  not  be  brought  near  to  it 
merely  in  the  character  of  an  outward  and  foreign  force.  And  thus 
it  is  in  truth,  that  the  will  is  found  to  be  actually  autonomic,  affirm- 
ing and  laying  down  in  one  direction  the  very  rule,  which  it  feels 
itself  called  upon  to  obey  in  another.  Not  as  if  it  could  be  sup- 
posed actually  to  originate  the  law  in  this  way,  according  to  its 
own  pleasure.  That  would  be  a  monstrous  imagination,  subverting 
the  whole  idea  of  morality. 

The  will  does  not  make  the  law  ;  but  still  it  is  through  it  alone, 
that  the  law  comes  to  any  positive  legislation  in  the  soul.  In  no 
other  way,  can  the  full  force  of  the  categorical  imperative.  Thou 
.s7/«//,be  brought  fairly  home  to  its  consciousness.  What  a  strange 
spectacle,  then,  we  have  exhibited  to  us  here.  Two  forces  in  the 
same  mind,  transacting  with  one  another  in  such  solemn  personal 
way.  Here  the  will  commands ;  while  there  again  the  ver}'  same 
will  is  required  to  obey.  Nor  is  that  all.  The  power  that  legislates 
in  the  case,  goes  on  also  to  sit  in  judgment  on  its  own  conduct, 
and  then  to  execute  sentence  upon  itself  according  to  the  result  of 
such  trial.  Obedience  brings  at  once  self-approbation,  and  is  fol- 
lowed Avith  peace.  Disobedience  leads  just  as  certainly  to  self- 
condemnation  and  self-inrticted  pain.  Such  is  the  terrific  mystery 
of  conscience — the  knowing  of  (iod  brought   into  man's  knowing 


528  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

of  himself,  find  made  to  be  thus  an  inseparable  part  of  his  proper 
spiritual  being  and  life. 

We  conclude  the  whole  subject  with  the  obvious  reflection,  that 
the  richest  and  most  interesting  field  of  science  for  man  is  that 
which  is  offered  to  him  in  the  constitution  of  his  own  person,  and 
especially'  in  the  constitution  of  his  person  under  its  ethical  or 
moral  view.  The  world  may  be  worthy  of  our  thoughts  and  stud- 
ies, in  its  other  aspects  ;  but  it  can  be  properly  so,  at  all  times, 
only  as  it  is  studied,  under  such  aspects,  with  full  regard  to  what 
must  ever  be  considered  its  last  central  interest  in  the  form  now 
stated.  No  wonders  of  the  simply  outward  creation,  no  myster- 
ies of  mere  nature,  can  ever  signify  as  much  for  us,  as  the  world 
we  carry  about  with  us  continually  in  our  own  being. 


I 


CHAPTER   XLII 

DURING  this  period  the  mind  of  Dr.  Nevin,  to  a  certain  extent, 
ran  in  the  same  direction  as  that  of  Dr.  Horace  Bushnell,  of 
Hartford,  Conn.,  and  he  according!}'  gave  his  works  a  careful  study 
and  examination.  He  noticed  his  recent  boolc  on  "Nature  and  the 
Supernatural,  as  together  constituting  the  One  S3-stem  of  God,"  in 
the  April  number  of  the  Mercer'shurg  Review  for  1859,  in  an  elabo- 
rate article  on  ''The  Natural  and  the  Supernatural,"  of  which  only 
the  more  important  paragraphs  can  here  be  given. 

A  truly  interesting  work,  as  may  be  easily  presumed  at  once  from 
its  authorship  and  title.  No  subject  could  well  be  more  important, 
especially  for  the  present  time,  than  that  which  is  here  brought  into 
view;  and  there  are  few  men  better  fitted  than  Dr.  Bushnell  to  dis- 
cuss an}'  theme  of  the  sort  in  an  earnest,  vigorous,  and  manly  way. 
We  welcome  the  book,  with  all  our  heart,  as  a  most  valuable  acces- 
sion to  the  theological  literature  of  the  age,  and  trust  that  it  may 
exert  a  large  and  wide  influence  in  the  service  of  truth.  It  is  no 
hasty  production,  but  the  carefully  studied  and  well  digested  treat- 
ment of  a  great  question,  which  has  been  before  the  mind  of  the 
author  for  years,  and  on  which  plainly  he  has  bestowed  the  whole 
force  of  his  ripest  and  best  thoughts.  The  book,  therefore,  is  one 
which  requires  stud\'  also  on  the.  part  of  the  reader.  It  is  not  just 
of  the  current  literature  sort,  formed  for  the  easy  entertainment  of 
the  passing  hour.  It  grapples  with  w-hat  the  writer  holds  to  be  the 
religious  life-questions  of  tiie  age;  its  course  is  everywhere,  more 
or  less,  through  iucpiiries  wliich  are  felt  to  be  both  intricate  and 
profound.  And  yet  with  all  this,  the  work  is  never  either  heavy  or 
dull.  On  the  contrary,  it  may  be  said  to  overflow  with  genial  life. 
Dr.  Bushnell  has  contrived  to  throw  into  it  the  full  vivacit}'  and 
freshness  of  his  own  nature.  It  is  rich  throughout  with  thoughts 
that  breatlie,  an(l  words  that  glow  and  burn.  A  sort  of  poetical 
charm  is  made  to  suffuse  the  entire  progress  of  its  argument,  reliev- 
ing the  severity  of  the  discussion  and  clothing  it  oftentimes  with 
graphic  interest  and  force.  Altogether  the  book  is  one  which  de- 
serves to  live,  and  that  may  be  expected  to  take  its  place,  we  think, 
among  the  enduring  works  of  the  age.  It  is  of  an  order,  in  this 
view,  with  Hugh  Miller's  Testimoiiy  of  the  Bocks;  and  as  an  argu- 

(529) 


530  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

ment  for  the  truth  of  the  Cliristiaii  religion,  uiay  compare  favorably 
with  Reinhard's  Plan  of  the  Founder  of  Chridianity. 

So  ranch  we  ma}'  say,  without  pretending  to  endorse  in  full  the 
course  of  thought  presented  in  Dr.  Bushnell's  book.  The  worth 
and  importance  of  such  a  work  are  not  to  be  measured  simply  by 
what  may  be  considered  the  validity  of  its  opinions  at  particular 
points.  We  ma}-  find  reason  to  question  many  of  its  propositions 
— we  ma}'  feel  ourselves  constrained  to  pause  doubtfully  in  the 
presence  of  much  to  which  it  challenges  our  assent — and  yet  be 
fairly  and  rightly  bound,  notwithstanding,  to  own  and  honor  its 
superiority,  as  showij  in  the  profound  significance  of  its  general 
thesis,  the  reigning  scope  of  its  discussion,  the  reach  and  grasp  of 
its  argument  taken  as  a  whole.  The  claim  to  snch  respectful 
homage,  in  the  case  before  us,  is  one  in  regard  to  which  there  can 
be  no  dispnte. 

We  agree  fully  with  Dr.  Bushnell,  in  believing  the  tendency  of 
the  present  time  to  be  fearfully  strong  toward  Rationalism — that 
form  of  infidelity,  which  seeks  to  destroy  Christianity,  not  so  much 
in  the  way  of  direct  opposition  to  its  claims,  as  b}-  endeavoring  to 
drag  it  down  from  its  own  proper  supernatural  sphere  into  the 
sphere  of  mere  nature,  making  it  thus  to  be  nothing  more  in  the 
end  than  a  particular  phase  simply  of  natural  religion  itself.  On 
both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  we  find  a  large  amount  of  intelligence 
enlisted  oi)enly  in  the  defence  of  this  view;  seeking,  with  no  small 
measure  of  learning  and  ingenuity,  to  resolve  all  the  higher  aspects 
of  the  Gospel  into  poetry  and  myth,  and  pretending  to  bring  out 
the  full  sense  of  it  at  last  in  the  experiences  of  a  purely  human- 
itarian culture. 

But  it  would  be  a  most  inadequate  view  of  the  case,  to  suppose 
the  evil  of  such  unbelief  confined  to  any  formal  demonstrations  of 
this  sort.  As  a  silent  tendency — a  power  secretly  at  work  to  sap 
the  foundations  of  faith  and  piety — the  rationalistic  spirit  in  ques- 
tion takes  in  a  vastly  wider  range  of  action.  Multitudes,  as  Dr. 
Bushnell  observes,  are  involved  in  it  virtually  as  a  system  of 
thought,  without  being  themselves  aware  of  the  fact.  They  profess 
to  honor  Christianity  as  a  divine  revelation,  take  its  language  famil- 
iarly upon  their  lips,  persuade  themselves,  it  may  be,  that  they  con- 
tinue strictly  loyal  to  its  heavenly  authority  ;  and  yet  all  the  time 
they  are  false  in  fact  to  its  claims,  casting  it  down  from  its  proper 
excellency,  and  substituting  for  it  in  their  minds  another  order  of 
thought  altogether.  In  this  way,  we  are  surrounded  on  all  sides 
with  a  nominal  Christianitv,  which  is  little  better  in  truth  than  a 


Chap.  XLIIJ       tiik  natural  and  supp^knatiral  531 

sort  of  baptized  P:i<>"anism,  piittiuii^  ns  off' continually  with  lii'alluMi- 
isli  ideas  expressed  in  Christian  terms. 

Our  pul)lic  life  is  full  of  such  essential  iniidelity.  It  reigns  in 
our  politics.  It  has  infected  our  universal  literature.  The  period- 
ical press  floods  the  land  with  it  every  week.  It  makes  a  merit 
generally  indeed  of  being  friendly  to  religion;  but  it  is  plain  enough 
to  see,  that  what  it  takes  to  be  religion  is  something  widely  diMerent 
from  the  old  faith  of  the  Gospel  in  its  strictly  supernatural  form. 
It  is,  when  all  is  done,  naturalism  only,  of  the  poorest  kind,  dressed 
up  in  evangelical  modes  of  speech.  That  it  should  be  able  to  pass 
current  for  anything  better — that  the  public  at  large,  the  so-called 
Christian  i)ublic,  should  show  itself  so  widely  willing  to  acce])t  any 
such  authority  as  having  any  sort  of  force  in  matters  of  religion — 
is  only  itself  a  most  painful  sign  of  that  general  weakening  of  faith, 
of  which  we  are  now  si)eaking  as  the  great  moral  malady  of  the 
times.  Already  too  the  disease  has  entered  dee})  into  our  systems 
of  education;  and  there  is  but  too  much  reason  to  fear,  that  its 
worst  fruit  on  this  ground  is  yet  to  come. 

We  feel  the  full  force  of  what  Dr.  Bushnell  says  on  this  subject. 
As  an  argument  for  the  supernatural  truth  of  Christianity  against 
the  naturalistic  tendencies  of  the  age,  his  book  is  altogether  timely. 
The  evil  enters  into  all  spheres  and  departments  of  our  modern 
life.  It  needs  to  be  met  in  a  bold  and  strong  way.  '•  AVe  undertake 
the  argument,"  says  the  distinguished  author,  "from  a  solemn  con- 
viction of  its  necessity,  and  because  we  see  that  the  more  direct  ar- 
guuH'iits  and  appeals  of  religion  are  losing  their  i)Ower  over  the 
public  mind  and  conscience.  This  is  true  especially  of  the  young, 
who  pass  into  life  under  the  combined  action  of  so  many  causes, 
con -spiring  to  infuse  a  distru-it  of  whatever  is  supernatural  in  relig- 
ion. I*crsons  farther  on  in  life  are  out  of  the  reach  of  these  new 
inlhiciiccs.  and,  unless  theii' attention  is  specially  called  to  the  fact, 
have  little  sus])icion  of  what  is  going  on  in  the  mind  of  the  rising 
classes  of  the  woi'ld — more  and  more  saturated  every  day  with  this 
insidious  form  of  unbelief.  And  3'et  we  all,  with  perhaps  the  ex- 
cejition  of  a  few  who  are  too  far  on  to  suffer  from  it,  are  more  or  less 
infected  with  the  same  tendency.  Like  an  atmosphere,  it  begins  to 
envelop  the  common  mind  of  the  world.  We  fre(iuentiy  detect  its 
influence  in  the  practical  difliculties  of  the  3'oung  members  of  the 
churches,  who  do  not  even  suspect  the  true  cause  themselves.  In- 
deed, tiiere  is  nothing  more  common  than  to  hear  arguments  ad- 
vanced, and  illustrations  ottered  by  the  most  evangelical  preachers, 
that  have  no  force  or  meaning,  save  what  they  get  from  the  current 


532  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

naturalism  of  the  day.  We  have  even  heard  a  distinguished  and 
carefully  orthodox  preacher  deliver  a  discourse,  the  very  doctrine 
of  which  was  inevitable,  unqualified  naturalism.  Logically  taken, 
and  carried  out  to  its  proper  result,  Christianity  could  have  had  no 
ground  of  standing  left, — so  little  did  the  preacher  himself  under- 
stand the  true  scope  of  his  doctrine,  or  the  mischief  that  was  be- 
ginning to  infect  his  conceptions  of  the  Christian  truth." 

Dr.  Bushnell's  argument  for  the  supernatural  is  made  to  rest  cen- 
trally upon  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ.  This  constitutes  its  main 
beauty  and  force.  It  forms  the  best  distinction,  and  greatest  merit, 
of  the  later  modern  theology  generally,  so  far  as  it  shows  itself  to 
be  possessed  of  power  and  life,  that  it  seeks  more  and  moi'e  to  make 
Christ  in  this  way  the  principle  of  all  faith  and  knowledge;  taking 
up  thus  anew,  as  it  were,  the  grand  Christological  views  of  the  Ni- 
cene  age,  and  laboring  to  carry  them  out  in  full  order  and  harmony 
to  their  last  results.  Great  praise  is  due  here  to  the  mighty  genius 
of  Sehleiermacher;  who,  however  defective  his  own  views  of  the 
person  of  Christ  were,  may  be  said  to  have  inaugurated  a  new  era 
of  theology  in  German}^  by  forcing  attention  to  this  point  as  the 
true  beginning  of  all  reality  and  certainty  in  religion.  Under  the 
inspiration  of  this  thought,  all  theological  studies  there  might  seem 
to  have  started  again  into  fresh  vigorous  life,  rising  from  the  tomb 
into  which  they  had  been  cast  by  the  melancholy  reign  of  Ration- 
alism in  previous  times.  A  new  interest  was  felt  to  be  infused  into 
all  the  fixcts  and  doctrines  of  revelation,  by  the  light  which  was 
shed  upon  them  from  the  acknowledged  centre  of  the  Christian 
system.  The}'  acquired  a  deeper  significance,  and  became  in  this 
way  subjects  for  more  earnest  inquiry  and  profound  study.  Christo- 
logical thinking — that  which,  instead  of  looking  primarily  to  the 
things  taught  and  done  by  Christ,  fixes  its  whole  gaze  at  once  on 
the  mj^steiy  of  His  person,  the  glorious  fact  of  the  Incarnation,  and 
uses  this  as  a  commentary  and  key  for  the  right  understanding  of 
all  things  besides — has  come  to  pervade  and  rule  more  or  less  all 
spheres  of  religious  science. 

The  method  is  so  plainly  founded  in  the  very  nature  of  Chris- 
tianity', and  grows  forth  so  immediately  from  the  apprehension  of 
its  supernatural  chai-acter,  that  it  must  prevail  more  and  more,  not 
only  in  Germany,  but  in  all  other  countries  also,  wherever  it  may 
be  felt  necessary  to  deal  earnestly  with  the  mysteries  of  religion, 
over  against  the  growing  naturalism  of  the  age.  If  these  are  to 
be  upheld  successfully  as  objects  of  faith,  transcending  the  con- 
stitution of  nature,  it  can  only  be  by  falling  back  upon  their  ulti- 


I 


Chap.  XLII]       the  natural  and  slteknatlral  533 

mute  ground  in  Christ,  and  asserting,  in  the  first  place,  the  absolute 
verity  of  His  person,  as  the  principle  and  source  of  what  is  thus  to 
be  regarded  as  a  new  creation  altogether.  Not, only  our  systematic 
divinity,  but  our  horailetic  teaching  also,  needs  to  be  fortified  in 
tliis  way  against  the  downward  tendencj'  of  the  times,  by  being 
brought  back  to  what  is  substantial!}-  the  method  of  the  old 
Apostles'  Creed — that  most  sinijjle,  but  at  the  same  time  most 
grand  and  sublime  confession,  into  which,  as  a  mould,  the  faith  of 
the  universal  Church  was  cast  in  the  beginning. 

The  position  of  Christ,  His  relations  to  the  world,  all  the  aspects 
of  His  character,  all  His  works  and  all  His  pretensions,  are  brought 
into  view  everywhere  as  being  in  full  unison  and  harmony  with  His 
l)old  claim  to  a  heavenly  and  divine  origin.  His  birth  is  by  the 
Holy  Ghost ;  on  which  account  He  is  called  the  Son  of  God.  Angels 
herald  His  advent  into  the  world.  The  powers  of  heaven  descend 
upon  Him  at  His  baptism.  He  is  no  prophet  simply  among  men, 
closing  the  Old  Testament  line,  but  the  bearer  of  truth  and  grace 
in  His  own  person.  A  new  order  of  existence  opens  upon  the 
world,  in  the  m^'stery  of  His  being.  In  Him  was  life — life  in  its 
original,  fontal  form — and  the  life  became  the  light  of  men.  It 
was  not  His  oflice.  therefore,  primarily,  to  publish  the  truth  as 
something  diflferent  from  Himself,  to  mediate  between  earth  and 
heaven,  man  and  God,  in  any  mere  outward  wa\-.  His  own  being 
constituted  the  deepest  and  last  sense  of  the  Gospel,  the  burden  of 
its  overwhelming  mystery.  "  I  am  the  Way,"  we  hear  Him  saying, 
"the  Truth,  and  the  Life" — not  the  index  simply  to  these  things, 
but  the  actual  presence  and  power  of  the  things  themselves.  "  I 
am  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life" — not  the  promise  and  pledge  only 
of  such  glorious  boon,  but  the  full  realization  of  it  as  a  fact  now 
actually  at  hand  in  my  person.  For  "he  that  believeth  in  me, 
though  he  were  dead,  j^et  shall  he  live ;  and  whosoever  liveth  and 
believeth  in  me  shall  never  die."  Again,  "He  that  believeth  in 
me  hath  everlasting  life — Whoso  eateth  my  flesh  and  drinketh  my 
blood,  hath  eternal  life;  and  I  will  raise  him  up  at  the  last  day." 
God  was  in  Him,  reconciling  the  world  unto  Himself  He  is  the 
propitiation  for  our  sins — our  righteousness — our  peace — the  or- 
ganism of  our  redemption — the  everlasting  theatre  of  our  salvation. 
lie  stands  in  the  world  a  vast  stupendous  miracle — the  miracle  of 
a  new  creation.  He  is  greater  than  all  the  powers,  higher  than  all 
the  glories  of  the  natural  world.  Nay,  He  is  before  all  things,  and 
1)V  Him,  and  in  Him,  all  tilings  consist.  His  life,  therefore,  included 
in  itself,  from  the  beginning,  even  under  its  human  form,  the  prin- 


534  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

ciple  of  full  victory  over  all  the  vanity  and  misery  Avhicli  are  in  the 
world  through  sin  ;  so  that  when  He  w^ent  down  into  the  grave,  and 
descended  into  hades,  it  was  only  that  He  might  return  again,  lead- 
ing captivity  captive,  and  ascend  up  on  high,  to  inaugurate  His 
kingdom,  in  its  proper  spiritual  form,  as  a  new  immortal  constitu- 
tion, against  w^hich  the  gates  of  hell  should  haA^e  no  power  to  pre- 
vail to  the  end  of  time. 

So  lofty,  so  wide,  so  every  way  large,  beyond  all  the  measures  of 
man's  merely  natural  life,  or  simply  human  history,  are  the  terms 
and  representations  in  which  the  Gospel  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ,  in  wonderful,  unfaltering  consisteuc}'  with  itself 
throughout,  bears  witness  to  its  own  origin,  character,  and  power. 
If  it  be  not  in  the  fullest  sense — first  in  the  person  of  Christ  Him- 
self, and  then  in  the  outworkings  and  ongoings  of  His  grace  and 
power  in  the  system  of  Christianity  as  a  whole — the  presence  of  a 
new  supernatni'al  life  in  the  world,  an  order  of  existence  which  was 
not  in  it  before,  and  which  is  not  in  it  still  beyond  the  reach  and 
range  of  this  fact;  if  it  be  not  this,  we  say,  and  nothing  short  of 
this,  then  must  it  be  denounced  at  once  as  being  the  most  daring 
and  wicked  imposture  ever  practiced  upon  the  credulity  of  the 
human  race. 

But  let  an}'  one  pause  now,  to  consider  what  an  amount  of  peril 
is  involved  in  so  vast  and  broad  a  claim,  and  to  what  an  ordeal 
Christianity  has  necessarily  subjected  itself,  in  presuming  to  take 
this  loft}^  position,  and  thus  binding  itself  to  satisfy  in  full  the 
terms  and  conditions  of  its  own  world-embracing  problem.  A 
consistent  fiction  is  hard  in  any  case,  where  it  has  to  do  with  con- 
crete realities  under  a  known  form,  and  is  allowed  to  extend  itself 
at  all  to  specific  details  ;  but  it  becomes,  of  course,  more  and  more 
difficult,  and  at  last  is  found  to  be  utterly  impi'acticable,  in  propor- 
tion precisely  as  the  points  to  be  met  and  answered  in  this  way  be- 
come more  and  more  significant,  multitudinous,  and  complex.  Sup- 
pose Christianity  then  to  be  such  an  invention — a  bold  hypothesis 
merel}',  got  up  to  solve  the  inmost  meaning  of  the  world's  life,  and 
to  play  off"  in  spectral  style  a  supernatural  economy  of  salvation, 
commensurate  with  all  the  wants  and  aspirations  of  our  ftxllen  race 
— and  how  certainly-  may  it  not  be  expected  to  break  down,  by  its 
own  incongruities  and  contradictions,  almost  immediately  at  every 
point?  Never  did  a  scheme  of  religion,  surely,  offer  itself  of  its 
own  accord  to  a  more  searching  trial  of  its  merits  and  claims. 

For  the  supernatural  here  is  no  transient  phenomenon  merely, 
no  fantastic  avatar,  no  theophanj^  only  in  the  Old  Testament  style; 


{ 


Chap.  XLII]       the  natural  and  isuPEUNATURAL  535 

rnuch  less  a  doctrine  simply,  or  theosophic  speculation.  It  is  made 
to  challenge  our  faith  and  homage,  as  an  abiding  fact,  linking  itself 
organically'  with  the  general  life  of  the  world,,  and  canning  it  out 
historically  to  its  highest  and  last  sense.  It  must  then  be  supremely 
natural,  as  well  as  overwhelmingly  supernatural ;  no  product  of 
nature  plainly,  and  yet  in  such  harmony  with  it,  that  it  shall  seem 
to  be  at  the  same  time  its  full  outbursting  glory  and  necessary  per- 
fection. The  relation  between  God's  first  creation,  and  that  which 
claims  to  be  in  this  way  God's  second  creation,  may  not  be  con- 
ceived of  as  contradictor^-,  violent,  or  abrupt.  The  divine  economy 
which  embraces  both — proceeding,  as  it  does,  from  the  mind  of  Him 
to  whom  all  his  works  are  known  from  the  beginning — must  be  a 
single  system  at  last,  in  absolute  harmony  with  itself  throughout. 

The  whole  constitution  of  the  world,  therefore,  both  physical 
and  nioral,  must  be  found  to  come  to  its  proper  conclusion  in 
Christ,  showing  him  to  be  in  ver}-  deed  the  Alpha  and  Omega,  the 
Beginning  and  the  End,  of  all  God's  works. 

The  phjsical  must  show  itself  every  where  the  mirror  of  the 
spiritual  and  heavenly,  as  these  come  out  fully  at  last  only  in  the 
form  of  Christianit}',  not  as  having  any  power  to  make  them 
known  by  its  own  light  originally  ;  but  as  answering  to  them,  in 
the  waj'  of  universal  parable,  when  it  comes  to  be  shone  upon  from 
their  higher  s])here ;  even  as  to  the  mind  of  Christ  Himself,  the 
birds  of  the  air,  and  the  flowers  of  the  field,  become  types  and 
sj'mbols  of  righteousness  at  once,  the  moment  they  are  needed  for 
any  such  purpose. 

In  its  whole  organization  again,  the  ph^'sical,  as  being  plainly-  a 
progressive  order  of  things  reaching  towards  the  unity  of  some 
common  end,  must  put  on  the  character  of  a  ground  preparation 
and  prophecy,  from  first  to  last,  looking  continually  to  the  Advent 
of  Christ  as  the  only  suflicient  fulfilment  of  its  sense.  This  it  will 
be  found  to  do,  if  it  have  no  power  to  stop  in  its  own  order  or  to 
come  to  an  end  in  itself,  but  be  forced  and  driven,  as  it  were,  up- 
wnrd  and  forward  alwa3'S,  from  one  stage  and  level  of  existence  to 
another — each  lower  range  foreshadowing  still  the  necessary  ap- 
jiroach  of  a  higher — till  it  gains  its  full  summit  finally  in  man  ;  and 
so  transcends  itself,  if  we  may  use  such  an  expression,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  new  morni  world,  which  afterwards  again  shows  itself  in 
its  own  turn  unable  in  like  manner  to  come  to  an}'  pause  or  rest, 
till  it  is  filled  out  and  made  complete  by  the  supernatural  grace  of 
the  Gospel. 

It  will  be  then,  more  especially,  as  tried  by  the  actual  conditions 


536  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

of  this  moral  world — the  circumstances  and  necessities  of  our  gen- 
eral human  life — that  the  Christian  sj^stem,  in  the  view  now  under 
consideration,  must  pass  through  its  severest  ordeal.  Its  theory 
of  humanit}^  must  be  such  as  to  fall  in  plainly  with  the  actual  con- 
dition of  humanity  in  the  world  ;  while  all  the  lines  of  history',  and 
all  the  deeper  forces  of  man's  life,  shall  be  found  everywhere  strug- 
gling toward  it.  and  either  consciously  or  unconsciously  bearing 
witness  to  its  claims. 

The  general  fact  of  man's  sin  and  misery  must  be  such,  as  to 
agree  with  the  h\'-pothesis  of  a  strictly  supernatural  redemption. 
If  the  evil  were  found  to  be  of  a  superficial  character  only,  neither 
deeper  nor  broader  in  fact  than  the  measure  of  our  life  in  its  ordi- 
nary natural  form — and  in  such  view  capable, 'accordingly,  of  being 
surmounted  in  some  wa}^  by  the  poAvers  and  possibilities  of  this 
life  in  its  own  sphere, — the  idea  of  a  redemption  descending  into  it 
from  above,  in  the  form  of  a  new  creation  brought  to  pass  by  the 
mystery  of  the  Incarnation,  would  be  convicted  at  once  of  being 
unreasonable  and  false.  To  justify  any  such  nwstery,  it  must  aj)- 
pear  that  sin  is  a  disorder  which  underlies  the  universal  nature  of 
man  as  it  now  stands  ;  that  it  is  itself  a  sort  of  supernatural  fall 
or  lapse  in  his  life ;  that  the  whole  present  order  of  his  existence 
is  subjected  to  vanity  and  death  by  reason  of  it ;  that  all  other 
remedial  agencies  brought  to  bear  upon  the  case,  philosophical,  ed- 
ucational, political,  socialistic,  and  such  like,  have  proved  them- 
selves thus  far,  and  must  prove  themselves,  utterly  inadequate  to 
its  demands,  coming,  as  it  were,  infinitely  short  of  the  last  ground 
and  seat  of  the  evil ;  that  it  can  be  conquered,  therefore,  and  rolled 
back  in  its  consequences,  if  conquered  ever  at  all,  only  by  a  force 
deeper  and  more  comprehensive  than  the  whole  order  of  the  world 
in  its  natural  view,  which,  as  such,  shall  show  itself  sufficient  at 
the  same  time  to  break  through  this  order  altogether,  and  to  rise 
above  it,  abolishing  death  itself,  and  bringing  life  and  immortality 
to  light.  The  New  Testament  doctrine  of  Christ  involved  neces- 
sarily a  corresponding  doctrine  of  man.  No  Pelagian  Anthro- 
pology, den}  ing  or  slurring  over  the  fact  of  Original  Sin,  can  move 
hand  in  hand,  in  one  and  the  same  line,  with  a  strictly  theanthropic 
Christology. 

It  must  appear  still  farther,  if  Christianity  be  true,  that  the  re- 
ligious life  of  the  world  generall}^  under  what  ma}^  be  denominated 
its  merely-  natural  form,  looks  toward  it,  calls  for  it,  reaches  after 
it  in  all  manner  of  ways,  and  finds  the  burden  of  its  dark  riddle 
fully  solved  at  last  only  in  its  august  presence.     Rooted  as  they 


Chap.  XLII]      the  natural  and  supernatural  537 

are  in  the  same  ground,  the  constitution  of  human  nature  itself,  all 
religions  must  have  to  some  extent  a  common  character,  must  be 
concerned  with  the  same  problems,  must  work  themselves  out  into 
more  or  less  analogous  results.  The  relation  then  of  the  absolutely 
true  religion  to  religions  that  are  false,  can  not  be  regarded  as  one 
of  abrupt  and  total  difference;  it  should  be  taken  rather  to  resem- 
ble the  relation  that  holds  between  man  in  the  natural  creation  and 
the  manifold  forms  of  animal  life  in  the  world  below  him — which, 
however  far  they  may  lall  short  of  his  perfection,  carry  in  them- 
selves, notwithstanding,  though  it  may  be  in  very  distorted  and 
fantastic  style,  some  portion  still  of  the  idea  which  is  finally  dis- 
closed in  his  person,  and  thus  join  in  foreshadowing  this  darkly 
from  all  sides  as  their  own  last  end  and  only  proper  meaning. 
False  religions,  in  such  view,  should  open  a  wide  field  of  analogical 
comjiarison,  serving  to  establish  the  idea  of  religion  in  its  true 
form;  not  as  leading  over  to  it  in  their  own  order,  not  as  being  on 
the  same  plane  with  it  in  any  sense;  but  as  bringing  into  view 
wants,  aspirations,  (questions,  problems,  soul-mysteries  in  every 
shape,  which  only  the  true  religion  at  last  is  able  fully  to  "satisfy 
and  solve.  Should  the  grand  supernatural  facts  and  doctrines  of 
Christianity  seem  to  be  met  in  this  wa}^  with  dull  echoes  and  wild 
visionary  caricatures  of  their  heavenly-  sense,  in  the  mythologies 
of  the  heathen  world,  the  fact  would  form  certainly  no  ground  of 
objection  to  its  claims,  but  only  a  powerful  argument  in  their  favor. 
Heathenism  oiujht  to  be,  in  such  manner,  through  it  whole  wide  em- 
pire of  darkness  and  sin,  an  unconscious  prophecy  of  Him,  who  pro- 
claims Himself  the  desire  of  all  nations  and  the  light  of  the  world. 

All  History  again  must  come  to  its  proper  unit}'  in  Christ,  if  He 
be  indeed  what  he  is  made  to  be  in  the  Gospel.  Here,  as  in  the 
constitution  of  Nature,  God  must  have  a  plan  in  harmony  with  it- 
self throughout ;  and  this  plan  can  not  possibly  go  aside  from  His 
main  thought  and  puri)ose  in  the  government  of  the  world.  It 
must  centre  in  the  Incarnation. 

Then  after  all  this,  what  a  range  of  comparison  and  trial  for  the 
Christian  system  is  presented  to  us  in  the  general  economy  of 
Revelation  itself!  For  this  is  no  single  or  narrow  fact  simply;  nor 
yet  a  multitude  of  separate,  disjointed  facts;  but  a  vast  and  mighty 
organization  of  facts  rather,  involving  the  most  manifold  relations, 
and  reaching  through  long  ages  itack  to  the  very  beginning  of  the 
world.  Religion  in  this  form  is  exhibited  to  us  under  ditlerent  dis- 
pensations, and  3'et  as  being  always  the  same,  from  the  first  obscure 
promise  in  the  garden  of  Eden  down  to  the  fulness  of  time,  when 
34 


538  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

the  Word  became  Flesh  and  tabernacled  among  men  in  the  person 
of  Jesus  Christ.  "  God,"  we  are  told,  "  who  at  sundry  times  and  in 
divers  manners  spake  in  time  past  unto  the  fathers  by  the  prophets, 
hath  in  these  last  days  spoken  unto  us  by  His  Son,  whom  he  hath 
appointed  heir  of  all  things,  by  whom  also  he  made  the  worlds." 
All  these  voices  of  old  then — in  paradise,  before  the  flood  and  after 
the  flood,  through  the  patriarchs,  in  the  giving  of  the  law,  and  by 
the  whole  long  line  of  the  prophets  from  Moses  down  to  the  minis- 
try of  John  the  Baptist — must  come  together  at  last  in  Christ  as 
their  only  full  sense  and  necessary  end.  The  correspondence  can- 
not limit  itself  to  a  few  predictions  and  t3'pes,  put  forward  here 
and  there  in  an  abstract  outward  way ;  it  must  enter  into  the  uni- 
versal structure  of  the  entire  revelation.  The  Old  Testament 
throughout  must  be,  not  only  in  full  harmony  with  itself,  but  in 
full  organic  union  at  the  same  time  with  the  central  idea  of  the  New 
Testament;  so  that  everywhere,  in  all  its  oracles,  histories,  and  in- 
stitutions, it  shall  be  found  prefiguring  this,  reaching  toward  it, 
and  laboring  as  it  were  to  find  in  it  its  own  true  rest  and  glorious 
consundmation. 

The  main  weight  of  the  argument  for  the  supernatural,  in  Dr. 
Bushnell's  book,  is  made  to  rest  on  Christ,  as  being  the  grand  first 
principle  of  proof  in  this  order  of  existence — an  order  which  com- 
pletes itself  fully  at  last  only  in  the  fact  of  the  Incarnation.  "  The 
character  and  doctrine  of  Jesus,"  we  are  told,  "are  the  sun  that 
holds  all  the  minor  orbs  of  revelation  to  their  places,  and  pours  a 
sovereign  self-evidencing  light  into  all  religious  knowledge."  Still, 
before  coming  to  this,  the  first  part  of  the  work  is  very  properly 
occupied  with  the  subject  under  a  more  general  view;  the  purpose 
being  to  show  that  the  supernatural  itself  is  not  something  abso- 
lutely foreign  and  strange  to  the  constitution  of  the  world  in  its 
natural  form,  but  an  order  rather  which  is  anticipated  and  called 
for  by  this,  and  that  comes  out  at  last,  therefore,  in  full  harmony 
with  its  deepest  wants,  in  full  explication,  we  may  say,  of  its  in- 
most meaning  and  sense. 

Here  we  find  a  great  deal,  of  course,  that  is  entitled  to  our  ad- 
miring interest  and  attention,  as  going  to  establish,  in  the  way  of 
analogical  and  presumptive  reasoning,  both  the  possibility  and  the 
necessity  of  the  supernatural,  considered  as  being  the  proper  com- 
plement or  filling  out  of  the  natural — both  joining  to  constitute 
what  the  book  denominates  "the  one  system  of  God."  The  argu- 
ment, however,  as  conducted  b}-  Dr.  Bushnell,  is  made  to  involve 
and  assert  some  things  which  it  seems  to  us  not  easy  to  allow. 


Chap.  XLII]      the  natural  and  supernatural  539 

In  the  first  phice,  we  demur  to  his  line  of  distinction  between 
the  n:itural  and  the  supernatural.  Nature  he  defines  to  be  the 
simply  physical  order  of  the  world,  made  up  of  causes  and  effects 
flowing  in  constant  succession,  b^'  a  necessit}'  that  comes  from 
witliin  tlie  scheme  itself;  in  which  view,  we  are  told,  "that  is  super- 
natural, whatever  it  be,  that  is  either  not  in  the  chain  of  natural 
cause  and  effect,  or  which  acts  on  the  chain  of  cause  and  eff"ect  in 
nature,  from  without  the  chain."  In  this  way,  the  supernatural  is 
brought  to  assume  at  once  a  most  familiar  ever}'^  day  character,  by 
entering  into  the  very  conception  of  our  own  personality ;  for  this, 
as  involving  intelligence  and  will,  is  not  under  the  law  of  cause 
and  effect  in  the  manner  of  the  simply  ph3'sical  world,  but  carries 
in  itself  the  power  of  acting  on  the  course  of  this  law  from  with- 
out, in  a  free  self-determining  way,  so  as  to  produce  results,  that 
nature  of  itself,  as  here  defined,  could  not  bring  to  pass. 

Now  it  is  perfectly  fair  to  make  use  of  this  relation  of  mind  to 
matter  in  the  world,  as  an  analogical  argument  for  the  possibility 
of  an  intervention,  tliat  shall  be  found  descending  into  the  world 
miraculously  from  a  higher  sphere.  But  it  is  pushing  the  matter 
too  far,  Ave  think,  to  make  the  first  relation  of  one  order,  and  paral- 
lel in  full,  with  the  second.  That  is  not  the  common  view  of  the 
case  certainl}-;  and  the  interest  of  the  supernatural  is  likel}'  to  lose 
by  it  in  the  end,  it  strikes  us,  much  more  than  it  may  seem  at  first 
sight  to  gain.  As  distinguished  from  the  supernatural,  in  the  old 
theological  sense — which  is  at  the  same  time  here  also  the  popular 
sense — the  natural  includes  in  its  conception  a  great  deal  more  than 
the  simply  material  and  physical.  The  term  is  often  used  indeed 
to  express  the  idea  of  difference  from  the  moral;  but  never  so  as 
to  refer  this  last  to  the  supernatural.  When  that  distinction  is  to 
be  expressed,  the  moral  itself  is  made  to  fall  at  once,  along  with 
the  i^hysical,  into  the  economy  of  nature.  This  includes  in  its  con- 
stitution mind  as  well  as  matter,  self-determining  forces  or  powers 
as  well  as  simply  passive  chains  of  cause  and  effect. 

Man  belongs  primarily  to  the  present  world ;  he  is  incorpoi'ated 
into  it  organically  from  his  l)irth;  his  relations  to  it  are  part  of  its 
l)roper  system,  quite  as  much  as  the  conditions  and  laws  of  things 
below  liim.  True,  he  iiossesses  in  himself,  at  the  same  time,  the 
capacity  of  a  higher  life,  original  and  constitutional  relations  to  an 
order  of  existence  far  more  glorious  than  the  present  world,  the 
powers  of  which  must  be  brought  to  bear  upon  him  in  a  most  real 
way,  if  he  is  to  fulfil  at  last  the  great  puri)ose  of  his  creation.  But 
this  does  not  of  itself  lift  him  out  of  the  order  of  nature.     It  shows 


540  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

onl)-  how  truly  he  is  in  it,  as  needing  thus  the  power  of  the  super- 
natural, under  an  objective  form,  to  perfect  his  existence  in  that 
higher  view. 

We  are  by  no  means  satisfied,  in  the  next  place,  with  Dr.  Bush- 
nell's  theory-  of  the  origin  of  evil.  Sin,  if  we  understand  him 
rightly,  is  not  only  a  bad  possibility  in  any  such  world  as  ours,  but 
a  tremendous  necessit}'.  He  holds  indeed  that  our  first  parents 
were  created  in  a  state  of  "constituent  perfection,"  having  an  in- 
ward fitness  and  disposition  for  good,  that  served  to  carry  them 
toward  it  spontaneously  without  or  before  deliberation.  But  holi- 
ness in  such  form  can  have  no  sufficient  strength  or  securit^^ 
"Deliberation,  when  it  comes,  as  come  it  must,  will  be  the  inevi- 
table fall  of  it;  and  then  when  the  side  of  counsel  in  them  is  suflfi- 
ciently  instructed  by  that  fi\ll  and  the  bitter  sorrow  it  yields,  and 
the  holy  freedom  is  restored,  it  ma}^  be  or  become  an  eternally  en- 
during principle.  Spontaneit}'  in  good,  without  counsel,  is  weak; 
counsel  and  deliberative  choice,  without  spontaneit}',  are  only  a 
character  begun ;  issued  in  spontaneity,  they  are  the  solid  reality 
of  everlasting  good."  It  does  not  help  the  case  materially,  to  say 
that  there  was  no  positiA^e  ground  or  cause  for  sin  in  man's  nature ; 
and  that  our  first  parents  fell  by  their  own  free  choice.  The  diflfl- 
cult}'  is,  that  their  free  choice  is  supposed  here  to  be  so  circum- 
stanced, in  the  waj'  of  "privative  conditions,"  as  to  be  absolutely 
shut  up  to  this  conclusion  and  no  other.  "The  certainty  of  their 
sin,"  we  are  told,  "is  originally  involved  in  their  spiritual  training 
as  powers."  Their  condition  privative  was  such  as  to  involve 
"their  certain  lapse  into  evil." 

Sin  is  made  to  be  thus  a  necessary  transitional  stage,  in  the  pro- 
cess of  full  moral  development.  The  condition  of  man  in  Paradise 
was  not,  and  could  not  be,  a  direct  onward  movement  in  its  own 
form  to  confirmed  holiness,  and  so  to  glory,  honor,  and  eternal  life. 
It  was  necessary-  that  he  should  taste  evil,  in  order  to  become  after- 
wards intelligently  and  resolutely  good.  His  innocence  could  be 
strengthened  into  its  full  ripe  virtue,  only  by  being  required  to  de- 
scend into  the  rough  arena  of  the  world  through  the  fall,  for  the 
purpose  of  needful  discipline  and  probation.  This  is  not  a  new 
thought  by  an}-  means.  We  recognize  in  it  the  familiar  face  of  a 
speculation,  which  in  one  form  or  another  has  made  itself  alto- 
gether common  in  much  of  the  thinking  of  modern  Germany.  But 
we  do  not  consider  it  for  this  reason  any  the  less  wrong.  It  agrees 
not  with  the  old  doctrine  of  the  Church  on  the  subject;  and  the 
natural  sense  of  the  Bible  is  against  it.     It  turns  the  Garden  of 


Chap.  XLII]      the  natural,  and  supernatural  541 

Eden  into  a  mere  allegory  or  myth.  It  seats  the  necessit}'  of  sin  in 
the  very  constitution  of  the  world  itself;  a  view,  which  goes  at 
once  to  overthrow  its  character  as  sin,  making  it  indeed  the  fruit 
of  man's  freedom  in  form,  but  so  conditioning  this  freedom,  that  it 
is  found  to  be  only  another  name  at  last  for  what  is  in  fact  inevi- 
table fate. 

Dr.  Bushnell  carries  his  view  of  the  certainty  of  man's  fall  so  far, 
as  to  hold  that  the  entire  natural  constitution  of  the  world  was 
ordered  and  established  b}-  God  from  the  beginning  with  reference 
to  that  terrible  fact;  which  in  such  view,  therefore,  could  be  no 
doubtful  or  uncertain  contingency  in  anj-  sense,  but  must  be  con- 
sidered rather  as  forming  from  the  very  start  the  fixed  central  pivot 
and  hinge,  we  may  nny^  on  which  the  whole  plan  of  the  world  was 
made  to  turn.  Sin  thus  has  its  disordering  consequences  in  the 
natural  creation,  not  simply  as  they  are  found  coming  afte?'  it  in 
time;  but  also,  on  a  much  broader  scale  it  would  seem,  as  the^'  have 
been  made  in  God's  plan  to  go  before  it,  in  the  form  of  dispositions 
and  arrangements  contrived  prospectively  to  anticipate  its  advent, 
and  to  lead  over  to  it  finall}-  as  the  full  interpretation  of  their  own 
sense. 

Even  the  long  geologic  ages,  stretching  away  back  of  the  Adamic 
creation,  are  taken  to  be  prelusive  throughout  in  this  waj-  of  the 
surel}^  coming  fact  of  sin.  "  This  whole  tossing,  rending,  recom- 
posing  process,  that  we  call  geology,"  our  author  tells  us,  "symbol- 
izes evidently,  as  in  highest  reason  it  should,  the  grand  spiritual 
catastrophe  and  the  Christian  new  creation  of  man;  which, both  to- 
gether, comprehend  the  problem  of  mind,  and  so  the  final  causes  or 
last  ends  of  all  God's  works.  What  we  see,  is  the  beginning  con- 
versing with  the  end,  and  Eternal  Forethought  reaching  across  the 
tottering  mountains  and  boiling  seas,  to  unite  beginning  and  end 
together.  So  that  we  may  hear  the  grinding  layers  of  the  rocks 
singing  harshly : 

Of  man's  first  disobedience  and  the  fruit 
Of  that  forbidden  tree — 

and  all  the  long  eras  of  desolation,  and  refitted  bloom  and  beauty, 
represented  in  the  registers  of  the  world,  are  but  the  epic  in  stone 
of  man's  great  history,  before  the  time." 

On  all  this,  we  venture  here  no  particular  criticism.  The  subject, 
in  the  hands  of  T)r.  Bushnell,  is  full  of  imagination  and  poetry, 
while  it  is  made  to  overflow  at  the  same  time  with  rich  suggestive 
thought.  Our  great  embarrassment  with  it  is,  that,  b}^  making  the 
universal  order  of  the  world  dependent  centrally  upon  the  fall  of 


542  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

man,  and  the  introduction  of  sin,  it  makes  this  no  less  necessary 
than  the  geologic  cataclysms,  that  owe  their  existence  to  it  antici- 
patively  so  man}'  ages  before.  Calvin's  supralapsarianism,  and  the 
pantheistic  world-progress  of  Hegel,  seem  to  us  always  to  run  out 
here  to  the  same  conclusion,  a  Manichean  notion  of  sin  on  the  one 
hand,  and  as  the  necessary  counterpart  of  this,  a  Gnostic  concep- 
tion of  redemption  on  the  other. 

Through  whatever  stages  of  imperfection  and  disorder  our  world 
ma^'  have  passed  previously  to  the  Mosaic  creation  described  in  the 
first  chapter  of  Genesis,  we  know  that  it  was  then  at  least  pro- 
nounced by  God  himself  to  be  in  all  respects  "very  good."  There 
can  be  no  doubt,  too,  that  this  goodness,  in  the  view  of  the  sacred 
narrative,  was  held  to  consist  in  its  full  correspondence  with  the 
nature  of  man  as  he  stood  before  the  fall.  The  world  was  good, 
not  in  the  light  of  a  penitentiary  prepared  beforehand  to  suit  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  case  in  a  state  of  sin,  but  as  a  fit  theatre  for  the 
free  harmonious  development  of  his  life  in  a  state  of  innocence. 
How  the  fall  wrought  to  disturb  this  original  order,  is  of  course  a 
great  m^'stery.  It  may  have  been  largely  by  changes  and  priva- 
tions induced  upon  the  nature  of  man  himself,  causing  the  world  to 
be  in  its  relations  to  him  something  wholl}'  different  from  what  it 
would  be,  if  he  were  not  thus  hurled  down  from  his  first  estate,  and 
making  it  impossible  for  him  even  to  conceiA^e  now  of  what  might 
be  comprehended  for  him  in  an}-  such  normal  order.  One  thing  is 
certain;  had  he  continued  sinless,  the  law  of  death,  as  it  prevails  in 
nature,  could  not  have  extended  itself  to  his  person  ;  and  how  much 
of  superiority  this  might  have  involved,  in  other  respects,  to  the 
constitutional  vanity  and  misery  of  the  world  as  Ave  now  find  it,  no 
one  ma}'  pretend  surely  to  say. 

Dr.  Bushnell's  idea  of  the  necessity  of  sin  extends  logically  to  all 
worlds.  Even  the  good  angels,  spoken  of  in  the  Scriptures,  he 
tells  us,  "for  aught  that  appears,  have  all  been  passed  through  and 
brought  up  out  of  a  fall,  as  the  redeemed  of  mankind  will  be."  The 
celebrated  Christian  philosopher,  Richard  Rothe — one  of  the  pro- 
foundest  thinkers  of  the  age — adopts  the  same  thought,  we  remem- 
ber, in  his  Theological  Ethics.  We  let  it  pass  here  without  further 
remark. 

We  have  been  somewhat  surprised  to  find  Dr.  Bushnell  denjang 
also  the  proper  personality  of  Satan.  He  allows  the  existence  of 
evil  spirits ;  but  is  not  Milling  to  admit  the  idea  of  their  organiza- 
tion under  anj'  single  head.  Satan,  he  tells  us,  is  a  collectiA'e  term 
simply,  designating  "the  all  or  total  of  bad  minds  and  powers." 


Chap.  XLII]      the  natural  and  supernatural  543 

This  is  neither  1»ililieal,  we  think,  nor  ecclesiastical — though  it  he 
supported,  curiously  enough,  hy  the  authority  of  Davenport,  "the 
ablest  theologian  of  all  the  New  England  Fjvthers."  It  detracts 
also  seriously,  in  our  opinion,  from  the  objective  realness,  and  full 
historical  significance,  of  the  work  of  redemption,  regarded  as  an 
actual  supernatural  conllict  between  the  powers  of  light  and  the 
powers  of  darkness. 

A  real  personal  Satan  seems  necessaiy  to  l)ring  out  in  full  relief 
the  idea  of  a  real  personal  Christ.  And  so  far  as  the  danger  of 
any  Manichean  dualism  is  concerned,  we  do  not  see  that  we  are 
brought  so  nigh  to  it  by  any  means  in  this  way,  as  b}'  the  hypoth- 
esis of  our  respected  author  himself;  which,  as  we  have  seen,  makes 
sin  to  be  a  necessary  thing — a  fact  sure  to  come  to  pass — in  the 
ver}'  constitution  of  the  world  itself?  It  carries  indeed  to  our  ear, 
we  must  confess,  a  very  Zoroastrish  sound,  when  we  are  told  iip 
and  down,  that  evil  is  "a  bad  possibility  that  environs  God  from 
eternity,  waiting  to  become  a  fact,  and  certain  to  become  a  fact, 
Avhenever  the  opportunity  is  given;""  so  that,  "the  moment  God 
creates  a  realm  of  powers,  the  bad  possibility  as  certainly  becomes 
a  bad  actuality — an  outbreaking  evil,  or  empire  of  evil,  in  created 
spirits,  according  to  their  order.'" 

We  have  said  that  the  great  merit  of  Dr.  Bushnell's  book,  as  a 
plea  for  the  supernatural,  is  its  Christological  character.  Its  argu- 
ment centres  in  Jesus  Christ;  whose  whole  personality,  as  we  have 
it  portrayed  in  the  Gospel,  is  shown  with  great  beaut}'  and  force  to 
be  an  altogether  superhuman  fact,  and  such  a  self-evidencing  mira- 
cle in  its  own  nature,  as  may  well  be  considered  sufficient  to  flood 
with  the  light  of  heavenly  demonstration  the  universal  kosmos  of 
the  new  creation.  And  yet  we  do  not  feel  after  all,  that  enough  is 
made  still  of  the  significance  in  this  view  of  the  great  "  mystery  of 
godliness,"  as  related  to  the  supernatural  on  the  one  side  and  to 
the  world  of  nature  on  the  other. 

The  revelation  of  the  supernatural  in  and  by  Christ  is  not  of  one 
kind  witii  the  revelation  of  it  in  any  other  way.  Nature  in  its  own 
order  needs  the  supernatural,  reaches  after  it,  and  through  the  hu- 
man s|)irit  aspires  toward  it  continually  as  the  necessarj'  outlet  and 
complement  of  its  last  wants.  This  aspiration,  however,  is  in  it- 
self sonu'tliing  negative  merely,  which  as  such  can  have  no  power 
of  course  ever  to  grasp  the  supernatural  or  to  bring  it  down  to  its 
own  sphere;  for  what  nature  might  so  fetch  into  itself  by  powers 
of  its  own  would  be  no  longer  .s'?/;)f;r-natural ;  the  negative  want  or 
nisus  here  must  be  met  by  a  i)ositive  self-representation  of  its  ob- 


544  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

ject  from  the  other  side.  In  these  circumstances  there  is  room  for 
imaginary  or  false  relations  to  thrust  themselves  in  as  substitutes 
for  the  true.  Men  may  invest  their  own  speculative  fancies  and 
dreams — the  shadowy  projections  of  their  spiritual  nature  itself 
reaching  forth  toward  the  dark  void — with  a  sort  of  spurious  ob- 
jectivity; thus  creating  for  themselves  whole  worlds  of  religion, 
that  shall  be  found  to  mimic  and  caricature  the  truth  in  its  proper 
form. 

Again,  the  powers  of  the  invisible  world  may  play  into  the 
economy  of  nature  in  an  irregular,  abnormal  waj^,  through  Satanic 
inlets,  offering  themselves  to  the  inward  craving  of  the  human 
spirit,  as  the  very  presence  and  sense  of  the  supernatural  which  it 
needs  for  its  perfection,  and  so  hurr3'ing  it  away,  by  the  force  of 
its  religious  instincts  themselves,  into  a  still  more  gloomy  region 
of  horrible  unrealities  and  lies.  To  this  sphere  belongs  the  sorcery, 
magic,  and  witchcraft  of  all  ages,  aswell  as  the  oracles  and  wonders 
of  the  heathen  world  generallj^,  as  far  as  it  may  be  necessary  to 
admit  their  more  than  natural  character;  and  we  have  no  hesita- 
tion, in  referring — as  Dr.  Bushnell  likewise  does — to  the  so-called 
"spiritual  manifestations "  of  our  own  day,  on  the  supposition 
of  their  being  what  they  pretend  to  be  and  not  mere  tricks  of 
jugglery;  a  question  which  it  is  not  necessary  here  to  discuss.  The 
world,  however,  God  be  praised,  has  not  been  left  hopelessly  to  the 
dominion  of  these  phantoms  and  lies,  growing  out  of  such  false 
relations  to  the  supernatural.  The  truth  has  descended  into  it, 
under  its  own  proper  form.     This  is  the  idea  of  Revelation. 

In  one  view,  nature  itself  is  a  divine  revelation.  A  supernatural 
presence  underlies  it,  and  works  through  it,  at  every  point.  But 
still  as  man  now  is,  he  has  no  power  to  come  by  this  to  any  right 
knowledge  of  God,  and  much  less  to  any  firm  and  steady  apprehen- 
sion of  a  higher  order  of  life  in  His  presence.  Hence  an  actual 
coming  down  of  God  into  the  world,  under  a  wholly  new  form,  be- 
comes the  proper  full  sense  of  the  supernatural  as  required  now  to 
meet  our  wants.  Revelation,  so  understood,  is  a  single  fact;  an- 
nouncing its  own  advent  by  heavenly  oracles  and  signs,  making 
room  for  itself  more  and  more  by  preliminary-  heaven-appointed 
dispensations,  from  the  time  of  Adam  down  to  the  time  of  John 
the  Baptist ;  but  bursting  forth  at  last,  in  its  whole  reality  and 
glory,  only  in  the  ever-adorable  mystery  of  the  Incarnation. 

The  supernatural  in  Christ  thus  is  not  in  one  line  simply  with 
the  supernatural  exhibited  in  previous  divine  reA'elations,  a  fact 
ranking  high  and  conclusive  among  other  facts  of  like  superhuman 


\ 


ClIAP.  XLII]         THE    NATURAL    AND    SUPERNATURAL  545 

order;  it  is  the  or^juiie  root  rather  of  all  true  revelation  from  the 
l)eginning  of  the  world  ;  the  one  absolute  tiiith  in  this  form.  Avhich, 
coming  in  the  fidness  of  time,  makes  good  fuially  the  sense  of  all 
previous  oracles  and  outshinings  froui  behind  the  veil,  disclosing 
the  real  ground  of  them  in  its  own  presence,  i^nd  being  so  related 
to  what  went  before  in  the  way  of  prophetical  word  and  type,  with 
still  more  certainty  must  the  mystery  be  organically  joined  with 
all  that  comes  after  it,  in  the  progressive  unfolding  of  the  Christian 
salvation.  The  Incarnation  constitutes  the  Gospel — being  in  its 
ver}'  nature  a  new  revelation  of  God  in  the  world,  by  which  the 
life  of  heaven  is  made  to  unite  itself  with  the  life  of  earth,  in  a  real 
abiding  wa}^  so  as  to  bring  the  supernatural  home  to  men  in  a  form 
fully  answerable  to  their  inmost  wants.  In  such  view,  it  is  the  be- 
ginning of  a  new  order  of  existence,  the  principle  of  a  new  crea- 
tion, which  in  the  nature  of  the  case  must  hold  under  an  objective, 
historical  character,  as  something  different  from  the  world  in  its 
simply  natural  constitution,  on  to  the  end  of  time.  This  is  the  old 
Patristic  idea  of  the  Holy  Catholic  Church  ;  and  it  is  not  ditlicult 
surely  to  see  how,  in  the  light  of  the  subject  as  thus  explained,  so 
much  account  should  haA'e  been  made  of  it  from  the  first,  as  being 
absolutely  necessary  for  the  full  carrying  out  of  the  Christian  mys- 
ter}'  to  its  proper  end. 

We  have  the  feeling,  as  we  have  said,  that  Dr.  BushneH's  system 
of  the  supernatural,  with  all  its  Christological  merit,  fails  some- 
how after  all  to  lay  hold  of  the  full  significance  of  the  Incarnation, 
in  the  broad  organic  view  now  mentioned.  In  such  way,  we  mean, 
as  to  make  this,  not  merel}'  the  greatest  of  all  arguments  for  the 
supernatural  jn  a  general  view,  but  the  absolute  whole  revelation 
of  it,  in  the  only  form  in  which  it  can  ever  be  trul}^  and  steadily 
objective  to  faith,  and  practically  efficient  for  the  purposes  of  re- 
demption ;  so  that  all  relations  to  it,  all  communications  with  it,  on 
the  outside  of  this  great  Mystery  of  Godliness,  can  never  be  any- 
thing better  than  relative  only,  dream-like,  apparitional,  or  it  may 
be  absolutely  magical,  demoniacal,  and  false.  For  Rationalism,  it 
should  ever  be  borne  in  mind,  has  two  sides,  two  o))posite  poles  of 
unbelief,  that  are  forever  playing  into  each  other  with  wonderful 
readiness  and  ease ;  an  abstract  naturalism  on  the  one  hand,  that 
owns  no  reality  higher  than  the  pr  sent  world  ;  and  then  an  ab- 
stract spiritualism  on  the  other  hand,  by  which  the  sense  of  the 
supernatural  is  not  allowed  to  come  to  any  real  union  with  the 
sense  of  the  natural  in  the  way  of  faith,  but  is  made  to  float  over 
it  fantastically  in  the  wav  of  niere   Gnostic  iniairinatiou.     The  one 


546  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

absolute  Truth,  according  to  St.  John,  as  against  both  these  anti- 
christian  extremes,  is  the  real  coming  of  Christ  in  the  flesh  (1  John 
4  :  1-3) ;  in  making  earnest  with  which  under  such  view,  it  is  not 
easy  to  see  how  faith  should  not  feel  itself  constrained  to  make  like 
earnest  also  with  the  old  doctrine  of  the  Church. 

This  doctrine,  we  are  sorry  to  say,  struggles  in  vain  throughout 
Dr.  Bushnell's  book  to  come  to  its  proper  clear  and  full  expression; 
and  the  want  of  it,  in  our  view,  is  a  serious  defect  in  his  otherwise 
admirable  Christological  argument.  He  shows  indeed,  at  various 
points,  the  power  of  churchly  ideas — for  all  profound  thinking  on 
the  historical  significance  of  Christ's  person  must  run  more  or  less 
that  way  ;  he  is  ready  enough  too,  of  course,  to  acknowledge  the 
existence  of  the  (!hurch  in  the  general  New  England  sense;  but 
the  conception  of  the  Church,  as  it  is  made  to  be  an  article  of  faith, 
a  first  principle  or  ground  element  of  Christianity,  in  the  Apostles' 
Creed,  and  in  all  the  ancient  Creeds,  has  seemingly  no  place  in  his 
system  whateA^er. 

Thus  the  Gospel  seems  to  be  regarded  by  him  too  commonly,  in 
the  light  of  a  constitution  or  fact  qualifying  the  natural  condition 
of  the  world  generally  in  a  supernatural  wa}^,  and  setting  it  in  new 
relations  to  God  within  its  old  order  of  life  ;  in  virtue  of  which,  it 
may  be  supposed  capable  then  of  coming  at  once,  on  its  own  level, 
within  the  range  and  scope  of  the  powers  of  redemption,  flowing 
around  it  spiritually-  at  all  times  like  the  air  of  heaven.  Whereas 
the  m^'stery  of  the  new  creation  in  Christ  would  appear  plainl}^  to 
require,  that  we  should  conceive  of  it,  not  as  any  such  system  of 
heavenly  possibilities  added  to  the  world  in  its  general  natural 
character,  but  as  an  objective  constitution  rather,  having  place  in 
the  world  under  a  wholly  dift'erent  form,  and  carrying  in  itself  rela- 
tions and  powers  altogether  peculiar,  and  not  to  be  found  anywhere 
beyond  its  own  limits  ;  an  order  of  supernatural  grace,  into  which 
men  must  be  introduced  first  of  all,  (the  old  ecclesiastical  idea  of 
re-birth  through  the  sacrament  of  baptism)  b}^  an  outward  "obe- 
dience of  faith,"  in  order  that  they  ma}'  come  into  the  full  use  af- 
terwards of  its  quickening  and  saving  help.  Any  such  view  must 
necessarily  exclude  Dr.  Bushnell's  suggestion,  that  a  regenerate  life 
ma}-  be  capable  of  passing,  like  the  corruption  of  the  race,  by 
natural  propagation,  "under  the  well  known  laws  of  physiology," 
from  parents  to  children ;  as  it  demands  also  a  material  qualifica- 
tion of  a  good  deal  that  he  says  besides,  on  the  subject  of  Chris- 
tian experience,  the  work  of  the  Spirit,  and  the  new  creation  in 
Christ  Jesus. 


CiiAr.  XLII]       THE  natural  and  supernatural  547 

It  is  owing  to  this  want  of  ec-cU'siastical  feeling,  no  doubt,  tlmt 
Dr.  Bushnell  falls  in  so  readily  with  the  stereotyped  Puritanic  way 
of  thinking  in  regard  to  the  historical  Church  of  past  ages.  l)y 
which  it  is  made  to  be  from  the  beginning,  a  systematic  falling 
awa}-  from  the  proper  sense  of  the  Gospel,  in  all  its  points  of  dif- 
ference from  the  prevalent  spiritualism  of  modern  times.  In  one 
of  his  chapters,  we  have  an  argument  to  show,  that  "the  world  is 
governed  supernaturally  in  the  interest  of  Christianity  ;  "  which, 
carried  out  in  any  sort  of  consistency  with  itself,  would  seem  to 
involve  necessaril}-  a  powerful  presumption  in  favor  of  the  old 
Catholic  Church — the  onl}*  form,  in  which,  by  general  acknowledg- 
ment now,  the  truth  of  Christianity  was  maintained,  through  long 
ages,  against  all  manner  of  infidelities  and  heresies  seeking  its  de- 
struction. 

But  our  autlior's  theory  will  not  allow  the  argument  in  any  such 
way  as  that — he  contrives  to  find  here  a  wheel  within  a  wheel,  an 
esoteric  ur)d('7'-s('nse,  b^'  which  the  outward  complexion  and  first 
impression  of  God's  providence  are  made  to  be  one  thing,  and  its 
hidden  ulterior  meaning  another  thing  altogether.  "We  are  gravely 
told,  accordingly,  that  Christianit}"  must  "go  into  a  grand  process 
of  corrui)tion  at  first,"  to  make  room  for  its  own  regeneration 
finally  to  a  higher  and  better  life.  And  so  if  the  course  of  events, 
century-  after  centur}-.  fiill  in  concurrently  with  the  march  of  Chris- 
tianity in  this  false  shape,  verifying  apparently  in  the  fortunes  of 
the  Catholic  Church  the  sj-mbol  of  the  bush  that  burned  with  fire 
and  yet  was  not  consumed,  we  are  not  to  be  moved  by  it  at  all  as 
l)roving  anything  in  favor  of  the  Church,  but  to  read  in  it  on  the 
contrary  onl}'  a  profound  ordering  of  God's  providence,  designed 
to  oiK'U  the  wa}'  for  its  ultimate  confusion  and  defeat.  Need  we 
say  that  the  providential,  or  historical  ai-gument  for  Christianity, 
in  any  such  form  as  this,  is  shorn  of  all  force,  and  turned  into  a 
mere  arbitrary  conceit,  which  is  capable  of  being  used  ingeniously 
with  as  much  effect  one  way  as  another? 

We  have  been  i)leased  to  find,  that  Dr.  Bushnell  does  not  shrink 
from  confessing  the  continuation  of  the  power  of  miracles  in  the 
Churcii.  making  them  to  be  on  fit  occasions  both  possible  and  ac- 
tual, from  the  first  century  down  to  the  present  time.  We  have 
long  felt,  that  the  popular  notion  on  the  subject,  which  supposes 
them  to  have  continued  for  about  three  centuries  after  Christ,  and 
then  to  have  ceased  entirely,  is  both  against  reason  and  without 
an}-  sort  of  })roi)er  supjjort  in  history.  The  proof  for  miracles  n  f(rr 
the  third  century  is  altogether  more  full  and  clear,  than  the  proof 


548  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

for  miracles  in  the  second  and  third  centuries  themselves.  The  real 
possibility  of  them,  moreover,  would  seem  to  lie  in  the  very  con- 
ception of  Christianity,  considered  as  an  order  of  supernatural 
powers  enduringly  present  in  the  world  to  the  end  of  time ;  so  that 
one  is  at  a  loss  to  understand,  what  kind  of  faith  in  it  they  can 
have,  who  make  a  merit  of  mocking  and  scouting  every  miraculous 
pretension  in  its  name,  as  being  at  once,  and  of  itself,  the  surest 
evidence  of  gross  imposture  or  blind  superstition.  With  such  irra- 
tional and  irreligious  skepticism  our  Hartford  divine  has  no  sym- 
path}'.  He  believes  in  the  continuation  of  the  power  of  miracles  in 
■the  Church,  down  even  to  our  own  day;  and  more  than  that,  he 
brings  forward  quite  a  number  of  what  he  considers  well  authenti- 
cated examples  of  the  miraculous  in  modern  times,  which  have 
fallen  in  some  measure  under  his  own  observation.  It  is  curious 
to  read  his  chapter  on  this  subject. 

Here  again,  however,  we  are  struck  with  the  unchurchly  spirit  of 
his  thinking.  The  old  ecclesiastical  miracles  are  not  wholh^  to  his 
taste;  their  ecclesiasticism  at  least  seems  to  be  counted  a  hindrance 
to  their  credibility,  more  than  a  help.  His  faith  in  such  things  ap- 
pears to  breathe  most  free,  when  it  passes  out  of  that  order,  and  is 
allowed  to  expatiate  at  large  among  wonders  more  or  less  extra-ec- 
clesiastical in  their  form  and  character.  We  shall  not  pretend,  of 
course,  to  enter  here  into  any  examination  of  his  cases.  We  must 
say,  however,  that  Church  miracles  in  the  proper  sense — miracles, 
we  mean,  as  mediated  by  the  idea  of  the  Church  in  the  old  Augus- 
tinian  view — are  vasth'  more  respectable,  in  our  eyes,  than  any 
such  class  of  examples  under  a  different  and  more  general  type. 
We  question,  indeed,  if  it  be  possible  to  make  earnest  with  the  be- 
lief of  miracles  at  all,  except  in  connection  with  some  believing  ap- 
prehension of  the  mystery  of  the  Church,  in  the  sense  of  the  Apos- 
tles' Creed.  Out  of  that  order,  the  supernatural  as  related  to  the 
present  world,  would  seem  to  carry  with  it  always,  even  under  its 
best  and  most  reliable  manifestations,  a  certain  character  of  Gnos- 
tic unreality,  making  it  to  be  no  proper  object  for  steady  Christian 
faith. 

Verily,  it  ?'*t  a  great  thing  to  have  laith,  even  as  a  grain  of  mustard 
seed;  to  be  able  to  own  and  embrace,  not  merely  the  thought  of  the 
supernatural  in  a  natural  way,  but  the  real  presence  of  it  in  its  own 
order;  to  hold  the  proper  verity  of  the  Gospel,  not  in  the  form  of 
doctrine  only,  or  supposed  inward  experiences,  but  in  the  form  of 
full  objective,  historical  fact.  To  be  able  to  say  the  Creed,  in  its 
own  meaning  and  sense ;  to  stand  before  the  Man  Jesus,  and  con- 


Chap.  XLII]       the  natural  and  supernatural  549 

fess,  with  more  than  natural  knowledge,  as  Peter  did:  *'  'Thou  art 
the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God;"  to  believe  that  "Christ  is 
come  in  the  flesh,"  with  all  the  necessarv  antecedents,  concomitants, 
and  consequents  of  such  a  revelation — His  birth  or  the  Virgin,  full 
of  grace,  and  blessed  among  women ;  His  miracles  in  the  days  of  his 
flesh;  His  resurrection  and  ascension;  His  new  presence  in  the 
world  by  the  Spirit;  the  supernatural  order  of  the  Church,  set  over 
against  the  order  of  nature,  and  comprehending  in  itself  the  powers 
of  His  resurrection  life  to  the  end  of  time — this,  we  say,  is  the  Gospel, 
as  we  find  it  preached  everywhere  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles — as  it 
underlies  all  the  Xew  Testament  Epistles — as  it  animated  the  spirit 
of  mart3rs  and  confessors  in  the  first  Christian  ages;  and  the  power 
of  believing  it.  we  repeat,  is  indeed  so  great  a  thing,  that  all  worldh' 
advantages,  in  comparison,  may  well  seem  to  be  both  poor  and 
mean. 

Such  faith,  from  the  ver^-  nature  of  the  case,  must  be  itself  super- 
natural— the  power  of  passing  beyond  nature,  so  as  to  lay  hold  of 
things  heavenly  and  divine  in  their  own  higher  order  and  sphere. 
It  must  come  into  the  soul  then  in  and  through  the  constitution  of 
grace  itself,  under  its  character  of  objective  distinction  from  the 
constitution  of  man's  merely  natural  life.  There  may  be  actings  of 
the  organ  or  faculty,  indeed,  on  the  outside  of  this;  but  these  will 
be  always  in  a  more  or  less  Gnostic  and  unreal  wa^-;  forms  of  be- 
lieving, we  may  sav,  filled  as  yet  with  no  proper  contents  of  the  faith 
or  virtue  that  comes  to  its  full  exercise  in  the  bosom  of  the  Christian 
mystery  alone.  And  what  now,  if  the  standing  form  of  this  mys- 
tery in  the  world  be  still  the  Church,  as  it  was  held  to  be  in  the 
beginning?  Could  faith  do  its  office,  in  that  case,  while  denying, 
despising,  ignoring,  or  overlooking  its  claims? 

One  use  of  his  argument  for  the  supernatural  Dr.  Bushnell  finds 
in  this,  that  it  provides  a  place  and  a  plea  for  the  "positive  institu- 
tions of  religion,"  as  he  calls  them — meaning  by  these,  church  or- 
ganization, the  sacraments,  the  Sabbath,  the  Bible,  the  office  of  the 
ministry,  &c. — which  are  allowed  to  be  "falling  rajiidly  into  disre- 
spect, as  if  destined  finall}-  to  be  quite  lost  or  sunk  in  oblivion." 
This  fact  itself  he  ascribes  to  the  growth  and  pervading  influence 
of  naturalism.  But  may  we  not  reverse  the  order,  and  make  the 
loss  of  Ijelief — we  will  not  say  in  the  positive  institutions  of  Cliris- 
tianity — but  in  the  Christian  Church  itself,  one  large  cause  of  the 
reigning  decay  of  faith  in  a  wider  view?  To  restore  the  superna- 
tural to  its  general  rights,  then,  nothing  would  be  needed  so  much,  , 
first  of  all,  as  a  resuscitation  of  faith  in  the  Church.     Then,  also, 


550  I-N    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

any  argument  for  the  supernatural,  any  plea  for  the  Christological 
in  its  sound  and  right  form,  to  be  of  full  force  and  effect  in  the  end, 
must  be  at  the  same  time  ecclesiastical  also;  or,  in  other  words,  an 
argument  for  the  old  doctrine  of  the  Church,  as  it  stands  enshrined 
in  the  earl}-  Creeds.  Is  it  too  much  to  hope,  that  Dr.  Bushnell's 
earnest  and  active  mind  ma}'  j'et  be  turned  to  the  subject,  under 
this  profoundly  interesting  view? 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

A  FTER  Dr.  Xevin  had  published  his  polemical  articles  on  Early 
-^J^  Christianity  and  Cyprian  in  the  3-ear  1852,  he,  in  a  great 
measure,  laid  aside  the  Church  Question  and  occupied  his  mind 
theoretically  in  the  higher  region  of  Christolog3',  and  practically  ' 
in  the  promotion  of  the  Liturgical  movement.  But  the  Church  and 
the  Creed,  as  living  realities  flowing  from  the  person  of  Christ, 
could  not  be  dismissed  from  his  heart  or  mind  and  accordingly, 
whilst  he  was  still  building  his  house  at  Lancaster,  from  his  retreat 
at  Windsor  Place  he  began  to  give  utterance  to  his  "  Thoughts  on  the 
Church,"  which  he  concluded  in  a  second  article  from  his  new  home 
at  Lancaster.  The  two  articles  occupied  seventj^-three  pages  of 
the  Mercersbui-g  Revieio  (see  April  and  July  numbers),  of  which 
our  limits  will  allow  us  here  to  furnish  only  a  portion  of  the  more 
positive  character. — The}'  were  his  pia  desideria  in  his  seclusion. 

The  Question  of  the  Church  is  in  its  ground  and  principle  One.  ■* 
To  a  superficial  thinker  this  may  not  be  at  once  apparent.  In 
first  view,  there  might  seem  to  be  rather  a  number  of  church  ques- 
tions meeting  in  no  common  ground.  At  one  time,  the  matter  in 
dispute  is  Ei)iscopacy ;  at  another  time,  it  is  the  power  of  the  Sacra- 
ments; then  again,  it  may  be  the  use  of  a  Liturgy,  the  observance 
of  the  Church  Year,  or  the  stress  which  it  is  proper  to  lay  on  the 
forms  and  ceremonies  generally  of  religious  Worship.  It  soon  be- 
comes evident,  however,  on  serious  consideration,  that  all  these 
points,  different  as  they  may  seem,  involve  here  in  some  wa}-  the 
presence  of  a  thought  or  idea  more  general  than  themselves,  through 
the  power  of  which  they  come  together  at  last  in  the  form  of  a  sin- 
gle great  question.  These  are  after  all  subordinate  and  secondary 
issues  only,  the  whole  significance  of  which  lies  in  the  sense  of  a 
far  deeper  and  more  comprehensive  issue  that  continually  condi- 
tions tiiem  from  behind.  The  sense  of  this  may  be  indeed  more  an 
instinct  than  any  clear  apprehension;  still  it  is  always  at  hand, 
where  anv  true  interest  is  taken  in  these  subordinate  questions. 

Hence  it  is  never  difficult  to  know,  how  the  parties  on  an}-  one  such 
question  will  form  themselves,  when  the  subject  for  consideration 
comes  to  be  considered.  The  lines  are  still  drawn  always  as  between 
the  same  churchly  and  unchurchly  tendencies;  and  no  one  is  at  a 

(551) 


552  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

loss  to  Jinticipate  in  each  case  beforehand  in  what  way  the  distinc- 
tion must  fall.  This  distinction,  therefore,  is  not  made  by  any  of 
these  snbordinate  issnes,  nor  yet  by  all  of  them  taken  together; 
but  it  forms  the  rule  and  measure  rather  by  which  they  come  to  ex- 
ist. It  is  not  a  particular  view  of  the  sacraments  that  makes  a  man 
to  be  churchl}'  or  unchurchly ;  but  it  is  his  sense  of  the  Church,  on 
the  coutraiy,  that  gives  complexion  and  character  to  the  view  he 
may  haA^e  of  the  sacraments.  The  church  feeling  thus  is  older  and 
deeper  in  the  order  of  nature  than  the  sacramental,  or  the  liturgical, 
or  any  other  of  like  partial  kind  and  form.  The  partial  Interest 
in  each  case  refers  itself  spontaneously'  to  the  general  interest  in 
which  it  is  comprehended,  and  bears  witness  in  doing  so  to  the 
unity  of  the  whole  subject.  There  is,  accordingly,  on  all  sides,  a 
sort  of  intuitional  sense  of  such  ultimate  unity  or  oneness  reaching 
through  the  various  questions  that  are  agitated  in  regard  to  the 
Church,  which  ma}^  be  said  to  go  much  beyond  what  is  generally 
clear  for  the  understanding.  All  these  questions  are  felt  to  resolve 
themselves  finally  into  one,  which  is  the  Church  Question,  in  the 
full  and  proper  sense  of  the  term. 

Sortie  proper  sense  of  the  true  character  of  the  Church  Question 
in  the  view  now  stated,  some  power  to  perceive  and  acknowledge 
in  a  fair  manner  its  claims  to  respect,  must  be  considered  to  be  an 
indispensable  preliminary^  condition  to  any  right  inquir^^  or  just 
judgment  concerning  its  merits  one  way  or  another.  The  want  of 
such  appreciation,  the  absence  of  such  positive  insight  into  the 
reality  and  magnitude  and  true  religious  earnestness  of  the  problem 
to  be  here  solved  and  settled,  is  an  argument  at  once,  wherever 
found,  of  full  disqualification  for  the  task  of  taking  it  in  hand;  and 
goes  with  good  reason,  we  ma^^  add,  to  create  a  presumption  of 
wrong  against  the  cause  in  whose  service  it  appears.  For  in  the 
nature  of  the  case,  the  disqualification  must  be  moral,  and  not 
simply  natural. 

Not  to  be  able  to  see  at  all  the  solemn  interest  of  the  subject,  is 
necessaril}^  in  some  degree  also  not  to  be  willing  to  see  it.  There 
is  a  measure  of  insincerity  and  affectation  always,  we  have  reason 
to  believe,  in  any  such  assumed  posture  of  indiflference  or  contempt 
towards  what  all  feel  notwithstanding  to  be  of  the  deepest  meaning 
for  Christianity.  Children  feel  it;  it  enters  as  an  instinctive  senti- 
ment into  all  unsophisticated  piety;  the  sense  of  it  reveals  itself, 
as  we  have  already  seen,  even  in  those  who  pretend  to  make  light 
of  it,  by  the  intemperate  spirit  with  which  they  are  sure  to  meet 


Chap.  XLIII]  thoughts  on  the  church  553 

the  subject  wherever  it  comes  iu  their  vvay.  There  is  that  in  their 
interior  consciousness  here,  which  gives  the  lie  palpablj'  to  what 
they  say  with  tlieir  lips  and  try  to  think  in  their  hearts.  Such 
being  the  case,  we  repeat,  they  are  not  qualified  to  sit  in  judgment 
on  what  they  undertake  thus  magisteriall}'  to  condemn.  They  lack 
the  conditions  of  the  hearing  ear  and  the  seeing  e3'e.  We  have  a 
right  to  distrust  their  cause,  for  the  very  reason  that  it  allows,  and 
seems  to  favor,  a  spiritual  posture  which  we  may  easih*  know  to  be 
so  dishonest  and  false. 


Paganism,  in  its  first  conflict  with  Christianity,  affected  in  this 
way  an  entire  superiorit}'  to  the  whole  question  which  this  last  of- 
fered for  its  consideration.  It  could  not  condescend  to  meet  it  in 
any  earnest  and  serious  style.  The  story  of  the  Gospel  was  treated 
as  a  Jewish  dream,  too  foolish  and  absurd  to  deserve  the  least  re- 
spectful attention  ;  and  the  religion  of  those  who  embraced  it  was 
held  to  be  a  fair  occasion  for  unbounded  mockery  and  scorn,  as  be- 
ing fit  only  for  such  as  had  taken  leave  of  their  senses.  So  Pagan- 
ism talked ;  and  so,  no  doubt,  Paganism  tried  also  to  believe,  per- 
suading itself  that  its  view  of  things  was  the  fruit  of  actual  knowl- 
edge and  conviction.  But  it  is  easy  to  see  now  that  this  was  not 
the  case ;  and  that  for  a  thoughtful  mind  even  then  there  might 
have  been  found  a  strong  presumption  for  the  Christian  cause  in 
the  very  posture  and  spirit  of  the  unbelieving  power  b}'  which  it 
was  thus  superciliousl}-  opposed.  For  Paganism  had  no  power  to 
sustain  itself  quietly  and  steadily  in  this  affectation  of  contempt 
towards  Christianity  ;  as  it  might  surely  have  been  able  to  do,  if 
the  new  religion'  had  been  in  fact  so  worth}-  of  being  laughed  at  as 
it  pretended  to  think.  There  was  that  in  its  own  consciousness,, 
which  after  all  gave  the  lie  to  its  professed  indifference,  and  com- 
pelled it  in  spite  of  itself  to  feel 'that  it  was  at  issue  in  this  case 
with  a  force  Avhich  threatened  nothing  less  than  its  own  destruc- 
tion. 

However  particular  points  of  the  Christian  controversy-  might 
seem  to  ofler  easy  and  fair  opportunit}-  for  caricature  and  over- 
whelming explosion,  for  biting  wit  or  triumphant  sneer,  there  was 
still  an  evident  feeling  all  the  time  that  the  subject  did  not  end  in 
any  such  i)oints,  that  all  these  particular  (questions  resolved  them- 
selves mysteriously  into  the  presence  of  a  deeper  general  question 
lying  behind,  and  that  this  had  to  do  in  truth  with  the  universal 
life  of  the  world  as  it  then  stood.  Paganism  knew-  in  this  blind 
way  at  least,  in  the  midst  of  all  its  levity,  that  Christianity  w-as  a 
35 


554  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

great  power,  an  earnest  power,  a  power  that  had  a  right  to  challenge 
its  solemn  apprehension  and  dread.  It  was  the  sense  of  this  pre- 
cisely, which  made  it  impossible  for  it  to  treat  Christianity  in  the 
way  it  could  treat  other  religions.  They  might  be  tolerated,  even 
where  they  were  despised.  But  for  Christianity  there  could  be  no 
toleration.  Over  against  its  claims,  there  was  no  room  for  equa- 
nimity or  patience. 

Hence  the  sti'ange  spectacle  of  that  which  was  ridiculed  as  the 
most  unmeaning  of  all  religions,  being  the  most  ready  object  never- 
theless of  wrath  and  persecution  on  the  part  of  those  who  made 
themselves  superior  to  it  in  such  style.  No  one  can  consider  such 
a  relation,  without  perceiving  at  once  that  it  implied  weakness  and 
wrong  on  the  side  of  Paganism,  and  a  lack  of  power  to  cope  fairly 
with  the  strength  of  the  interest  it  sought  to  crush.  Its  want  of 
ability  to  meet  the  claims  of  Christianity  in  an  earnest  and  serious 
manner,  its  superficial  levit}^  in  a  case  whose  profound  interest  at 
the  same  time  it  was  compelled  to  confess  in  the  secret  depths  of 
its  own  mind,  made  it  certain  in  the  circumstances  that  it  could  do 
no  justice  to  the  Christian  argument,  and  that  any  judgment  it 
might  pronounce  upon  it  was  far  more  likely  to  be  wrong  than 
right. 

And  so  in  any  case,  where  a  deep  moral  interest  is  involved, 
where  a  question  of  momentous  practical  bearings  is  to  be  settled, 
there  must  be  some  proper  sense  of  the  .true  earnestness  of  the 
subject,  some  sympath}^  with  it,  and  some  power  to  perceive  and 
appreciate  its  claims  to  respect,  before  there  can  be  any  fitness  or 
right  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  it;  and  no  verdict  or  conclusion 
reached  in  regard  to  it,  without  such  previous  qualffication,  can  ever 
deserve  to  be  held  of  an}^  account. 


The  presumption  against  all  s'uch  easy  and  wholesale  judgment 
becomes  still  stronger,  when  it  is  considered  that  the  views,  which 
are  thus  summarily  charged  with  madness  and  folly,  have  exercised 
in  fact  the  widest  and  most  powerful  influence  in  the  Christian 
world  through  all  ages.  One  would  suppose  it  might  serve  to  tame 
somewhat  the  confident  tone  of  those  who  allow  themselves  to 
think  and  talk  in  this  way,  only  to  know  that  by  far  the  largest 
part  of  Christendom  at  the  present  time  is  ruled,  both  practically 
and  theoretically,  by  the  authority  of  just  that  s^'Stem  of  ideas  in 
regard  to  the  Church,  which  they  are  accustomed  to  revile  and  de- 
^ride  as  resting  on  no  ground  of  reason  whatever.  But  the  case  be- 
comes a  great  deal  stronger,  when  it  is  remembered  that  the  same 


Chap.  XLIII]  thoughts  on  the  church  555 

system  of  thought  has  in  fiict  prevailed,  with  overwhelming  author- 
ity, in  ever}'  age  of  the  Church  from  the  beginning.  There  is  no 
mistake  with  regard  to  this  point.  It  is  just  as  plain  as  it  is  pos- 
sible for  it  to  be  made  b}-  the  evidence  of  history.  We  read  the 
full  proof  of  it  in  all  the  movements  of  Christian  antiquity. 

Right  or  wrong,  reasonable  or  unreasonable,  the  very  idea  of  the 
Church,  which  is  now  denounced  in  the  quarter  of  which  we  are 
speaking  as  no  better  than  a  silly  dream,  is  that  precisely  which  is 
found  to  pervade  the  reigning  mind  of  the  Church  catholic  from 
the  century  of  the  Apostles  down  to  the  century  of  the  Reforma- 
tion. It  meets  us  in  the  old  Ci'eeds ;  it  speaks  to  us  from  ever}' 
page  of  the  Christian  Fathers ;  it  breathes  through  all  the  ancient 
Liturgies ;  it  enters  into  the  universal  scheme  of  the  early  Chris- 
tian Faith.  The  ver}-  points  in  it  which  strike  the  party  in  ques- 
tion as  most  grossly  obnoxious  to  vilification  and  reproach,  wei'e 
admitted  and  proclaimed  without  the  least  feeling  of  reserve. 
Points,  for  example,  that  such  a  man  as  ^Ir.  Spurgeon,the  popular 
juvenile  preacher  of  London,  can  find  no  terms  too  strong  to  stig- 
matize as  the  perfection  of  brainless  puerility,  had  power  notwith- 
standing to  command  the  reverence  of  entire  ecumenical  s3nods, 
and  were  received  ever3'where  with  unquestioning  fjiith  b}-  the 
wisest  and  best  men.  AVhat  is  with  him  a  subject  onl}-  for  heart- 
felt mockery,  was  a  solemn  heavenly  mystery  to  the  mind  of  an 
Augustine  or  a  Chrysostom.  He  finds  it  easy  to  wade,  where  an 
Origen  or  a  Jerome  found  ample  room  to  swim. 


It  requires  indeed  only  some  proper  communion  with  the  subject 
in  our  own  spirits,  to  perceive  the  truth  of  the  general  thought 
which  we  have  now  in  hand.  It  is  wonderful  with  what  power 
church  ideas  make  their  appeal  to  the  soul,  when  it  is  brought  into 
the  right  posture  and  habit  for  perceiving  their  force.  And  this 
habit  is  anjthing  but  such  as  it  might  be  supposed  to  be,  on  the 
theory  of  those  who  seek  to  resolve  all  sentiments  of  the  sort  into 
worldly  and  unspiritual  motives.  It  does  not  come  of  logic.  It  is 
no  fruit  of  the  mere  understanding.  It  owns  no  sympathy  with 
the  noise  and  rush  of  material  interests,  the  common  outward  life 
of  the  present  world.  It  is  a  habit  rather,  in  which  the  mind  is 
brought  to  fall  back  upon  the  depths  of  its  own  nature,  and  to  con. 
verse  with  the  spiritual  things,  not  so  much  in  the  way  of  outward 
reflection,  as  in  the  way  of  inward  intuition. 

In  some  such  style  it  is,  that  the  unperverted  thoughts  of  child- 
hood are  accustomed  to  go  out  towards  the  realities  of  the  Avorld 


556  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

unseen  and  eternal;  and  children,  as  we  have  had  occasion  to  say 
before,  have  a  natural  receptivity  for  all  ehurchl^'  ideas ;  a  truth 
which  any  one  can  easily  verif}^  by  remembering  the  experience  of 
his  own  childhood,  or  by  observing  the  childhood  of  others.  What 
true  child  ever  had  any  difficulty  in  admitting  the  idea  of  baptismal 
grace,  or  in  acknowledging  the  mystical  force  of  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per? So  at  ever}^  point  children  are  peculiarly  open  to  just  those 
views  and  sentiments  in  religion,  which  enter  into  what  ma^'  be 
termed  the  objective  churchly  side  of  Christianit}',  as  we  have  it 
developed  in  the  Old  Catholic  Church.  The  only  true  order  of 
faith  for  them  is  always  the  Apostles'  Creed.  No  symbol,  no  cate- 
chism, ever  speaks  to  them  like  that.  They  are  disposed  to  believe 
in  saints,  and  to  hold  in  reverence  the  memory  of  confessors  and 
martyrs.  They  have  an  active  sense  for  the  liturgical  in  relig- 
ion, for  the  m^'Stical,  for  the  priestl}^  and  sacramental.  It  costs  no 
trouble  to  bend  their  first  religious  thoughts  this  wa3^  Their 
earliest  piety  will  not  flow  smoothly  in  any  other  channel. 

And  thus  it  is  through  life,  where  the  child  is  allowed  to  remain 
still  "father  to  the  man," in  any  right  sense,  and  where  opportunity 
is  still  found  for  the  religious  sensibilities  to  work  in  their  proper 
primitive  form.  The  "testimony  of  the  soul,"  on  which  Tertullian 
lays  so  much  stress,  as  being  on  the  side  of  all  religion,  and  as 
bearing  witness  in  particular  to  the  claims  of  Christianit}'  the  ab- 
solutely true  religion,  goes  unquestionably  in  favor  also  of  Chris- 
tianity under  the  churchly  view,  and  lends  countenance  to  the  whole 
circle  of  thoughts  and  feelings,  in  which  this  view  may  be  said  to 
have  its  natural  and  proper  home.  There  is  that  in  the  inmost 
depths  of  our  religious  being,  which  echoes  responsively  to  the 
voice  of  this  special  form  of  the  Christian  foith,  wherever  there  is 
room  for  it  to  be  rightly  and  fairly  heard.  Is  it  not  here,  in  truth, 
we  reach  the  ground  and  foundation  of  all  religious  art?  All  such 
art  is  churchly  by  its  very  constitution,  and  ceases  to  be  intelligible 
where  some  sense  of  the  Church  comes  not  in  as  a  key  to  explain 
its  meaning.  Puritanic  ideas  are  for  the  imderstanding;  Catholic 
ideas  speak  more  directlj^  to  the  heart. 


The  true  sense  of  the  Church  Question,  in  this  view,  that  wliich 
forms  its  proper  nerve  and  gist,  is  not  found  reallj'  in  those  points 
around  which  the  controversy  is  most  commonly  made  to  revolve. 
The  first  matter  needing  to  be  settled  is  not  the  right  of  an}'  out- 
ward historical  organization  to  be  considered  the  Church  or  a  part 
of  the  Church,  but  what  the  Church  itself  must  be  held  to  be  in 


ClIAP.  XLIII]  THOLCJUTS    (»N    THE    CIIIRCII  557 

theor}'  or  idea;  not  the  force  and  value  of  any  institution  or  usage 
or  order  wbieli  may  be  set  forward  in  an}-  quarter  as  evidencing 
tlie  presence  of  tlie  Ciiureli,  but  what  this  presence  in  any  case  must 
be  taken  actually  to  involve  and  mean.  If  men  have  no  common 
notion  or  conception  of  the  Church,  some  taking  it  to  mean  much 
and  others  taking  it  to  mean  very  little  or  almost  nothing  at  all,  it 
can  never  be  more  than  a  waste  of  time  for  them  to  dispute  concern- 
ing the  modes  of  its  being  or  the  proper  methods  of  its  action. 

Only  when  the  idea  of  the  Church  has  been  first  brought  to  some 
clear  determination,  can  the  way  be  said  to  be  at  all  open  for  dis- 
cussing either  intelligibly  or  profitably  such  questions  as  relate 
only  to  the  manner  in  which  the  idea  should  be,  or  actually  may  be 
anywhere,  carried  out  in  practice.  That  is  always  a  most  heartless 
sort  of  controversy  about  Church  ])oints,  where  the  parties  at  issue 
agree  at  bottom  in  disowning,  or  not  perceiving  what  forms  in  fact 
the  true  core  of  the  subject  in  debate,  and  thus  show  themselves  to 
be  contending  for  an  empty  form  and  nothing  more;  as  when  the 
Baptist  insists  on  the  obligation  of  the  sacraments  against  the 
Quaker,  or  the  Congregationalist  defends  the  baptism  of  infants 
against  the  Baptist,  withont  an}-  faith  on  either  side  in  the  old 
doctrine  of  sacramental  grace;  or  as  when  the  Episcopalian  is 
violent  for  bishops,  or  for  the  use  of  a  liturgy,  against  the  Presbj'- 
terian,  while  for  both  alike  all  resolves  itself  into  a  question  of 
mere  outward  appointment,  and  neither  the  Christian  ministry  nor 
Christian  worship)  mean  a  particle  more  for  the  one  than  they  mean 
for  the  other. 

Such  questions,  belonging  to  the  periphery  of  the  Church  system, 
are  of  course  important;  but  onl}-  as  they  are  viewed  in  connection 
with  the  centre  of  the  sphere  in  Avhich  they  have  their  place.  Dis- 
joined from  this  in  thought,  the}'  cease  to  have  any  meaning  or 
force.  What  earnest  mind  can  make  much  account  of  the  question 
of  infant  baptism,  if  the  whole  sacrament  be  considered  an  outward 
sign  merely  without  any  sort  of  ol)jective  force?  To  what  can  the 
question  of  Episcopacy  amount  for  an}-  such  mind,  where  the  minis- 
try is  not  held  to  be  of  strictly  divine  right,  and  the  necessary  ciian- 
nel  of  God's  grace  in  the  Church?  It  may  be  something  relatively 
churchl}-  to  uphold  the  authority  of  the  sacraments  in  opposition 
to  the  Quakers,  to  be  in  favor  of  infant  baptism  in  contradiction  to 
the  Baptists,  to  go  for  Presbyterianism  instead  of  Independency 
and  Congregationalism,  to  i)ress  the  distinguishing  points  of  Angli- 
can or  American  Episcopacy  against  all  other  denominations;  but 
no  such  distinctions  are  sufficient  of  themselves  to  bring  into  view 


558  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

the  absolute  sense  of  the  qunlitj'  which  is  applied  to  them  by  the 
term  churchly.  To  reach  this,  we  must  go  farther  back.  The 
fundamental  question  is  not  of  the  sacraments,  nor  of  a  liturg}',  nor 
of  the  Church  Year,  nor  of  ordination  and  apostolical  succession, 
nor  of  presbyters,  bishops,  or  popes;  but,  as  we  hare  said,  of  the 
nature  of  the  Church  itself,  considered  in  its  ideal  character,  and  as 
an  object  of  thought  anterior  to  every  such  revelation  of  its  pres- 
ence in  an  outward  way. 


What  is  the  Church?  What  is  the  true  idea  or  conception  of  it, 
in  the  economy  of  the  Christian  salvation?  Does  it  belong  to  the 
essence  of  Christianity;  or  is  it  something  accidental  only  to  its 
proper  being,  a  constitution  made  to  inclose  it  in  an  outward  way, 
and  capable  of  being  separated  from  it  without  serious  damage  to 
its  life? 

This,  we  say,  is  the  true  Church  Question^  the  root  of  that  great 
controversy  concerning  the  Church,  whose  ramifications  reach  so 
far,  and  whose  multitudinous  bearings  are  found  to  cover  at  last 
tlie  entire  field  both  of  Christian  docti'ine  and  Christian  practice. 
Here  is  the  fountain  head  of  the  difference,  which  like  some  mighty 
stream  divides  throughout  the  churchly  system  of  religion  from 
the  unchurchly.  Here  is  the  beginning  of  the  great  gulf  fixed  be- 
tween them,  which  serA'es  to  place  them  as  it  were  in  two  opposite 
worlds.  No  other  issue,  within  the  Christian  sphere  itself,  de- 
scends so  deep  or  reaches  so  far.  It  enters  into  the  very  idea  of 
faith,  affects  the  sense  of  all  worship,  conditions  the  uniA-ei'sal 
scheme  of  theology,  and  moulds  and  shapes  the  religious  life  at 
every  point.  It  gi^-es  rise  to  two  phases  of  Christianit}',  which  are 
so  different  as  to  seem  at  last  indeed,  in  their  full  development, 
more  like  two  Christianities  than  one. 


If  there  could  be  any  doubt  concerning  the  proper  sense  of  the 
Creed  |jere  separately  considered,  it  must  disappear  immediately 
in  view  of  what  may  easily  be  knowm  in  other  ways  to  have  been 
the  general  faith  of  the  earl}'  Church  on  this  subject.  As  all  the 
variations  of  the  Creed  proceed  in  one  and  the  same  strain,  so  also 
is  this  found  to  be  in  full  harmony  at  the  same  time  with  the  uni- 
versal religious  thinking  of  the  time  to  which  the}'  belong.  No 
one  who  has  taken  the  least  serious  pains  to  qualify  himself  for  an 
intelligent  opinion  in  the  case,  can  make  any  question  in  regard  to 
this  point.  The  idea  of  the  Church  which  meets  us  in  the  Epistles 
of  Ignatius,  is  the  same  that  rules  the  polemics  of  Irenaeus,  ani- 


Chap.  XLIII]  thoughts  on  the  church  559 

mates  the  zeal  of  Cyprian,  and  comes  to  its  full  systematic  devel- 
opment at  last  in  the  theology'  of  the  great  Augustine.  It  is  the 
idea,  by  which  all  institutions  and  arrangements,  all  otilces  and  sac- 
raments, all  forms  and  rubrics,  belonging  to  the  Church,  are  made 
to  be  something  subordinate  to  the  living  constitution  of  the 
Church  itself,  in  virtue  of  which  onlj'  the}'  can  be  supposed  to 
carr>'  with  thcni  either  grace  or  power. 

Faith  in  the  Church,  with  these  Fathers,  was  not  just  faith  in 
bishops,  or  in  an  altar,  or  in  the  use  of  a  liturgy- ;  for  bishops,  and 
altars,  and  liturgies,  were  common  among  such  as  were  held  not- 
withstanding to  have  neither  part  nor  lot  in  the  true  common- 
wealth of  Christ.  It  terminated  on  what  the  Church  Avas  supposed 
to  be  as  a  divine  mystery,  back  of  episcopac}',  and  behind  all  sacra- 
ments, symbols,  and  forms,  the  force  of  which  must  turn  neces- 
sarily at  last  on  its  own  nature.  The  peculiarity  of  this  old  church 
faith  is,  that  it  goes  right  to  the  heart  of  the  true  Church  Question, 
where  many  are  altogether  unwilling  to  follow  it,  who  still  affect 
to  make  great  account  of  it  for  other  points;  infant  baptism,  for 
instance,  baptismal  grace,  the  mystical  power  of  the  LorcFs  Sup- 
])er,  or  the  three  orders  of  the  ministry;  without  perceiving  that 
such  points  in  fact  mean  nothing,  save  in  union  with  the  central 
life  of  the  system  to  which  they  belong.  The  old  faith  went  hand 
in  hand  with  the  Creed;  saw  in  the  Church  the  presence  of  a  new 
order  of  life  in  the  world,  flowing  from  Christ's  exaltation  and  the 
sending  of  the  Holy  Ghost;  owned  it  for  the  body  of  Christ,  and 
the  home  of  the  Spirit;  ascribed  to  it  for  this  reason  heavenly  pre- 
rogatives and  powers;  and  found  no  difficulty  accordingly  in  speak- 
ing of  it  as  the  ark  of  salvation,  in  whose  bosom  alone  men  might 
hope  to  outride  safely  the  perils  of  their  present  life,  and  to  be 
borne  linallv  into  the  haven  of  eternal  rest. 


The  doctrine  of  the  Church,  we  have  seen,  is  not  in  the  Creed  in 
any  merely  outward  and  mechanical  way.  It  appears  there  as  a 
necessary  part  of  the  general  mystery  of  faith,  being  absolutel}'  re- 
quired, just  where  it  comes  into  view,  to  carry  forward  the  signifi- 
cance and  power  of  the  Christian  salvation,  from  what  goes  before 
to  what  follows  after;  being  nothing  less  in  truth  than  the  connect- 
ing link  between  the  mission  of  the  Iloh'  Ghost,  and  the  full  course 
of  grace  subsequentlj'  in  the  experience  of  believers.  In  this  view, 
the  article  could  not  be  dropjjcd  from  the  system,  nor  transposed 
in  it  to  any  different  place,  without  marring  its  organic  conn)lete- 
ness  throughout;  as  on   the  other  hand  the  article  itself,  so  torn 


560  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

from  its  connections,  could  no  longer  retain  its  own  proper  mean- 
ing as  an  object  of  faith.  So  it  is  indeed  with  all  the  articles  of 
the  Creed.  The  symbol  is  not  so  much  a  number  of  separate  acts 
of  fjiith  brought  together  in  a  common  confession,  as  one  single  act 
rather  compassing  at  once  the  whole  range  of  the  new  creation  from 
its  commencement  to  its  close.  It  has  to  do  with  its  successive 
points,  not  as  disjointed  notions  merely,  but  as  concrete  forces  be- 
longing to  the  constitution  of  a  common  living  whole.  Its  articles 
are  bound  together  thus,  with  indissoluble  connection,  from  begin- 
ning to  end.  To  believe  an3'^  one  part  of  it  in  its  own  sense,  is  im- 
plicitly at  least  to  believe  every  other  part ;  for  the  truth  of  every 
part  stands  in  its  relation  to  the  whole  system  in  which  it  is  com- 
prehended, and  if  it  be  not  apprehended  in  these  relations  it  cannot 
be  said  to  be  apprehended  and  believed  in  its  own  proper  sense  at 
all. 

In  this  way  it  is,  that  the  article  of  the  Church  in  the  Creed  is 
conditioned  by  the  sense  of  the  formulary  at  other  points;  as  these 
other  points  are  conditioned  also  by  it  again  in  their  turn.  There 
can  be  no  true  faith  in  the  resurrection  and  glorification  of  Christ, 
and  none  in  th6  consequent  sending  of  the  Hoh^  Ghost,  where  it  is 
not  felt  necessar}'  to  follow  out  still  farther  the  objective  progress 
of  the  mystery,  and  say:  "I  believe  in  the  Holy  Catholic  Church;" 
and  so,  on  the  other  hand,  there  can  be  no  true  faith  in  the  Church, 
where  it  is  not  perceived  to  be  the  necessary  outbirth  in  this  way  of 
these  glorious  antecedents,  leading  on  to  it,  and  making  room  for  it 
in  the  world.  It  is  not  an}^  and  eA'ery  way  of  owning  the  Church 
that  can  be  said  to  satisfy  the  requirement  of  the  Creed;  as  it  is 
not  enough  for  it  either  to  own  in  any  and  every  way  the  mission 
of  the  Holy  Ghost. 


As  the  Creed  is  constructed  within  itself,  in  the  way  now  stated, 
on  a  theological  scheme  which  is  peculiarly  its  own,  and  which  de- 
termines the  true  sense  of  it  at  every  point,  requiring  all  its  articles 
to  be  understood  in  one  manner  onlj'  and  not  in  another;  so  it  is 
easy  to  see,  how  it  must  in  this  wa^^  also  draw  after  it  a  correspond- 
ing construction  of  all  Christian  doctrine  beyond  itself,  imparting 
to  it  in  like  manner  the  power  of  its  own  principle  and  life.  By  its 
very  conception,  the  formulary  is  archetypal  and  regulative  for  the 
whole  world  of  Christian  truth.  It  does  not  pretend  to  exhaust 
the  necessary  topics  of  divinity  ;  it  leaves  room  for  a  broad  field  of 
confessionalism  beyond  itself.  But  still,  if  it  be  indeed  what  it 
claims  to  be,  a  true  scheme  of  what  ai'e  to  be  considered  the  first 


Chap.  XLIII]  TiiorGiiTS  on  the  church  561 

principles  of  tiie  oracles  of  God,  it  must  necessarily  rule  the  order 
and  shape  of  all  such  additional  belief  throughout;  in  such  wa3' 
that  no  doctrine  or  article  of  faith  shall  deserve  to  be  counted  or- 
thodox, except  as  it  may  stand  in  the  bosom  of  the  same  scheme, 
growing  forth  from  it,  and  carrying  out  the  scope  of  it  in  a  natural 
and  regular  way.  All  later  confessionalism,  to  be  genuine  and 
valid,  must  have  its  genesis  or  birth  from  the  Apostles'  Creed, 
must  refer  itself  to  this  as  the  real  matrix  of  its  growth  and  develop- 
ment. 

There  must  ever  be  a  wide  difference  thus  between  a  system  of 
thought  in  which  this  order  of  ftiith  is  acknowledged  and  observed, 
and  a  system  of  thought  in  which  it  is  disowned  and  disregarded; 
the  theological  system  of  the  Creed  and  a  theological  system  made 
to  rest  on  au}^  other  basis ;  theology  in  the  churchlj'  and  theology 
in  the  unchurchly  form;  a  difference  not  confined  to  the  immedi- 
ate topics  of  the  Creed  itself,  but  extending  through  these  to 
all  to])ics  ;  a  difference  not  so  much  turning  on  single  outward 
propositions,  (though  on  this  also  to  some  extent,)  as  it  is  to  be 
measured  rather  In'  the  inward  life  of  such  propositions,  the  way 
in  which  they  are  understood,  their  spirit,  their  general  purpose 
and  aim.  Xo  Christian  doctrine  can  be  held  under  exactly  the 
same  form,  within  the  system  of  the  Creed,  and  on  the  outside  of 
this  system.  Thus  it  is,  that  the  authority  of  the  symbol  reaches 
out  to  all  points  of  faith,  and  pervades  with  its  presence  the  whole 
range  of  evangelical  truth,  making  it  necessar}'  for  every  theological 
article  to  be  held  in  full  conformity  with  this  fundamental  rule,  in 
order  that  it  may  have  a  right  to  be  considered  orthodox  and  true. 

It  is  not  enough,  for  example,  to  acknowledge  the  proi)hetical, 
priestly,  and  kingly  ofllces  of  Christ,  if  they  be  set  in  no  union 
with  the  true  api)reherision  of  his  Mediatorial  Person.  It  is  not 
enough  to  maintain  infant  baptism,  if  we  refuse  to  own  at  the  same 
time  the  relation  which  the  sacrament  is  made  to  bear  in  the  Creed 
to  the  remission  of  sins.  It  is  not  enough  to  confess  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  Scriptures,  if  it  be  not  with  faith  first  in  the  Church  ; 
as  though  without  such  an  apprehension  of  the  Christian  mystery 
as  leads  immediately  on  from  Christ's  glorification, and  the  sending 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  to  this  great  fact,  it  might  l»e  possible  for  any 
one,  leaping  over  it  as  it  were  and  having  no  sensi'  of  its  jiresence, 
to  come  in  some  other  way  altogether  to  firm  faith  in  the  Bible,  as 
God's  infallil)le  word,  and  so  through  this  afterwards  to  a  full  and 
complete  scheme  of  evangelical  religion. 

The  Bil)le.  great  as  it  is  in  the  scheme  of  Christianity,  could  not 


502  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1801  [DiV.  X 

be  substituted  for  the  Church,  in  the  phice  assigned  to  it  as  an  ar- 
ticle of  faith,  in  the  Creed,  without  violence  to  the  whole  order  and 
sense  of  the  Creed.  In  the  view  of  this  archetypal  symbol,  it 
comes  rightly  for  all  real  faith  not  before  the  Church,  but  after  it.. 
It  is  not  the  principle  or  beginning  of  Christianity,  though  it  be 
truly  its  rule.  It  shines  as  a  light  from  heaven  in  the  Church^and 
was  never  intended  to  be  a  sufficient  and  final  light  for  the  world, 
as  such,  on  the  outside  of  the  Church.  Rationalism,  Naturalism, 
Humanitarianism,  of  all  shapes  and  types,  taking  it  in  such  wrong 
view,  however  much  stress  they  may  affect  to  lay  on  its  authority, 
never  receive  it  truly  as  God's  word,  have  no  power  to  understand 
it,  and  in  their  use  of  it  make  it  for  themselves,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  a  mere  ignis  fat aus^  all  the  world  over,  all  "  blind  leaders  of 
the  blind."  It  would  be  an  appalling  spectacle,  only  to  see  in  fact 
what  an  amount  of  actual  infidelity — disobedience  to  the  faith — is 
sheltered  in  our  time  beneath  the  specious  plea  of  honoring  the 
Bible  in  this  false  way. 


In  view  of  such  a  generic  difference  holding  between  the  two 
systems,  the  churchly  scheme  of  Christianity  and  the  unchurchl^-, 
the  theology  of  the  Creed  and  its  opposite — a  difference  which  lies 
so  deep  and  reaches  so  fixr — it  becomes  a  matter  of  peculiar  inter- 
est to  determine  precisely  what  its  whole  character  signifies  and 
means.  In  one  case,  as  we  haA'e  seen,  the  Church  is  taken  to  be  an 
essential  constituent  of  the  mystery  of  godliness,  while  in  the 
other  it  is  considered  an  arrangement  belonging  to  it  only  in  an 
outward,  adventitious  way.  Here  we  get  back  to  the  last  sense  of 
the  Church  Question  ;  which  is  found  to  be  at  the  same  time 
strangely  implicated  with  the  right  construction  of  the  Creed,  con- 
ditioning in  truth  the  wa^-  in  which  all  its  Articles  are  to  be  under- 
stood. For  not  only  does  the  Creed  affirm  the  doctrine  of  the 
Church,  making  it  a  necessary  part  of  Christianity,  and  so  a  neces- 
sary object  of  faith ;  but  it  throws  the  entire  scheme  of  Chris- 
tianit}'  into  such  a  shape  and  form,  from  first  to  last,  as  impera- 
tivel3'  requires  the  doctrine  in  this  sense,  and  cannot  be  satisfied 
without  it.  The  Creed  is  constructed  throughout,  both  in  its  an- 
tecedent and  consequent  articles,  on  that  view  of  Christianity 
which  involves  the  idea  of  the  Church  in  the  form  now  stated,  and 
makes  it  necessary  for  it  to  come  into  view  just  where  it  does  in 
the  onward  flow  of  that  good  confession.  This  does  not  impl}^, 
however,  that  the  Creed  starts  from  the  idea  of  the  Church  as  its 
own  proper  principle.     That  which  is  the  first  question  in  regard 


Chap.  XLIII]  thoughts  on  the  church  563 

to  the  doctrine  of  tlie  Chiircli  itself,  namely,  Avhat  i)lace  is  to  lie 
ascribed  to  it  in  the  conception  of  Christianity,  is  not  just  the  first 
question  in  re<i:ard  to  the  theological  system  in  which  it  is  compre- 
hended as  a  necessary  article  of  faith. 

When  we  have  said,  therefore,  that  the  Church  is  made  in  the 
Creed  to  be  of  the  essence  of  Christianity,  and  that  all  the  articles 
of  the  symbol  are  so  framed  as  to  shut  faith  np  to  this  conclusion, 
and  that  it  leads  on  thus  to  an  entire  theology  of  answerable  form 
and  com|>lexion  throughout — it  remains  still  to  ask  :  What  then  is 
that  peculiarity  of  doctrine  in  the  Creed,  that  distinguishing  quality 
of  faith,  back  of  its  doctrine  of  the  Church,  which  calls  this  forth 
in  its  order,  gives  to  it  all  its  force,  and  imparts  what  we  call  a 
churchlv  character  to  the  universal  scheme  of  religion  into  which 
it  enters  as  an  organic  part?  What  is  the  root  or  beginning  of  the 
broad  difference,  which  reigns  between  the  Catholic  Christianity-  of 
the  first  ages  and  the  Puritanic  Christianity  of  modern  times,  be- 
tween the  theology  which  breathes  the  spirit  of  the  Creed  and  the 
theology  which  breathes  a  different  spirit,  between  the  churchly  con- 
struction of  the  Gospel  and  the  unchurchly  ?  It  is  not  eas}-  to  con- 
ceive of  a  theological  in(]uiry  more  interesting  than  this,  or  more 
worthy  of  being  followed  out  with  right  study  to  a  right  answ-er. 


Were  we  called  upon  to  give  in  a  word  the  distinguishing  pecu- 
liarity of  the  Creed,  in  the  view  suggested  by  the  inquiry,  we 
should  place  it  in  the  hit^toricnl  character  it  assigns  to  the  Chris- 
tian salvation,  regarded  as  a  supernatural  process  of  grace,  in  op- 
])osition  to  every  scheme  which  resolves  it  into  a  matter  of  mere 
speculative  thought.  Its  doctrine  of  the  Church  falls  back  on  its 
doctrine  of  Christ ;  and  this  is  made  to  include,  from  first  to  last, 
the  conception  of  a  real  union  between  the  divine  and  the  human, 
the  life  of  God  and  the  life  of  man,  in  the  person  of  the  Mediator, 
carrying  along  with  it  the  work  of  redemption,  as  the  process  of  a 
new  creation  in  the  bosom  of  the  old,  onward  to  the  end  of  time. 

In  the  Creed,  as  in  the  New  Testament,  Christianity  has  its  last 
ground  in  the  mystery  of  the  Ever  Blessed  and  Glorious  Trinity; 
which  is  exhibited  as  an  object  for  faith,  however,  not  so  much  in 
the  light  of  a  doctrine,  as  in  the  light  of  a  fact,  opening  the  way 
for  the  revelation  which  God  has  been  jileased  to  make  of  himself 
through  the  mystery  of  the  Incarnation.  This  forms,  accordingly, 
an  act  of  self-manifestation  on  the  part  of  God,  by  which  he  is  to 
be  regarded  as  coming  into  the  world  in  a  sense  in  which  he  had 
not  been  in  it  before,  for  the  purpose  of  redeeming  and  saving  men 


564  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

from  their  sins.  Tlie  Word  became  Flesh.  That  is  the  beginning 
of  the  Gospel  of  Jesns  Christ;  and  power  to  own  and  confess  it, 
not  as  a  dogma  merelj',  bnt  as  a  simple  historical  fact,  is  the  be- 
ginning of  all  faith  in  the  proper  evangelical  sense  of  the  term. 
The  beginning  of  all  heresy-,  on  the  other  hand,  lies  in  the  open  or 
virtual  denial  of  this  great  mystery.  Hence  St.  John's  memorable 
touch-stone  for  distinguishing  true  Christianity  from  that  which  is 
spurious  and  false.  "  Every  spirit  that  confesseth  that  Jesus  Christ 
is  come  in  the  flesh,"  he  tells  us,  "is  of  God;  and  every  spirit  that 
confesseth  not  that  Jesus  Christ  is  come  in  the  flesh,  is  not  of  God; 
and  this  is  that  spirit  of  antichrist,  whereof  ye  have  heard  that  it 
should  come;  and  even  now  already  is  it  in  the  world." 

The  spirit  of  antichrist,  in  this  way,  is  the  rationalistic  temper 
of  the  natural  mind,  which  substitutes  for  the  mystery  of  the  In- 
carnation in  its  proper  form  a  mere  notional  construction  of  Christ's 
person,  in  which,  after  all,  no  real  historical  union  of  the  divine 
nature  with  the  human  is  allowed  to  have  place;  setting  up  thus  in 
opposition  to  the  true  Christ  a  false  shadowy  image,  a  mere  spirit- 
ualistic phantom,  which  is  made  to  counterfeit  his  name  and  usurp 
his  place.  Over  against  all  such  rationalistic  spiritualism,  the 
Creed  makes  full  earnest  with  the  criterion  of  St.  John.  It  takes 
up  and  carries  out  in  its  own  simple,  historical  way,  that  notable 
confession  of  Peter:  "Thou  art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  Living 
God ; "  in  reference  to  which  our  Saviour  said :  "  Blessed  art  thou, 
Simon  Bar-jona;  for  flesh  and  blood  hath  not  revealed  it  unto  thee, 
but  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 

The  merit  of  Peter's  faith  stood  in  its  power  to  break  over  the 
natural  order  of  the  world,  so  as  to  see  and  acknowledge  in  the 
person  of  Christ,  there  actually  before  him,  the  presence  of  a  new 
and  higher  form  of  existence,  joining  the  nature  of  God  with  the 
nature  of  man  in  a  Avay  transcending  all  common  understanding 
and  thought.  Thou,  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  it  could  say — whom  we 
know  to  be  in  all  respects  a  real  man  like  ourselves,  and  no  spirit 
merely  in  human  show — Thou,  the  Son  of  Mary,  art  at  the  same 
time  the  Son  of  the  Most  High  God,  and  as  such  the  Messiah,  the 
true  Saviour  of  the  world.  Such  precisely  is  the  confession,  which 
forms  the  bui'den  of  the  Apostles'  Creed.  Its  theme  may  be  said 
to  be  throughout,  "Christ  come  in  the  flesh."  In  that  fact,  the  ob- 
jective mj^stery  of  godliness  (1  Tim.  3:  16),  it  sees  the  whole  ful- 
ness of  salvation,  the  entire  economy  of  redemption;  and  it  la^^s 
itself  out,  accordingl}^  to  set  it  forth  in  its  necessary  conditions 
and  consequences,  under  a  purel}'  historical  view,  as  the  proper 


Chap.  XLIII]  tiioi  giit-s  on  the  ciiuuch  565 

substance  of  Christianity,  the  one  grand  object  of  all  true  Chris- 
tian faith. 

So  apprehended,  the  Gospel  is  in  no  sense  theoretical,  but  su- 
premely practical.  It  is  tlie  presence  of  a  supernatural  fact  in  the 
world,  confronting  men  under  an  outward  form,  carrying  in  itself 
objectively  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come,  and  challenging  actual 
submission  to  its  claims  in  such  view  as  the  onl}^  way  in  which  it 
is  possible  to  be  saved.  Faith  has  to  do  in  the  case,  first  of  all, 
not  with  an}'  doctrines  which  may  be  supposed  to  flow  from  the 
fact,  but  with  the  fact  itself  as  a  simple  matter  of  history;  the 
history  being,  however,  at  the  same  time,  supernatural,  out  of  the 
whole  ordinary  course  of  things  in  the  world,  and  requiring,  there- 
fore, a  very  different  kind  of  belief  from  that  which  is  needed  to 
take  up  the  facts  of  history  in  its  common  human  form.  It  is  a 
great  thing — too  great  for  the  reach  of  mere  natural  thought — to 
l>elieve  truly  that  Christ  has  come  in'the  flesh;  tliat  Jesus  was  no 
mere  man  attended  by  the  extraordinary'  inspiration  of  the  Al- 
mighty, according  to  the  old  Ebionitic  view;  and  yet  no  mere 
shadow  cither,  according  to  any  of  the  old  Gnostic  theories;  but 
that  in  him  the  "Word  became  actually  and  enduringly  incarnate 
for  us  men  and  for  our  salvation. 

On  this  supernatural  fact  the  Creed  fastens  its  whole  attention, 
referring  it  to  its  necessary  origin,  and  following  it  out  steadily 
to  its  necessary  results,  all  in  the  way  of  simple  historical  appre- 
hension and  conception.  Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  we  are  required 
to  believe,  came  down  from  heaven,  and  was  incarnate  by  the  Holy 
Ghost  of  the  Virgin  Marj',  and  was  made  man.  He  suffered,  died, 
descended  into  hades.  But  it  was  not  possible  that  he  should  be 
held  under  the  power  of  death.  He  rose  again ;  He  ascended  on 
high,  leading  captivity  captive,  and  having  all  power  given  unto 
Him  in  heaven  and  in  earth.  All  this  served  only  to  prepare  the 
way  for  His  kingdom  in  the  world,  through  the  mission  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  His  great  ascension  gift,  and  the  constitution  of  the  Church, 
which  is  declared  by  St.  Paul  to  be  His  body,  the  fulness  of  Him 
tliat  lilleth  all  in  all,  and  with  which  He  has  himself  promised  to  be 
present  alwa^'s  to  the  end  of  time.  In  the  Church,  accordingly,  as 
distinguished  from  the  natural  constitution  of  the  world,  the  new 
order  of  grace  brought  to  pass  by  the  victory  of  Christ  over  sin, 
death,  and  hell,  runs  its  course  from  age  to  age,  in  the  salvation  of 
all  true  believers.  "We  confess  one  baptism  for  the  remission  of 
sins;  we  look  for  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  and  the  life  of  the 
world  to  come." 


CHAPTER   XLIV 

DR.  NEVIN  was  born  and  educated  in  a  Calvinistic  Church 
and  in  his  younger  days  it  is  not  probable  that  he  ever  pre- 
sumed to  question  the  doctrine  of  divine  predestination  as  taught 
in  the  Westminster  Confession  of  Faith.  When  he  became  pro- 
fessor of  theology  at  Mercersburg  he  still  held  it  in  a  moderate 
sense,  but  seldom,  if  ever,  preached  on  the  suliject.  After  stating 
the  doctrine  cautiouslj^  in  its  different  phases  to  his  classes,  he  was 
accustomed  to  close  his  remarks  by  saying  that  the  whole  subject 
was  "a  deep,  unfathomable  mystery.''  In  the  progress  of  his  theo- 
logical thinking  he  came  to  feel  that  it  could  not  in  all  respects  be 
made  to  harmonize  with  Calvin's  doctrine  of  the  Lord's  Supper, 
and  he  allowed  his  view  of  the  decrees  to  be  considerably  modified. 
He  was  also  led  to  believe  that  it  could  not  be  reconciled  with 
Scriptural  views  of  the  Church,  This  conflict  he  sought  to  point 
out  in  the  Mercershurg  Review^  in  the  April  and  July  numbers,  in 
a  review  of  Dr.  Hodge's  Commentary  on  the  Ephesians.  The  two 
articles  fill  out  ninety-two  pages,  of  which  we  here  supply  the  reader 
with  the  leading  paragraphs,  containing  the  main  argument. 

The  distinguished  character  and  high  position  of  the  author  of 
this  work,  taken  in  connection  with  the  wide  significance  of  its 
subject,  must  be  allowed  on  all  hands  to  clothe  it  with  more  than 
ordinary  claims  to  attention.  The  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians  is  of 
cardinal  authority,  in  particular  for  the  doctrine  of  the  Church; 
and  it  forms  in  such  view  the  key,  we  ma}'  sa}^,  for  the  right  under- 
standing of  all  St.  Paul's  Epistles  generall}^,  which  must  serve  of 
course  also,  at  the  same  time,  to  open  the  true  sense  of  all  the  other 
Epistles  of  the  New  Testament.  Knowing  this,  we  could  not  be 
indifferent  to  the  view  that  might  be  taken  of  it  by  such  a  man  as 
Dr.  Hodge.  His  theory  of  the  Church,  as  it  has  been  presented  to 
the  world  in  various  ways,  is  commonly  understood  to  be  very 
low;  so  low  indeed,  that  it  has  given  serious  dissatisfaction  to 
many  in  his  own  communion.  It  has  been  a  matter  of  interest  with 
us  to  see  how  such  a  theory  would  be  applied  in  his  hands  to  the 
interpretation  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians.  We  have,  accord- 
ingly, examined  the  new  Commentary  with  respectful  consideration 
and  care;  and  having  done  so,  we  propose  now  to  make  it  the  oc- 

(566) 


Chap.  XLIV]  iiodge  on  the  ephesians  567 

casiou  for  some  earnest  criticism  and  discussion,  in  our  present 
article. 

It  is  hardh-  necessary  to  say,  that  this  Comjnentary  of  Dr.  Hodge 
is  constructed  upon  a  general  theory  of  the  nature  of  Christianity, 
thus  previously  established  and  fixed  in  his  own  mind.  If  it  were 
not  so,  the  work  would  be  entitled  to  but  small  regard.  We  find 
no  fault  with  it  merely  on  this  ground.  Only  let  the  fact  be  fairly 
understood  and  kept  in  sight;  that  we  may  make  due  account  of  it, 
in  examining  the  work  itself.  It  is  not  an  attempt  to  explain  the 
Epistle  to  the  Ephesians  purely  and  exclusively-  from  its  own  text, 
and  without  any  sort  of  theological  preconception  or  bias.  It  can 
hardh"  be  said,  indeed,  to  pretend  to  such  independence.  However 
it  may  suit  the  view  of  some  to  make  light  of  all  authority  in  this 
form,  and  to  look  upon  tradition  of  every  kind  as  an  embarrassment 
to  the  right  use  of  the  Scriptures  more  than  a  help,  we  meet  with 
no  such  pedantry  in  Dr.  Hodge.  He  has  his  theological  S3'stem, 
his  ecclesiastical  tradition,  that  serves  him  continually  as  a  medium 
through  which  to  study  the  features  and  proportions  of  the  inspired 
text.  Neither  is  it  diflicult  at  all  to  determine  the  character  of  this 
system.  It  is  well  defined,  oi)enly  acknowledged,  and  for  the  most 
part,  though  not  always,  consistently  maintained.  We  maj'  see  at 
once,  in  such  circumstance,  how  necessarj-  it  is  that  we  should  try 
the  merits  of  the  S3-stem,  in  order  to  estimate  aright  the  merits  of 
the  Commentary. 

No  one  can  have  read  the  Epistles  of  the  New  Testament  with  any 
sort  of  attention,  without  being  made  sensible  in  his  own  mind  of 
a  certain  difficult}'  in  them,  standing  not  so  much  in  particular  pas- 
sages as  in  the  whole  hypothesis  which  is  made  to  underlie  their 
construction.  Two  seemingly  opposite  views  are  embraced  in  this, 
which  it  is  found  exceedingly  hard  to  reconcile  or  hold  in  steady 
union.     Let  us  endeavor  to  exemplify  and  explain. 

Nothing  can  be  more  clear,  in  the  first  i)lace,  than  that  these 
Epistles  are  not  addressed  to  tlie  world  at  large  in  its  natural  char- 
acter and  state.  For  the  world  in  such  view,  the  Gospel  univer- 
sally has  but  one  form  of  address.  It  calls  on  all  men  everywhere 
to  "repent  and  believe,"  to  submit  themselves  to  Christ,  to  be 
"converted,"  to  be  "baptized  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ  for  the 
remission  of  sins,"  as  the  absolutely  indispensable  condition  of  holi- 
ness and  salvation,  "  He  that  believeth  and  is  baptized,"  the  proc- 
lamation runs,  "shall  be  saved;  but  he  that  believeth  not  shall  be 
damned."  AH  depends  on  this  obedience  of  fiiith.  All  begins  here. 
Without  this  preliminary  act  of  submission  to  Christ's  authorit}-, 


568  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

the  opportunities  and  possibilities  of  grace  in  any  farther  view  are 
not  regarded  as  being  at  hand  for  the  use  of  men  at  all.  The 
Gospel  never  oflers  its  grace  for  the  purposes  of  sanctification,  to 
those  who  refuse  to  place  themselves  by  such  preliminary  obedience, 
within  the  range  and  scope  of  its  supernatural  provisions;  and  it 
never  allows  itself,  therefore,  to  waste  upon  such  its  lessons  of  piety 
or  its  motives  to  a  holy  life.  So  with  these  New  Testament  Epis- 
tles. They  are  full  of  doctrine,  instruction  in  righteousness,  warn- 
ings, admonitions,  promises,  encouragements  to  Christian  duty; 
but  all  this  for  a  certain  class  of  persons  only,  and  not  for  the  race 
of  mankind  indiscriminately. 

This  is  at  once  evident  from  their  inscriptions  and  salutations. 
They  are  addressed  not  to  countries  or  towns  as  such,  but  to  par- 
ticular bodies  of  people  in  them  separated  and  distinguished  in 
some  way  from  the  world  in  general.  St.  Jude  writes.  "To  them 
that  are  sanctified  by  God  the  Father,  and  preserved  in  Jesus 
Christ,  and  called."  St.  Peter,  in  one  place,  "To  them  that  have 
obtained  like  precious  faith  with  us,  through  the  righteousness  of 
God  and  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ;"  in  another,  to  dispersed 
strangers  of  Pontus,  Galatia,  &c.,  who  are  regarded,  at  the  same 
time,  as  gathered  together  and  elect  "according  to  the  foreknowl- 
edge of  God  the  Father,  through  sanctification  of  the  Spirit,  unto 
obedience  and  sprinkling  of  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ."  So  in 
every  Epistle  of  St.  Paul.  One  is:  "To  all  that  be  in  Rome,  be- 
loved of  God,  called  to  be  saints;"  another:  "Unto  the  Church  of 
God  which  is  at  Corinth,  to  them  that  are  sanctified  in  Christ 
Jesus,  called  to  be  saints;"  a  third:  "Unto  the  church  of  God 
which  is  at  Corinth,  with  all  the  saints  which  are  in  all  Achaia;"  a 
fourth:  "Unto  the  churches  of  Galatia; "  a  fifth:  "To  the  saints 
which  are  at  Ephesus,  and  to  the  faithful  in  Christ  Jesus;"  and  in 
similar  st3le  throughout.  And  the  restriction  thus  made  in  the 
first  address  is  alwaj^s  carefully'  observed  in  every  Epistle  on  to 
the  end.  The  writers  do  not  allow  themselves  to  fall  away  from 
the  conception  with  which  they  start,  by  gliding  into  an}-  more 
loose  and  general  view.  They  have  before  their  mind  alwa3s,  not 
men  at  large,  but  the  particular  class  or  description  of  persons  to 
whom  they  address  themselves  in  the  beginning.  Their  instruc- 
tions and  exhortations  are  everywhere  for  the  "Church,"  for  the 
"Called,"  for  those  who  are  known  as  the  "Faithful  in  Christ 
Jesus." 

All  this,  we  sa}^,  forms  one  general  aspect,  under  which  the  con- 
ception of  Christianity  is  continuall}-  presented  to  us  in  the  New 


ClIAP.  XLIV]  IIODGE    ON    THE    EPHESIANS  569 

Testament  Epistles.  Along  with  this,  however,  in  the  second 
place,  there  runs  throughout  another  view,  which  seems  at  first  to 
look  in  quite  a  diflbrent  direction,  and  to  place  the  whole  subject 
in  a  new  and  different  light.  It  ma}'  be  denominated,  with  propriet}' 
perhaps,  the  human  side  of  the  case,  as  distinguished  from  its  di- 
vine side. 

Wo  are  confronted  with  it  at  once  in  all  those  repi*esentations, 
which  require  us  to  descend  from  the  idea  of  the  loft}-  privileges 
of  believers,  to  the  thought  of  the  manifold  infirmities  with  which 
they  are  still  compassed  about  in  their  present  state.  Who  has  not 
experienced  at  times  some  sense  of  incongruity,  in  passing  directly 
from  the  wonderful  terms  in  which  these  privileges  are  described 
b}'  St.  Peter  or  St.  Paul,  to  the  topics  of  ordinary  morality  they 
are  made  to  enforce  ?  It  sounds  strangely,  to  hear  those  who  are 
spoken  of  as  sitting  in  heavenly  places  in  Christ  Jesus,  exhorted, 
at  the  same  time,  to  avoid  the  most  common  sins,  such  as  lying  and 
stealing,  and  warned  against  "fellowship  with  the  unfruitful  works 
of  darkness  "  among  the  heathen,  including  things  done  by  them, 
in  secret,  of  which  it  was  a  "shame  even  to  speak."  It  sounds- 
strangely,  when  the  power  of  the  Spirit  and  the  power  of  the  flesh,, 
the  life  of  grace  and  the  life  of  nature,  are  brought  before  us  in 
such  close  proximity  as  we  find  ascribed  to  them  in  the  fifth  chap- 
ter of  the  Epistle  to  the  Galatians.  "Walk  in  the  Spirit,"  it  is 
there  said,  "and  ye  shall  not  fulfil  the  lust  of  the  flesh.  For  the 
flesh  lusteth  against  the  Spirit,  and  the  Spirit  against  the  flesh  :  and 
these  are  contrary  the  one  to  the  other ;  so  that  ye  cannot  do  the 
things  that  ye  would.  But  if  ye  be  led  by  the  Spirit,  ye  are  not 
under  the  law.  Now  the  works  of  the  flesh  are  manifest,  which  are 
these:  adulter}-,  fornication,  uncleanness,  lasciviousness,  idolatry, 
witchcraft,  etc."  The  occasion  for  admiration  here  is,  not  that 
such  sins  are  condemned  as  contrary  to  Christianity,  but  that  those 
who  are  addressed  should  be  supposed  to  be  at  all  liable  to  the 
power  of  them  in  the  immediate  and  near  way  that  seems  to  be 
implied  by  such  a  style  of  exhortation. 

Here  then  is  a  peculiar  and  different  problem  to  be  solved,  in  the- 
interpretation  of  these  Epistles.  How  are  we  to  bring  together  the 
two  sides  that  enter  thus  into  their  general  hypothesis  of  Chris- 
tianity, seemingly  incongruous  as  they  are,  in  such  a  way  that  we 
shall  have  a  result  doing  full  justice  to  both,  and  uniting  them  in 
real  logic-al  harmony  for  our  thoughts?  It  is  plain,  that  no  scheme 
of  exegesis  which  fails  to  do  this,  however  much  it  may  have  to 
recommend  it  on  other  grounds,  can  be  entitled  to  confidence;  since 
36 


570  IN   RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

it  must  be  constructed  on  a  A'iew  of  the  Gospel  different  from  that 
which  pervades  the  Epistles  themselves,  and  can  never  serve,  there- 
fore, as  a  sufficient  key  to  unlock  their  sense. 

Now  there  are  two  general  wa^'s  in  which  a  theory  of  interpreta- 
tion ma}^  wrong  the  New  Testament  conception  of  Christianity,  as 
we  have  just  had  it  under  consideration.  It  ma}'  not  do  justice  to 
the  first  side  of  the  hypothesis,  or  it  ma^^  not  do  justice  to  the 
second.  In  the  one  case,  we  shall  have  the  idea  of  nature  over- 
whelmed in  a  certain  sense  by  a  false  sublimation  of  the  idea  of 
grace ;  in  the  other  case,  the  order  will  be  reversed,  and  we  shall 
have  the  idea  of  grace  merged  and  lost  in  the  idea  of  nature.  For 
the  sake  of  distinction,  we  may  call  one  the  Calvinistic  and  the 
other  the  Arminian  tendency. 

The  Arminian  view  proceeds  on  the  supposition,  that  there  is  no 
essential  difference  between  the  order  of  nature  and  the  order  of 
grace.  It  acknowledges,  of  course,  the  existence  of  grace,  regarded 
as  a  supernatural  power  exerted  upon  the  minds  of  men  ;  but  this 
is  not  felt  to  depend  on  an^'  other  order  or  constitution  than  that 
of  the  world  under  a  simply  natural  view,  considered  in  the  general 
relation  which  it  sustains  to  God.  Man  in  his  natural  cliaracter  is 
possessed  of  intellectual  and  spiritual  faculties,  which  carry  his 
thoughts  above  and  beyond  the  present  world,  and  qualify  him  for 
entering  into  communication  with  the  realities  of  a  higher  life  in 
the  way  of  religion  ;  and  the  idea  here  is,  that  in  order  to  do  so,  he 
needs  no  other  help  than  what  is  comprehended  in  the  notion  of  a 
common  divine  influence  exercised  upon  his  powers  for  this  pur- 
pose. The  whole  conception  of  grace  thus  resolves  itself  into  this, 
that  God,  by  his  Spirit,  is  supposed  to  act  on  the  minds  of  men, 
just  as  they  are,  directlj^  and  indirectly,  without  any  intervention 
whatever;  and  it  is  supposed  also  to  depend  upon  themselves,  in 
the  use  of  their  natural  ability,  whether  such  gracious  influence 
shall  be  of  avail  or  not  for  the  purposes  of  salvation.  Such  a  view, 
of  course,  leaves  no  room  for  the  idea  of  the  Church,  as  a  real 
economy  or  constitution  different  from  the  world. 

How  completel}^  this  system  of  thought  fails  to  do  justice  to  the 
Epistles  of  the  New  Testament,  we  need  not  spend  time  now  in 
endeavoring  to  show.  Our  business  at  present  is  more  immediatel}' 
with  the  opposite  form  of  one-sided  thinking  presented  to  us  by 
the  Calvinistic  tendency- ;  for  this  it  is  that  governs  throughout  the 
New  Testament  exegesis  of  Dr.  Hodge,  as  it  comes  before  us  in  his 
Commentary  on  the  Epistles  to  the  Ephesians. 

Here  we  have  a  false  sublimation  of  the  idea  of  grace,  b}'  which 


Chap.  XLIV]  iiodge  on  the  ephesians  571 

ill  the  end  serious  wrong  is  done  to  the  proper  human  side  of  the 
Christian  salvation.  All  is  made  to  resolve  itself  into  divine 
agency,  under  such  a  form  as  fairly'  lifts  the  process  of  redemption 
out  of  the  sphere  of  man's  proper  life,  and  causes  it  to  go  forward 
in  another  and  different  sphere  altogether.  The  doctrine  of  elec- 
tion, turning  on  the  notion  of  an  absolute  unconditional  decree  in 
the  mind  of  God,  is  made  to  be  the  principle,  and  only  really  efli- 
cient  cause,  we  may  say,  of  the  whole  work.  God  having  of  his 
mere  good  pleasure  determined,  from  all  eternity,  to  save  a  certain 
fixed  number  of  persons  belonging  to  the  human  famil}',  and  not 
to  save  any  besides,  is  supposed  then  to  have  ordered  the  entire 
plan  of  redemption  in  subordination  to  this  purpose.  All  the  pro- 
visions of  His  grace,  including  the  fact  of  the  Incarnation  itself, 
the  atonement  made  by  Christ's  death,  the  benefits  of  His  resurrec- 
tion, the  mission  of  the  Ploly  Ghost,  the  establishment  of  the 
Church,  the  Bible,  the  ministry  of  reconciliation,  and  the  holy  sac- 
raments, are  conditioned  and  limited,  according  to  this  view,  hy 
the  settled  and  foregone  conclusion  which  it  is  proposed  to  reach 
by  their  means;  becoming,  nnder  such  aspect,  a  sort  of  outward 
mechanical  appai'atus  merel}'  in  its  service. 

The  result  is  an  ultra  spiritualistic,  shadow}-  idea  of  redemption, 
ill  which  no  real  union  is  allowed  after  all  to  have  place  between 
the  powers  of  heaven  and  tlie  necessities  of  earth;  and  in  full  cor- 
respondence with  this,  a  complete  dualism  is  brought  into  the  con- 
ception of  the  Christian  life  also,  regarded  as  the  subjective  or  ex- 
perimental appropriation,  on  the  part  of  believers,  of  the  grace 
thus  objectively  provided  on  their  behalf.  The  human  and  divine 
factors  are  indeed  both  acknowledged,  as  entering  in  some  way  to- 
gether into  the  process  of  conversion  and  sanctification;  but  no 
room  is  found  for  their  free  and  harmonious  co-operation.  God 
becomes  all,  and  man  practicall}'  nothing;  the  consequence  of 
which  here  again  is,  that  religion  becomes  a  scheme  of  mere  ab- 
stract spiritualism,  which,  carried  out  consistently',  can  hardly  fall 
to  turn  it  at  last  into  a  cloud-like  phantom  or  hollow  shadow,  the 
counterpart  in  full  of  its  own  profoundly  kindred  error,  the  chris- 
tological  dream  of  the  ancient  Gnostics. 

For  the  application  of  this  system  to  the  exposition  of  the  New 
Testament,  we  could  have  no  better  example  than  Dr.  Hodge's 
Commentary  on  the  Epistle  to  the  PJphesians.  It  proceeds  upon 
the  Calvinistic  hypothesis,  as  now  described,  from  beginning  to 
end.  So  far  as  we  can  see,  too,  he  does  not  shrink  from  acknowl- 
edging this  hypothesis  in   its  only   fully   consistent  form,  the  sii- 


572  IN   RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

pralfipsarian  conception,  we  mean, as  held  b}^  Calvin  himself, though 
not  generally  b^^  his  followers.  According  to  that  conception,  as 
is  well  known,  the  decree  of  election,  issuing  in  the  salvation  of 
the  elect  as  the  last  end  of  God's  works,  so  far  as  man  is  concerned, 
is  taken  to  precede  and  govern  in  the  order  of  being,  not  simply 
the  idea  of  redemption,  but  the  idea  also  of  the  fall  itself;  the 
amount  of  which  is,  that  God,  having  in  mind  his  own  glorification 
in  the  salvation  of  the  elect  and  perdition  of  the  non-elect,  deter- 
mined first  the  creation  of  the  race,  and  then  its  fall,  in  order  to 
make  room  for  what  was  his  ulterior  purpose  in  that  other  form. 
Dr.  Hodge  does  not,  indeed,  in  so  many  words,  adopt  this  supra- 
lapsarian  theory ;  but  it  is  the  only  view,  we  think,  that  suits  what 
he  says  of  the  predestination  of  a  fixed  number  of  human  beings, 
from  all  eternity,  to  everlasting  life.  It  is  certain,  at  all  events, 
that  this  decree  is  made  b}^  him  to  be  the  |Jr^nc^p^^H7^  of  everything 
that  is  comprehended  in  the  scheme  of  redemption  itself,  and  that 
all  its  arrangements  and  proAisions,  accordingly,  are  considered  as 
being  circumscribed  and  limited  hy  it  in  their  force.  Thej^  are 
universally  for  the  elect  only,  and  no  part  of  the  fallen  world  be- 
sides. Their  scope  and  etlicienc}'  are  absolutely  bounded  by  the 
range  of  this  narrow  circle,  unalterably  settled  in  the  Divine  mind 
from  all  eternity,  and  cannot  be  said  to  extend  beyond  this  really 
in  any  direction  whatever. 

Predestination  in  this  sense,  and  no  other,  is  the  ''  primal  foun- 
tain," we  are  told,  "of  all  spiritual  blessings,"  as  involving  for  the 
saints  their  "  election  to  holiness  before  the  foundation  of  the 
world."  The  m3!'stery  of  the  Incarnation  thus  took  place  only  for 
the  elect,  whom  it  was  determined  beforehand  thus  to  save.  Aside 
from  them,  it  Avould  not  have  occurred  at  all ;  and  for  the  rest  of 
the  world  it  has  in  fact  no  saving  purpose  or  power  of  any  sort. 
The  J  rest  of  the  world  is  not  in  a  salvable  state;  for  the  economy 
of  the  Gospel  is  such,  that  the  principle  of  its  grace,  considered 
here  as  an  absolute  decree  in  the  Divine  mind,  cannot  be  said  to 
reach  even  potentially  those  who  stand  outside  the  circumference 
of  this  decree.  Sah^ation,  as  a  possibilit}"  only?  h^s  just  as  little 
significance  for  them,  as  it  would  have  if  they  belonged  to  another 
world  entirel3^  Power  to  become  the  sons  of  God,  the  great  priv- 
ilege and  prerogative  of  as  many  as  receive  Christ  (John  1  :  12), 
belong,  exclusively,  to  the  elect.  All  others  are  doomed  to  hope- 
less impenitency  and  unbelief.  Alas,  what  should  they  believe,  if 
this  view  of  the  Gospel  b.e  itself  the  very  truth  of  God  which  the}' 
are  bound,  under  pain  of  damnation,  to  receive?     For  any  of  the 


Chap.  XLIY]  iiodge  on  the  ephesians  573 

non-elect  to  believe  that  Christ  died  for  tJwm,  or  that  he  is  willing 
now  to  save  them,  must  be,  according  to  Dr.  Hodge's  scheme,  to 
believe  what  is  a])Soliitely  and  eternall}'  untrue.  To  agree  at  all 
with  the  actual  truth  of  things,  their  faith  inust  own  and  confess 
precisely'  the  reverse. 

All  this,  we  know,  sounds  monstrous  enough.  But  we  hold  it 
to  be  a  perfectl}-  fair,  unvarnished  representation  of  the  theology, 
which  Dr.  Hodge  has  brought  with  him  as  the  compass  and  pole- 
star  of  his  observations  on  St.  Paul's  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians. 
The  doctrine  of  election,  as  he  holds  it,  involves  beyond  the  possi- 
bility of  logical  escape,  the  notion  of  a  corresponding  partiality 
and  limitation  in  all  the  arrangements  of  grace.  Make  such  a  de- 
cree the  principle  of  salvation,  and  it  must  necessarily  reduce  the 
means  of  salvation  throughout  to  the  measure  of  its  own  action 
and  intention.  It  will  be  no  longer  true,  that  Christ  died  for  all 
men,  made  atonement  for  all,  triumphed  over  death  for  all,  and  now 
reigns  head  over  all  things  to  the  Church  for  all,  having  sent  forth 
His  ministers  to  preach  repentance  and  foith  to  all,  that  the^'  might 
be  saved.  Regarded  as  a  merely  external  administration  indeed, 
Christianity  ma}-  claim  and  appear  also  to  possess  such  universality 
of  character.  But  looking  to  its  proper  spiritual  econoni}',  we  find 
all  to  be  different.  In  God's  mind,  it  is  a  plan  to  save  the  elect 
only ;  the  agency  of  his  Spirit  goes  along  with  it,  to  make  it  cer- 
tainly elllcacious  for  this  end  ;  beyond  this,  it  carries  in  it  neither 
purpose  nor  power  of  grace  for  any  of  the  children  of  men. 

How  exceedingly  arbitrary  all  this  is,  and  how  little  it  agrees 
with  the  plain  text  of  St.  Paul  himself,  it  is  not  our  business  just 
now  to  show.  We  bring  it  forward  simply  to  exemplify  the  view 
which  Dr.  Hodge  takes  of  the  Church,  from  one  end  of  his  Com- 
mentary to  the  other.  It  agrees  in  full  with  his  conception  of  the 
nature  of  Christianity,  as  being  essentially  a  scheme  of  pure  abstract 
spiritualism,  starting  in  the  election  of  certain  individuals  to  salva- 
tion, and  having  no  real  significance  or  force  beyond  the  carrying 
out  of  this  purpose,  which,  at  the  same  time,  it  cannot  foil  infallibl}' 
to  reach.  Under  no  such  aspect  can  the  Church  be  regarded  as  an 
outward  and  visible  organization,  carrying  in  it  as  such  the  powers 
of  a  higher  world.  Indeed  it  can  be  no  organization  at  all;  except 
in  the  character  of  a  mental  notion  merely  emi)loyed  to  generalize 
what  are  held  to  be  the  common  attributes  of  its  constituent  mem- 
bers, as  they  are  known  certainly  to  God,  though  with  no  certainty 
to  the  Avorld  or  to  one  another.  It  answers  only  to  the  invisible 
process  of  redemption,  as  it  lies  behind  the  dnimatic  show  with 


.574  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861     •  [DiV.  X 

which  it  is  made  to  play  its  part  in  tlie  outward  world,  and  not  at 
all  to  this  show  itself.  These  two  conceptions  fall  asnnder  com- 
pletely. There  is  no  inward  connection  between  them.  The  in- 
visible fact  and  the  visible  fact  come  to  no  organic  union  whatever. 
They  do  not  meet  together  in  the  idea  of  any  single  constitution, 
but  present  to  our  contemplation  always  what  must  be  regarded  as 
two  Churches,  in  truth,  instead  of  one.  The  scheme  in  this  view  is 
grossly  dualistic. 

Such  dualism  subverts  realh'  the  old  doctrine  of  the  Church,  as 
it  entered  into  the  faith  of  the  first  ages,  and  continues  to  challenge 
the  faith  of  the  world  still  in  the  Apostles'  Creed.  It  converts  its 
whole  being  into  a  shadow,  which,  while  it  seems  to  promise  much, 
means  at  last  literally  nothing  for  the  process  of  man's  salvation. 
Neither  the  true  Church,  in  the  sense  of  Dr.  Hodge's  distinction, 
nor  the  Church  which  is  such  in  name  only  and  outward  show,  can 
be  said  to  add  anything  really  to  the  "mystery  of  godliness,"  as 
otherwise  ordered  and  made  sure  for  its  own  ends.  Neither  the 
visible  nor  the  invisible  Church  can  be  regarded  in  the  light  of  a  con- 
stitution, interA'ening  with  any  real  force  between  heaven  and  earth, 
and  serving  as  the  necessarj-  form  of  all  actual  correspondence  be- 
tween them  in  the  way  of  grace. 

But  the  invisible  Church  of  this  dualistic  theorj'  is  no  more 
suited  than  its  notion  of  the  visible  Church,  for  the  office  here  in 
question;  and  just  as  little  account  is  made  of  it  in  fact  under  any 
such  view.  It  adds  nothing  to  the  conception  of  Christianitj',  as 
apprehended  without  it.  It  is  in  truth  nothing  more  than  this 
conception  itself,  thus  prcAnousl}^  full  and  complete.  It  is  at  best 
the  comprehension  onl}'  of  the  "elect,"  whose  salvation  is  a  fact 
already  secured  under  quite  another  aspect  and  view,  and  who  thus 
bring  with  them  in  their  character  of  saints  all  that  is  made  to  be- 
long to  them  in  its  communion. 

What  has  been  now  said  ma^^  serve  sufficiently  to  show  the  gen- 
eral nature  of  the  Calvinistic  hypothesis,  on  which  Dr.  Hodge 
relies  so  confidently^  for  the  right  interpretation  of  the  Epistle  to 
the  Ephesians.  It  is  sufficient  also  to  show,  we  think,  how  unequal 
his  Commentary  must  necessarily  be  to  the  task  of  meeting  and 
solving  what  we  have  already  seen  to  be  the  fundamental  exegetical 
problem  brought  to  view  in  the  structure  of  the  Epistle  itself. 
The  hypothesis  does  not  answer  at  all  to  the  terms  and  conditions 
of  this  problem,  as  it  has  been  already  stated  and  described.  It 
does  not  even  seek  to  reconcile  and  unite  the  two  apparently  dis- 
crepant views  of   Christianity  that  run  through  the  Epistle.     It 


I 


ClIAP.  XLIV]  HODGE   ON    THE    EPHESIANS  5T5 

throws  itself  upon  one  of  those  views  in  :i  great  measure  exclu- 
sively of  the  other;  and  in  this  wu}-  violently  ])reaks  the  knot  which 
it  has  no  power  to  unloose. 

It  does  well  in  asserting  over  against  Arniinianisni  the  claims  of 
grace  as  forming  in  the  work  of  redemption  an  order  of  life  and 
l)ower,  distinct  from  nature  and  above  it;  but  doing  this  in  such  a 
w^a}'  as  practically  to  sunder  the  two  spheres  altogether,  it  falls  into 
a  like  one-sidedness  in  the  opposite  direction,  making  so  much  of 
God's  agency  as  to  turn  the  activit}'  of  man  in  fact  into  mere  dumb 
shoAv.  With  such  a  character,  how  can  it  possibly  do  justice  to 
the  text  of  the  New  Testament,  or  serve  as  a  mirror  to  reflect  the 
mind  of  St.  Paul?  Looking  at  the  theorj^  then  as  it  is  in  itself, 
and  comparing  it  with  the  plain  dennands  of  the  case,  we  have  the 
most  perfect  right  to  anticipate  not  any  more  particular  investiga- 
tion, and  to  say  beforehand  that  the  Commentary  before  us  cannot 
l)Ossibly  give  us  the  true  scope  and  sense  of  the  Epistle  it  pretends 
to  expound.  The  difliculty  is  not  with  the  learning  or  alnlity  of 
its  distinguished  author.  These  ma}'  be  all  that  could  be  expected 
or  desired.  It  lies  in  the  preconceived  scheme  of  thought  which 
he  feels  himself  bound  to  apply  to  the  text,  as  the  necessary  norm 
of  its  meaning;  but  which  is  found  to  be  in  truth  so  foreign  from 
the  genius  of  the  text  itself,  that  no  amount  of  learning  can  ever 
be  able  to  interpret  this  faithfully  and  fairly  by  its  means. 

If  this  general  a  jjriori  judgment  in  regard  to  the  work  at  large 
he  at  all  correct,  we  may  take  it  for  granted  that  it  cannot  fail  to 
be  corroborated  and  confirmed  by  an  examination  of  it  in  its  details. 
It  is  only  what  might  be  anticipated,  therefore,  when  we  look  into 
it.  and  find  its  actual  course  of  exposition  attended  with  embarrass- 
ment and  contradiction  from  the  very  start. 

Take  first  of  all  the  topic  of  election,  which  is  found  to  be  of 
such  cardinal  significance  for  the  interpretation  of  the  whole  Epis- 
tle. With  the  merits  of  the  doctrine  itself  in  its  Calvinistic  form, 
as  held  b}'  Dr.  Hodge,  we  are  not  here  immediately  concerned. 
We  have  nothing  to  do  with  it  now'  as  a  question  of  metaphj'sics 
or  of  general  theology.  What  w^e  have  before  us  is  a  simple  point 
of  exegesis,  which  is  not  to  be  settled  by  any  such  speculation  one 
way  or  the  other.  We  ask  not,  wdiether  the  Calvinistic  dogma,  in 
itself  considered,  be  right  or  w-rong;  but  whether  it  be  really  and 
truly  wjiat  was  in  the  mind  of  St.  Paul  in  writing  this  Epistle  to 
the  Ephesians,  so  as  to  be  still  the  proper  key  to  the  actual  sense 
of  tlie  Ejiistle  itself.  That  is  now  the  only  question;  and  it  is  one 
which  we  find  ourselves  at  no  loss  whatever  to  answ'cr.     The  elec- 


5T6  IN   RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

tion  of  grace  on  "which  so  much  stress  is  laid  b}-  St.  Paul,  and  which 
is  made  by  him  here  and  elsewhere  to  underlie  the  whole  conception 
of  the  Christian  Church,  is  not  just  of  one  and  the  same  order 
with  the  "  absolute  decree  "  of  Calvinism,  regarded  as  determining 
the  destination  of  every  man  to  glory  or  perdition  from  all  eternit}'. 
To  settle  this  point,  it  is  not  necessary-  that  we  should  be  able  to 
explain  in  full  the  relation  of  the  two  forms  of  thinking  to  each 
other;  nor  even  that  we  should  have  it  in  our  power  to  comprehend 
precisely  the  actual  view  of  the  Apostle  at  all  points.  It  is  enough 
to  see,  that  the  suppositions  and  assumptions  which  are  involved 
in  the  one  hypothesis,  cannot  be  brought  b}^  any  strain  of  logic  to 
agree  with  what  is  plainly  postulated  and  required  by  the  other. 
No  rule  can  be  more  sure  or  easy  of  application  than  this ;  and  we 
need  no  other,  for  fully  deciding  the  question  here  in  hand. 

The  Calvinistic  theory  of  election,  presented  to  us  in  the  Com- 
mentary, connects  the  beginning  of  salvation  for  all  who  are  pre- 
destinated to  life  indissolubly  with  its  end.  There  is  no  room  to 
conceive  of  it  coming  short  of  its  ultimate  purpose  in  a  single  case. 
In  addressing  then  "the  saints  and  faithful  in  Christ  Jesus"  at 
Ephesus,  St.  Paul  is  to  be  regarded,  according  to  this  view,  as 
having  in  his  mind's  e3'e  directly  those  in  whom  this  absolute  decree 
had  already  begun  to  work  surelj'  towards  its  own  end,  and  no 
others.  None  besides  ma3^  be  thought  of  as  having  any  true  den- 
izenship  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  The  conception  of  that  kingdom 
is  held  to  be  necessarily  of  one  and  the  same  measure,  with  the 
actual  operation  of  this  absolute  decree  in  those  who  are  its  sub- 
jects. The}'  alone  have  part  really  in  the  "vocation"  of  the 
Gospel ;  and  for  them  this  heavenl}^  calling  is  itself  the  guaranty 
and  pledge,  most  surely,  of  everlasting  life. 

But  now  it  must  be  plain,  we  think,  for  any  unsophisticated 
reader,  looking  into  the  Epistle  itself,  that  its  theory  of  distinguish- 
ing grace,  whatever  it  may  be,  is  something  widely  different  from 
this,  something  which  refuses  to  coalesce  with  it  altogether,  and 
that  demands  absolutely  quite  another  construction  of  Christianity. 
The  "  elect,"  whom  St.  Paul  addresses,  whom  he  describes  as  "  called 
to  be  saints"  and  as  "sitting  in  heavenly  places  in  Christ  Jesus," 
and  who  form  for  him  the  idea  of  the  Church  which  is  "the  body 
of  Christ,  the  fullness  of  Him  that  filleth  all  in  all,"  are  not  at  once, 
to  his  mind,  such  as  have  been  predestinated  b}'  an  absolute  decree, 
from  all  eteimit}^,  to  everlasting  salvation,  and  are  now  regarded  as 
moving  forward  by  the  power  of  it,  with  unerring  certainty,  to  this 
pre-ordained  result. 


Chap.  XLIY]  iiodge  on  the  epiiestans  517 

We  have  plain  evidence  of  the  contrary  in  ever}-  part  of  the 
Epistle.  The  difficulties  it  offers  in  the  way  of  Dr.  Hodge's  scheme 
are  of  the  most  unyielding  kind  ;  and  they  come  up  in  ever}-  chapter, 
we  had  almost  said  in  every  paragrajjh  and  verse;  so  that  recourse 
must  be  had  everywhere  to  arbitrary  and  unnatural  suppositions, 
to  set  them  aside.  The  Epistle  goes  throughout  on  the  supposi- 
tion (common,  we  may  add,  to  the  entire  New  Testament),  that 
those  whom  it  addresses  as  Christians,  chosen  and  called  of  God  to 
the  high  and  glorious  privileges  of  the  Church,  might  still  fail  to 
"make  their  calling  and  election  sure."  This  single  fact,  too  plain 
to  be  disputed  b}'  any  honest  and  unprejudiced  mind,  is  sufficient 
to  settle  the  question  under  consideration.  It  shows  conclusively 
that  the  "elect,"  in  the  sense  of  St.  Paul,  are  not  the  same  with  the 
"elect"  in  Calvin's  sense;  and  that  the  New  Testament  conception 
of  the  Church  is  something  much  wider  than  an^-  theological  view, 
by  which  it  is  made  to  be  the  invisible  comprehension  simpl}-  of 
that  favored  class  whom  God  has  predestinated  to  everlasting  life, 
and  in  whose  case  thus  the  work  of  salvation  once  begun  has  no 
power  ever  to  fail. 

And  so  with  the  Epistles  of  the  New  Testament  in  general. 
The}'  look,  in  all  their  communications,  directly  and  exclusively 
to  the  Church  as  distinguished  from  the  world,  to  the  congregation 
of  those  who  are  denominated  saints,  and  described  as  the  chosen 
and  called  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus.  They  keep  themselves  contin- 
ually to  this  rule.  Thej*  have  to  do  only  with  "them  that  are 
within  "  (1  Cor.  5  :  12),  and  not  at  all  with  "them  that  are  without." 
With  them  that  are  within,  moreover,  they  have  to  do  plainly  in 
their  collective  character.  It  is  not  to  a  part  only  the}'  speak,  a 
still  narrower  circle  mentally  described  within  the  limits  of  this 
first  outward  distinction.  They  speak  to  bodies  of  men,  separa- 
ted from  the  rest  of  the  world  in  a  visible,  external  way ;  and  to 
these,  as  such,  they  refer  without  hesitation  the  lofty  titles,  the 
high  privileges,  the  heavenly  immunities  and  prerogatives  of  the 
Christian  Church.  Yet  of  those  who  are  regarded  as  partaking 
of  this  glorious  distinction,  in  such  general  view,  do  they  again 
go  on  with  Just  as  little  hesitation,  to  predicate,  at  the  same  time, 
directly  and  indirectly,  the  real  possibility  of  sin,  in  forms  involv- 
ing an  entire  forfeiture  of  every  advantage  they  had  come  to  pos- 
sess. However  it  may  l)e  with  the  Calvinistic  doctrine  of  election, 
it  is  certain  that  the  election  and  vocation  here  brought  into  view 
carry  with  them  no  sort  of  guaranty  whatever  for  the  final  salva- 
tion of  tiieir  subjects. 


578  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

We  repeat  then  what  we  have  said  before.  The  doctrine  of  elec- 
tion in  the  common  sense  of  the  New  Testament,  and  as  we  have 
it  proclaimed  alike  by  St.  Peter  and  St.  Panl,  is  not  the  doctrine  of 
election  which  is  set  before  ns  in  the  theolog}'  of  John  Calvin.  This 
is  our  thesis;  and  for  the  present  (let  it  be  well  kept  in  mind), 
nothing  more  than  this.  Our  business  now,  as  has  been  already' 
said,  is  not  with  the  merits  of  the  Calvinistic  dogma  absolutel}^ 
considered.  The  argument  for  it  in  its  philosophico-theological 
form,  as  set  forth  for  example  b}^  Schleiermacher,  is  one  certainly 
which  it  can  never  be  eas}"  to  meet.  But  the  question  now  before 
us  is  not  one  of  philosophy  or  general  theology.  It  is  a  question 
pureh^  of  exegesis.  What  we  deny,  is  not  the  truth  of  metaphys- 
ical Calvinism  as  such,  but  its  identit}'  with  the  idea  of  election  as 
it  is  found  to  underlie  the  conception  of  the  Church  in  the  sense 
of  the  New  Testament.  The  two  forms  of  thought,  we  say  with 
the  greatest  confidence,  are  not  the  same.  We  hold  it,  therefore, 
for  a  fundamental  fault  in  this  Commentary  of  Dr.  Hodge,  that  the 
difference  between  them  is  altogether  overlooked,  that  St.  Paul's 
doctrine  of  the  "  election  of  grace  "  is  arbitrarily  taken  to  be  pre- 
cisel}^  of  one  measure  with  the  doctrine  of  predestination  to  eternal 
life  as  held  by  Calvin,  and  that  this  last  is  then  used  as  a  key 
throughout,  instead  of  the  first,  to  open  and  expound  the  deep 
meaning  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians. 

The  consequences  of  so  radical  a  mistake  cannot  fail,  of  course, 
to  extend  A'ery  far.  They  must  afl"ect  the  complexion  of  the  entire 
Commentary,  and  may  be  expected  seriously  to  vitiate  the  value  of 
its  expositions  at  every  point.  Our  limits,  however,  will  not  allow 
us  to  pursue  the  subject  anj-  farther  at  the  present  time.  We  hope 
to  take  it  up  again  hereafter,  in  another  article.  This  will  give  us 
an  opportunity  of  examining  more  fully  the  true  impoi't  and  bearing 
of  St.  Paul's  idea  of  election ;  as  it  will  make  it  necessary  for  us  also 
to  go  somewhat  particularly  into  the  consideration  of  his  doctrine 
of  the  Church;  the  ])roper  parallel  of  that  other  idea,  b}^  the  help 
of  which  alone  it  is  possible  to  satisfy  the  opposing  conditions  of 
the  great  exegetical  problem  which  runs,  as  we  have  already  seen, 
through  all  his  Epistles,  so  as  to  bring  into  their  exposition  the  feel- 
ing of  order,  harmony  and  light.  The  true  doctrine  of  the  Church 
here  is  for  the  Calvinistic  and  Arminian  theories,  what  the  true 
doctrine  of  Christ's  person  was  in  the  first  centuries  for  the  dreams 
of  the  Gnostic  on  the  one  side  and  the  dreams  of  the  Ebionite  on 
the  other,  the  glorious  everlasting  synthesis  under  a  real  form  of 
what  they  have  no  power  to  unite  except  in  the  wa}'  of  shadow. 


Chap.  XLIV]  hodge  on  the  ephesians  o70 

Those  whom  St,  Paul  .iddresses  collectively  us  saints,  chosen  of 
God  to  be  hoh',  partakers  of  the  heavenly  calling  and  heirs  of  eternal 
salvation,  are  not  regarded  by  him  certainly-  as  the  jjossessors  of  a 
merel}'  nominal  and  imaginary  distinction,  over  against  the  world 
at  large  with  which  their  state  is  thus  broadly  contrasted  and  com- 
pared. It  is  not  in  the  way  of  compliment  only  or  conventional 
form,  most  clearl}-,  that  he  can  be  sujjposed  to  speak  of  it  in  such 
loft}^  terms.  Nothing  can  be  more  plain,  than  that  for  his  mind 
the  difference  between  their  condition  and  that  of  the  world  nronnd 
them  was  most  substantial  and  real,  and  of  a  kind  to  warrant  in 
full  all  the  strength  of  language  he  was  accustomed  to  use  in  regard 
to  it.  Ilis  sense  of  difficulty,  in  setting  forth  the  significance  of 
the  distinction,  is  not  that  his  terms  are  too  high  for  his  sul)ject, 
but  onh"  that  the}'  come  not  up  to  the  proper  greatness  of  it,  as  he 
finds  it  overwhelming  his  own  thoughts.  It  is  no  simply  outward 
separation  alone,  no  merely  nominal  peculiarity  of  position,  which 
in  the  view  of  the  Apostle  goes  to  make  up  the  true  idea  of  the 
Christian  profession,  the  state  into  which  men  are  brought  by  en- 
tering the  hallowed  precincts  of  the  Church.  This  state,  as  he 
looks  upon  it,  sets  all  who  are  in  it,  whether  the  privilege  be  prop- 
erly improved  or  not,  in  a  relation  to  God  w^hich  cannot  be  said 
to  exist  at  all  for  others. 

The  possibility  of  salvation  here  is  made  to  assume  a  far  higher 
form,  than  all  it  is  ever  found  to  be  in  the  world  at  large.  It  is  no 
longer  the  mere  capability  of  being  saved,  but  in  a  most  material 
sense  salvation  alreadv  begun.  The  difference  of  relation  to  the 
powers  of  redemption  is  not  merely  in  degree,  but  actually  and 
truly  in  kind.  A  new  order  of  life  has  been  entered,  the  order  of 
grace  as  distinguished  from  the  order  of  mere  nature.  In  this  re- 
si^ect,  the  state  includes  a  strictly  supernatural  character.  Those 
who  are  in  it  stand,  by  virtue  of  their  position,  in  correspondence 
with  the  powers  of  a  higher  world,  the  mysterious  forces  of  the  new 
creation  in  Christ  Jesus,  in  a  way  not  possible  to  men  in  any  other 
condition.  They  are  brought  within  the  range  and  sweep  of  that 
victorious  dispensation,  which  having  run  its  course  first  in  the  per- 
son of  the  Saviour  himself,  is  now  revealing  its  presence  in  the 
world,  through  the  Spirit,  for  the  final  and  complete  salvation  of 
his  people.  To  this  salvation  the.y  have  already  a  full  title.  It  is 
theirs  by  covenant  and  promise,  and  they  have  full  opportunity  to 
come  at  last  into  its  possession. 

Such  clearly  is  the  conception  of  the  Ciiristiau  state,  in  its  dis- 
tinction from  the  general  condition  of  the  world,  as  it  dwells  in  the 


580  IN   RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

mind  of  St.  Paul.  And  this  conception  forms  for  him  precisely 
the  idea  of  the  Church;  the  sense  of  which  enters  so  largely  into 
all  his  Epistles,  but  most  of  all  we  may  say  into  this  Epistle  to 
the  Ephesians  ;  underlying  as  it  does  here  the  universal  course  of 
his  thought,  and  forming  in  truth  the  key  note  around  which  it 
seems  to  proceed  throughout,  as  a  grand  and  magnificent  anthem, 
belonging  not  so  much  to  earth  as  to  the  skies. 

Answering  to  the  view  now  described,  the  Church  is  regarded 
by  St.  Paul  as  a  real  constitution,  of  supernatural  origin  and  force, 
existing  in  the  world  under  an  outward  historical  form,  and  com- 
prehending in  it  the  opportunity  and  possibility  of  salvation  as 
the}'  are  to  be  found  nowhere  else.  It  finds  its  s^-mbol  or  type  in 
the  Ark,  which  served  in  the  daj^s  of  Noah  to  save  those  who 
sought  refuge  in  it  from  the  waters  of  the  deluge.  So  far  as  it  lay 
in  the  power  of  the  unbelieving  and  disobedient  generally',  at  that 
time,  to  give  heed  to  the  Divine  warning  and  betake  themselves  to 
the  hope  which  was  set  before  them  in  this  form,  it  might  be  said 
that  there  was  a  possibility  for  them  to  be  saved.  But  the  possi- 
bility of  salvation  for  those  who  had  alreadj^  entered  the  Ark,  as 
we  can  see  at  once,  was  of  a  ver^^  different  kind.  It  was  not  such 
indeed,  in  its  own  nature,  as  to  make  it  absolutely  necessary  for 
them  to  be  saved.  There  was  no  room,  it  is  true,  for  any  question 
in  regard  to  the  full  sufficiency  of  the  Ark  for  this  purpose.  But 
it  was  possible  for  those  who  were  in  it,  to  frustrate  for  themselves 
its  merciful  purpose  and  design.  They  might  forsake  it  through 
unbelief;  or  staying  in  it,  they  might  neglect  the  needful  conditions 
of  life,  so  as  to  come  short  finally  of  the  proper  end  of  their  pro- 
bation. 

Nothwithstanding  all  this,  however,  their  state  was  already  one 
of  glorious  miraculous  privilege,  as  compared  with  the  condition 
of  the  world  at  large.  It  placed  them  in  a  new  order  of  existence, 
and  brought  them  into  living  actual  communication  with  the  scheme 
of  grace  which  God  had  been  pleased  to  provide  for  the  deliverance 
of  His  people.  It  was  in  such  view  this  deliverance  itself,  already 
in  sure  progress  towards  its  appointed  end.  In  these  circum- 
stances, those  who  were  in  the  Ark  might  be  spoken  of  easily 
enough  as  possessing  from  the  first  the  full  and  entire  salvation 
Avhich  was  really  comprehended  in  its  constitution  for  their  benefit; 
although  this  was  not  yet  reached,  and  might  possibly'  never  be 
reached  by  all  of  them  in  fact ;  since  that  must  depend,  in  the  na- 
ture of  the  case,  on  their  own  persevering  use  of  the  means  they 
enjo^^ed  for  this  purpose.     Still  all  might  be  said  to  be  theirs,  as 


Chap.  XLIY]  hodge  on  the  ephesians  581 

soon  as  they  passed  from  the  sphere  of  nature  here  into  the  sphere 
of  grace.  The}'  were  rescued  from  the  general  condemnation  of 
the  world.  The}'  were  made  secure  from  its  impending  destruction. 
They  were  prepared  to  outride  the  flood.  They  might  be  said  even 
to  have  a  present  footing  on  the  shores  of  the  new  earth,  which 
they  were  called  to  seek  through  its  waters. 

80  apprehended,  the  Church  is  found  to  be,  in  a  most  important 
sense,  the  necessary  medium  of  salvation  for  men.  How  should  it 
be  otherwise,  if  it  be  indeed  the  constitution  of  grace  itself,  the  only 
form  in  which  the  powers  of  the  new  creation  are  at  work  in  the 
world  ;  while  all  beyond  resolves  itself  into  that  mere  life  of  nature, 
from  the  weakness  and  curse  of  which  it  is  the  object  of  the  Gospel 
to  set  men  free?  To  say  that  no  such  intervention  is  needed,  to 
make  room  for  the  course  of  the  Christian  salvation,  is  virtually  to 
deny  and  reject  the  truth  of  all  that  has  now  been  said  concerning 
the  difference  between  the  order  of  nature  and  the  order  of  grace, 
and  to  hold  that  men  may  be  saved  absolutely  in  the  order  of  nature 
itself  without  any  order  of  grace  at  all ;  which  is  such  an  error 
again,  as  necessarily  involves  at  last,  when  carried  out  to  its 
legitimate  end,  the  denial  and  rejection  of  the  whole  mystery 
of  the  Incarnation.  If  the  grace  by  which  salvation  is  made 
possible  be  in  the  world  only  as  a  supernatural  system,  flowing 
from  Christ,  and  if  this  system  be  itself  the  Church,  related  to 
Ilim  as  the  body  to  the  head,  it  follows  forthwith  that  there  can 
be  no  ordinary  salvation  out  of  the  Church;  that  it  is  the  first 
duty  of  all  to  seek  refuge  in  its  bosom  from  the  wrath  to  come; 
and  that  those  who  do  so  are  at  once  made  to  have  part  in  such 
full  power  and  possibility  of  being  saved  as  may  be  said  to  be  in 
fact  sah'ation  already  begun.  So  much,  accordingly,  is  involved 
everywhere  for  St.  Paul,  in  his  established  idea  of  the  Church. 
He  has  no  difliculty  whatever  in  assuming  continually,  that  it  sus- 
tains to  the  world  a  relation  corresponding  in  full  with  all  that  the 
Ark  was,  in  the  days  of  Noah,  to  the  men  of  his  generation. 

Apprehended  as  it  is  by  St.  Paul  again,  the  Church  has  neces- 
sarily an  objective  organic  life.  It  is  in  this  respect  a  system  or 
constitution  parallel  in  full  with  the  constitution  of  the  world, 
under  its  simply  natural  form.  It  is  made  up  of  manifold  forces 
and  i)owers,  working  with  a  vast  array  of  outward  historical  re- 
sults, through  successive  ages,  which  are  yet  all  bound  together 
as  one  general  movement,  and  capable  of  being  referred  tO  a  com- 
mon princii^le  or  source.  That  principle  is  Christ.  The  Church 
starts  from  Him,  and  stands  in  Him  always,  as  its  perennial  undy- 


582  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

ing  root.  Whatever  of  grace,  power,  opportunity  and  possibility, 
there  may  be  in  it,  as  distinguished  from  the  universal  range 
of  man's  life  on  the  outside  of  it,  all  proceeds  from  the  new  order 
of  existence  which  was  introduced  into  the  world  bj^  His  Incar- 
nation, and  in  virtue  of  which  He  now  reigns  at  the  right  hand 
of  God.  It  is  a  sphere  of  being,  which  refers  itself  back  organically 
to  the  principle  of  the  new  creation  in  such  view,  even  as  the  sphere 
of  nature,  with  all  its  powers  and  possibilities,  refers  itself  back  or- 
ganically also  to  the  principle  of  the  old  creation,  advanced  to  its 
highest  form  in  the  "living  soul  "  of  Adam. 

Such  in  general  is  St.  Paul's  conception  of  the  Church.  It  unites 
in  itself  at  once  the  two  sides  of  the  peculiar  and  truly  enigmatical 
hypothesis,  on  which  we  have  found  all  his  Epistles  to  be  con- 
structed ;  doing  full  justice  to  both,  and  causing  their  seeming  con- 
tradictoriness  to  disappear ;  for  which  very  reason  also  it  offers  to 
us  the  only  satisfactory  solution  of  their  sense,  the  only  key  by 
which  it  is  possible  to  expound  them  in  an}'  full  and  harmonious 
wa>'. 

It  is  easy  to  see,  that  no  like  idea  of  the  Church  is  at  all  attain- 
able for  either  of  the  onesided  tendencies,  which  allow  themselves, 
as  we  have  seen  before,  to  turn  the  true  synthesis  of  the  Christian 
mystery  into  a  false  antithesis,  by  separating  its  factors,  and  then 
exalting  one  at  the  sore  cost  and  saci'iflce  of  the  other.  It  is  very 
certain,  on  the  contrary,  that  these  schemes  must  lead  necessaril}^, 
each  in  its  own  way,  to  a  different  notion  of  the  Church  altogether; 
and  it  is  very  certain,  moreover,  beforehand,  that  no  such  different 
notion  can  ever  be  made  to  square  exegetically  with  the  true  mean- 
ing of  St.  Paul's  Epistles,  but  must  serve  rather  to  involve  the  ex- 
position of  them  in  endless  and  hopeless  embarrassment. 

Neither  the  Arminian  nor  the  Calvinistic  extremes  can  make 
true  earnest  with  the  proper  objective  and  historical  character  of 
the  Church,  regarded  as  a  constitution  of  grace  in  distinction  from 
the  constitution  of  nature.  Neither  of  them  can  do  justice  to  the 
idea  of  its  organic  nature,  the  unity  and  continuity  of  its  being, 
considered  as  the  power  of  a  new  creation  in  Christ  Jesus.  With 
neither  of  them  can  it  ever  come  to  a  true  acknowledgment  of  the 
position  which  properly  belongs  to  it  in  the  supernatural  economy 
of  salvation,  as  a  part  of  the  "mystery  of  godliness,"  itself  a  m3's- 
tery,  and  in  such  view  fairly  and  of  right  an  object  of  faith,  as  it  is 
made  to  be  in  the  Apostles'  Creed.  For  neither  of  them  is  the 
Church,  in  any  sense,  what  the  Ark  was  in  the  time  of  Noah,  the 
bearer  actually  of  the  redemption  which  it  offers  to  those  who  are 


Chap.  XLIV]  hodoe  on  the  ephesians  583 

invited  into  its  l)Osom,  tlie  veiy  organ  and  medium  of  grace,  tlie 
home  of  the  Spirit,  the  sphere  of  celestial  powers,  through  whose 
intervention  alone  the  blessings  of  the  Gospel  are  made  to  be  avail- 
able and  possible  truly  for  any  of  the  children  of  men.  Hoth 
schemes  are  careful  in  fact  to  denounce  the  idea  of  all  such  inter- 
position and  mediation  in  any  form,  as  interfering  with  Avhat  they 
take  to  be  the  proper  freeness  and  directness  of  Divine  grace,  and 
as  tending  in  their  apprehension  to  rob  religion  of  that  character 
of  inwardness  and  spirituality,  which  forms  its  highest  distinction, 
and  which  it  is  held  to  admit  onl}^  in  the  form  of  an  immediate 
personal  transaction  between  ever3'  man  and  his  Maker. 

Looking  at  the  Abrahamic  constitution  in  its  true  light,  we  have 
before  us  here,  in  fact,  two  altogether  different  forms  of  election. 
We  may  distinguish  thorn  as  mechanical  and  organic.  The  scheme 
set  before  us  l)y  Dr.  Hodge  is  strictly  of  the  first  character;  the 
reigning  Biblical  scheme  is  altogether  of  the  last.  The  difference 
between  the  two  conce})tions  is  so  important,  that  we  ma}-  well  be 
at  some  pains  to  have  it  clearly  in  mind. 

If  a  man  should  suppose  a  law  in  nature  to  be  of  one  measure 
exactly  with  its  phenomenal  results,  the  numerical  comprehension 
of  these  and  nothing  more,  a  mere  term  to  express  and  set  forth 
the  general  truth  of  their  existence  as  so  many  separate  facts,  it 
would  be  an  example  of  a  mechanical  notion  coming  short  entirely 
of  the  real  nature  of  its  object.  The  case  calls  for  an  organic  con- 
ception. Such  a  law  is  not  the  product  merely  of  its  own  results 
(a  contradiction  in  terms),  nor  j-et  an  instrument  simply  for  bring- 
ing them  to  pass;  but  the  very  power  itself  of  their  existence. 

To  bring  the  matter  nearer  to  the  case  in  hand,  take  now  the 
common  relation  of  a  tree  to  its  branches,  blossoms  and  fruit.  If 
these  should  be  supposed  to  exist  in  any  certain  quantity  and  form 
aside  from  the  tree  itself,  and  there  to  be  joined  to  it  in  an  outward 
way,  causing  it  to  appear  as  the  instrumental  bond  and  bearer  of 
their  collective  life,  the  conception  would  be  again  purely  mechan- 
ical;  whereas  the  actually  existing  relation  itself,  as  all  may  easily 
see,  is  organic;  the  tree  being  in  fact  the  true  ground  and  founda- 
tion of  all  the  life  that  is  comprehended  in  its  branches,  blossoms, 
and  fruit;  to  such  extent,  that  they  cannot  exist  at  all,  nor  be  so 
much  as  conceived  even  to  exist,  except  tlirough  its  presence  and 
power. 

Make  such  a  case,  in  the  next  place,  the  object  of  God's  decree; 
which  must  be  considered  in  truth  to  extend  to  all  His  works;  and 
we  may  readily  see  how  there  is  room  here  again  for  the  same  differ- 


5.84  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

enee  of  conception,  accordingly  as  the  decree  ma^'  be  talcen  to  agree 
witli  one  or  the  other  of  these  views.  What  the  tree  is  really,  it 
must  be  considered  in  an}'  right  view  to  be  ideall}-  also  in  God's 
eternal  purpose  and  plan.  The  order  of  its  being,  in  both  modes, 
must  be  intrinsically  the  same.  The  decree  looks  to  the  branches, 
blossoms,  and  fruit,  only  through  the  tree,  which  forms  the  whole 
ground  of  their  being  and  life.  They  are  viewed  as  being  in  fact  a 
single  constitution.  To  will  their  existence,  is  to  will,  not  second- 
arily but  primaril}^,  the  existence  of  the  tree  itself.  In  such  sense 
only,  may  they  be  said  to  be  chosen  in  it  to  what  is  at  last  their 
actual  destination.  The  election,  by  which  this  is  secured,  is 
organic,  Dr,  Hodge,  however,  to  be  consistent  with  his  own  theo- 
logical theory,  would  need  to  reverse  the  order  of  the  conception 
altogether.  The  branches,  the  blossoms,  the  fruit,  are  to  be  con- 
sidered as  all  predetermined  to  their  existence  in  time,  in  the  first 
place,  just  so  man}',  neither  more  nor  less;  and  then,  next  in  order, 
and  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  this  to  pass,  must  be  supposed  to 
follow  the  preordination  of  the  tree,  fitted  and  contrived  to  serve 
as  an  instrumental  medium  for  reaching  the  end  in  view.  This  is 
the  mechanical  notion  of  election.  The  two  schemes,  in  this  case, 
may  be  distinguished  without  any  great  difficulty;  and  it  is  by  no 
means  hard  to  say,  which  of  them  is  entitled  to  the  most  respect. 

All  proceeds  from  God's  eternal  purpose  or  decree;  and  we  may 
say  of  men  universally,  that  they  have  been  chosen  in  Adam  before 
the  foundation  of  the  world,  to  become  what  they  are  actually  after- 
wards in  time.  It  makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world,  however, 
in  what  sense  this  election  may  be  taken.  Conceive  of  it  under  the 
mechanical  character  which  Dr,  Hodge  assigns  to.  the  corresponding 
election  of  grace,  and  it  must  be  held  to  mean,  that  the  decree  starts 
with  the  purpose  of  calling  into  actual  existence,  under  a  human 
form,  a  distinctl}^  settled  number  of  possible  beings,  irrespectively 
altogether  of  any  intervening  condition,  and  then  falls  upon  the 
expedient  or  device  of  making  the  whole  process  centre  in  Adam, 
as  it  does  now  in  fact;  a  view  that  is  not  likely  to  be  entertained 
seriously  here,  we  think,  even  by  Dr,  Hodge  himself.  The  organic 
conception  alone  falls  in  rationally  with  the  demands  of  the  case. 
So  apprehended,  the  decree  coincides  with  what  we  are  irresistibly 
constrained  to  regard  as  the  world's  actual  constitution.  The  re- 
lation of  Adam  to  men  generally  is  seen  to  be  an  organic  law; 
through  the  presence  and  power  of  which  alone  they  come  to  be 
what  they  are;  and  aside  from  which,  therefore,  there  is  no  room 
really  to  conceive  of  their  existence  at  all.     To  be  the  object  of 


Chap.  XLIV]  iiodge  ox  the  ephesians  585 

God's  purpose  then  in  any  way  whatever,  they  must  be  regarded 
I)}'  it  from  eternit}^  in  this  form  and  no  other.  The  Divine  decree 
terminates  on  the  whole  race  immediately  and  at  once,  as  a  consti- 
tution derived  from  Adam,  and  holding  in  him  continuall3-  as  its 
natural  root. 

In  the  first  place,  this  metaphysical  view  of  foreordination,  as  it 
may  be  supposed  to  lie  back  of  all  organization,  deciding  and  fixing 
in  every  case  its  precise  contents  and  results,  is  not  the  view  of  St, . 
Paul  presented  to  us  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians.  We  do  not 
say  that  it  is  one  which  he  was  not  prepared  to  understand  or  ac- 
knowledge, in  its  proper  place.*  That  is  another  question.  What 
we  mean  is,  that  it  was  not  in  his  mind  at  all,  not  present  to  his  _ 
thoughts  in  an^-  way,  in  writing  this  Epistle;  and  that  it  cannot  be 
used,  therefore,  as  a  true  key  to  its  sense. 

In  the  next  place,  the  conception  in  question  does  not  offer  itself 
as  one  that  is  peculiar  in  anj-  way  to  the  sphere  of  religion.  It 
looks  to  the  universal  constitution  of  the  world.  So  far  as  it  goes, 
the  order  of  grace  is  viewed  as  being  the  real  counterpart  and  par- 
allel of  the  order  of  nature.  That  is  just  what  it  is  made  to  be  in 
the  thinking  of  St.  Paul.  The  one  is  to  him,  as  realh'  as  the  other, 
an  objective  constitution,  having  in  itself  its  own  laws  and  powers, 
and  Avorking  organicalh'  for  the  accomplishment  of  its  own  ends. 
AVith  what  ma}-  be  supposed  to  lie  behind  all  this  in  either  case, . 
the  metaphysical  conception  of  the  Divine  decree,  he  does  not  allow 
his  mind  to  concern  itself  in  any  way  whatever. 

In  the  last  place,  it  makes  a  vast  difference,  whether  this  meta- 
physical conception  be  allowed  to  form  directly  one  notion  of  elec- 
tion as  in  the  mechanical  scheme,  or  be  simply  thrown  as  an  impen- 
etrable myster}^  behind  it,  according  to  the  organic  view.  In  the 
first  case,  it  becomes  absolutel}'  unconditional,  having  regard  to  no 
conceivable  relations  or  qualities  whatever;  as  being  itself  neces- 
sarily the  ground  and  reason  of  all  such  distinction ;  in  which  view, 
we  can  think  of  nothing  more  perfectly  abstract.  In  the  other 
case,  it  is  at  once  conditional ;  eyeing  all  existences  from  eternit}- 
as  the}'  actually  are  in  time;  seeing  the  whole  always  in  its  parts, 
and  the  parts  in  their  whole,  as  well  as  in  the  relations  the}'  bear: 
mutually  among  themselves;  determining  and  fixing  things  con- 
cretely; the  only  way  that  can  be  said  to  answer  truly  at  last  to 
tlicii-  being;  the  only  wav,  indeed,  in  which  the}'  can  ever  be  really 
and  truly  the  object  of  either  purpose  or  thought  at  all. 

Such  is  St.  Paul's  idea  of  election,  we  repeat,  as  applied  to  the 
economy  of  the  Christian   Cluircli.     It  is  not  mechanical,  but  or- 
37  ' 


586  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DiV.  X 

ganic;  not  abstract,  but  concrete.  It  has  to  do  with  men,  not  in 
the  general  view  simply"  of  their  common  natural  humanit}',  but 
under  the  conception  of  their  being  Christians,  such  as  have  come 
to  stand,  through  the  obedience  of  faith,  in  the  bosom  of  the  new 
order  of  life  which  is  revealed  in  the  Church;  without  any  reference 
immediately  to  the  way  in  which  this  may  be  supposed  to  haA'e 
I  come  to  pass.  What  the  Apostle  has  immediately  in  his  eye,  is  not 
so  much  the  election  of  menhit^o  Christ,  as  their  election  in  Hirnj^ 
the  heavenl}'  prerogatives,  the  glorious  privileges,  possibilities,  op- 
portunities and  powers,  that  are  comprehended  in  the  new  creation 
of  which  He  is  the  Alpha  and  Omega,  and  to  which  the}"  are  chosen 
in  fact  by  being  embraced  in  its  organic  sphere.  Just  as,  by  being 
in  the  vine,  its  branches  may  be  said  to  be  elected  and  chosen  in  it 
to  all  the  fruitfulness,  which  is  made  possible  for  them  in  this  way, 
and  in  this  way  alone. 

The  grand  object  of  the  whole  purpose  is  primarily  and  funda- 
mentall}'  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  himself.  All  else  is  seen  as  having 
place  only  in  Him  and  by  Him.  What  fills  the  soul  of  the  Apostle 
with  adoring  admiration,  is  the  thought  of  the  glorious  constitution 
of  grace  in  His  person,  considered  as  present  to  the  mind  of.  God 
from  all  eternity,  and  as  forming  in  truth  the  ultimate  scope  of  all 
His  counsels  and  dispensations  towards  the  human  race,  though  in 
the  unsearchable  depths  of  His  wisdom  it  was  not  allowed  for  ages 
to  come  full}'  into  view.  Through  all  the  graces  of  nature,  made 
subject  to  vanity  by  reason  of  sin,  its  gloomy  forebodings,  and  wild 
utterances  of  despair;  through  the  long  night  of  expectation  that 
went  before  the  Flood  and  followed  after  it ;  through  the  clouds  and 
darkness,  which  shrouded  the  mysterious  presence  of  Jehovah  dur- 
ing the  whole  period  of  the  Old  Testament;  this  was  the  end,  to- 
wards whose  revelation,  in  the  fulness  of  time,  the  universal  plan  of 
the  world  had  been  directed  from  the  beginning,  and  in  the  advent 
of  which  alone  was  to  be  reached  finally  the  full  resolution  of  its  in- 
most sense.  All  looked  in  this  way  to  the  new  constitution  which 
was  to  be  ushered  into  the  world  b}-  the  glorious  fact  of  the  Incarna- 
tion, carrying  with  it  redemption  and  victory  over  the  powers  of  sin 
and  hell,  for  all  who  should  come  into  its  bosom,  and  use  faithfully 
its  grace.  And  now  God's  eternal  purpose  was  fulfilled.  The  m^'S- 
tery  of  ages  was  no  longer  hid,  but  open.  Christ  had  come  in  the 
flesh;  and  b}' His  death  and  resurrection  room  was  made  for  the 
Church,  which  now  stood  among  men,  accordinglj',  and  was  destined 
to  do  so  to  the  end  of  time,  as  the  comprehension  of  the  unutterable 
blessings  which  had  been  procured  for  the  world  by  His  mediation. 


Chap.  XLIY]  iiodge  on  the  ephesians  587 

The  two  schemes  before  us,  as  they  involve  totally  different  con- 
ceptions of  the  Church,  lead  also  to  materially  different  notions  of 
faitli.  With  St.  Paul,  the  Church,  regarded  as  a  real  constitution 
of  grace  in  the  world,  through  which  only  the  resources  of  Christ's 
resurrection  life  are  made  available  for  the  purposes  of  man's  "de- 
liverance from  this  present  evil  world"  (Gal.  1  :  4),  is  of  course  at 
once  an  object  for  faith,  as  really  as  Christ's  resurrection  itself  It 
is  a  constituent  part  of  Christianity,  answering  truh*  to  the  posi- 
tion which  is  assigned  to  it  under  such  view  in  the  primitive 
Creeds.  It  is  no  abstraction,  no  mere  generalization,  resolving  it- 
self at  last  into  the  mental  notion  by  which  it  is  apprehended ;  but 
in  some  form  the  objective  presence  of  a  true  concrete  fact,  whose 
authority  men  are  required  to  own  in  an  outward  practical  Avay,  as 
well  as  with  the  inward  homage  of  the  spirit.  This  practical  ac- 
knowledgment forms  thus  an  important  part  of  the  true  idea  of  the 
Christian  faith;  na}',  we  ma}'  say,  it  is  the  very  form  in  which  all 
such  faith  necessai-ily  begins.  For  if  there  be  an^^  constitution  of 
this  sort  really  in  the  world,  the  first  dut}^  of  all  men  must  be 
plainly  to  acknowledge  its  supernatural  claitns,  and  to  place  them- 
selves within  its  bosom,  in  order  that  they  maj'  be  saved  ;  and  it 
can  never  be  an3'thing  better  than  folly  for  them  to  talk  of  believ- 
ing and  obej'ing  the  Gospel  at  other  points,  while  the}'  refuse  to 
comply  herewith  that  requirement,  which  in  the  ver}' nature  of  the 
case  must  be  taken  to  underlie  and  condition  all  requirements  be- 
sides, as  offering  the  only  way  in  which  it  is  possible  for  them  to 
be  fulfilled  ;  just  as  it  would  have  been  the  foil}-  of  madness  itself, 
for  any  in  the  time  of  the  Flood  to  have  professed  faith  in  the  Ark, 
and  firm  trust  in  its  offers  of  grace,  whilst  the}^  continued  obsti- 
natel}'  to  stay  on  the  outside  of  its  walls.  In  this  light,  the  sense 
of  the  Apostolical  commission  becomes  plain. 

Many  thoughts,  well  worthy  of  attention,  offer  themselves  here 
for  consideration,  growing  out  of  the  general  subject  of  our  dis- 
cussion, and  bearing  on  the  doctrine  of  the  Ctiurch,  which,  how- 
ever, it  would  carry  us  altogether  too  far  to  notice  now  in  anj'  sort 
of  detail.  If  we  have  succeeded  at  all,  in  bringing  into  view  the 
form  in  which  this  great  doctrine  was  held  In*  St.  Paul,  and  the 
place  it  occupies  in  his  Avritings,  it  must  be  at  once  plain  that  it  is 
not  easy  to  lay  too  much  stress  upon  the  significance  which  prop- 
erly belongs  to  it  in  the  Christian  system.  It  is  found  to  take  its 
j)Osition  at  once  very  near  the  centre,  and  not  simply  in  the  out- 
ward circumference,  of  the  general  scheme  of  salvation  ;  in  a  way 
which  answei'S  exactly  to  the  order  of  the  Creed,  and  serves  to  jus- 


588  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1853-1861  [DlV.  X 

tifj'  in  full  also  the  method  or  plan  of  its  construction.  The  very 
first  object  of  faith,  following  the  mission  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  must 
be  in  the  nature  of  the  case  (if  Christianity  be  no  mere  abstrac- 
tion, and  no  modification  simpl}-  of  .the  life  of  nature,  but  really 
and  truly  a  new  order  of  existence  in  the  sense  of  St.  Paul),  just 
what  it  is  made  to  be  in  the  Creed.  Not  the  Bible, but  the  Churchj__ 
not  an}'  particular  doctrine,  such  as  human  depravity,  for  instance, 
or  the  atonement,  but  the  fundamental  fact  of  Christianity  itself, 
on  the  ground  of  which  only  it  is  possible  to  hold  any  doctrine 
whatever  with  true  Christian  faith.  The  argument  for  the  Church, 
in  this  view,  is  very  broad.  It  lies  in  the  organic  structure  of 
Christianity  itself  Once  fairly  apprehended,  as  we  have  it  in  the 
Creed,  this  is  found  to  involve  the  article  as  a  necessary  part  of  its 
general  conception  or  scheme. 

We  may  saj^,  indeed,  that  the  article  of  the  Church  forms  the 
veiy  kej'stone  of  the  grand  and  glorious  arch,  with  which  the  mys- 
tery of  the  neAv  creation  is  represented  in  the  Creed  to  span  the 
chasm,  otherwise  impassable,  which  separates  between  earth  and 
heaven,  creating  thus  a  waj-  for  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord  to  pass 
over.  Onlv  to  suppose  it  gone,  is  to  turn  the  arch  itself  into  a 
Gnostic  vision.  The  argument  for  the  Church,  we  say,  is  compre- 
hended mainly  in  the  organic  constitution  of  Christianity  itself; 
and  this  is  the  form  precisely,  in  which  it  is  made  to  challenge  our 
faith,  and  our  obedient  regard  in  the  New  Testament.  The  doc- 
trine of  the  Church  is  in  the  New  Testament  just  as  the  other  ar- 
ticles of  the  Christian  faith  are  there ;  not  so  much  in  the  way  of 
single  naked  texts,  as  under  the  general  and  broader  view  of  neces- 
sary' comprehension  in  the  Christian  s^'stem  regarded  as  a  whole. 

That  is  a  most  lean  use  of  the  Scriptures  at  best,  which  affects 
to  keep  itself  in  any  case  to  isolated  texts,  and  overlooks  the 
vastly'  more  important  significance  of  what  lies  in  the  organic  rela- 
tions of  the  facts  themselves,  with  which  the  whole  revelation  is 
concerned.  What  are  the  few  testimonies  which  assert  in  an  im- 
mediate and  direct  way  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  or  the  doctrine 
of  the  Saviour's  Divinit}-,  in  comparison  with  the  vast  bod}'  of  evi- 
dence for  both,  which  is  involved  in  the  representations  and  as- 
sumptions of  the  Gospel  in  its  universal  view  ?  They  underlie  in 
fact  the  whole  thinking  of  the  New  Testament,  the  entire  universe 
of  its  gracious  revelations,  just  as  they  are  made  to  bear  up  the 
whole  structure  of  the  Creed. 

And  so  it  is  with  this  article  of  the  Church.  There  are  single 
and  separate  texts  which  may  be  quoted,  in  proof  of  its  being,  its 


Chap.  XLIV]  iiodge  on  the  epiiesians  589 

.ittiibutes,  and  its  claims  to  regiinl ;  more  tluiii  we  are  able  to  pro- 
duce in  such  form  for  the  doctrine  of  the  Hoi}'  Trinity;  more  than 
we  have  for  the  inspiration  and  divine  authority  of  the  Sacred 
Scriptures.  But  it  would  be  a  great  mistake  to  think  that  the 
Scriptural  argument  for  the  article  lies  wholl3',  or  mainly,  in  any 
such  passages.  The  true  force  of  this  argument  comes  into  view, 
only  when  we  are  brought  to  see  how  the  truth  of  the  article  is 
everywhere  assumed  and  taken  for  granted  in  the  New  Testament, 
as  something  necessarily  involved  in  the  very  constitution  of 
Christianity,  and  as  little  to  be  separated  from  the  conception  of 
the  m3'ster3'^  in  any  case,  as  form  from  substance,  or  bodj-  from  soul. 
Of  this  we  have  a  broad  and  striking  example  in  this  Epistle  of 
St.  Paul  to  the  Ephesians.  Strong  testimonies  occur  in  it  for  the 
doctrine  of  the  Church,  in  the  direct  textual  form ;  testimonies  that 
may  well  embarrass  the  Puritan  mind,  so  utterly  foreign  are  they 
from  its  whole  habit  of  thought.  Ikit  these  texts  are,  after  all, 
only  a  small  fraction  of  the  evidence,  which  is  reall}-  contained  in 
the  Epistle  for  the  doctrine  in  question.  That  is  found,  not  so 
much  in  what  the  Apostle  directly  asserts  on  the  subject,  as  in 
what  he  presumes  to  be  true  of  it,  from  the  salutation  with  which 
his  Epistle  begins  to  the  benediction  that  brings  it  to  a  close. 

The  idea  of  the  Church  runs  as  a  silent  hypothesis,  or  underl3'ing 
assumi)tion,  through  all  his  teachings  and  exhortations.  It  ma}' 
be  said  to  be  fairh-  woven  into  his  whole  scheme  of  religion.  All 
that  he  says  is  conditioned  and  ruled  continually  by  the  thought, 
that  those  whom  he  addresses  stood  not  in  the  general  world,  but 
in  the  bosom  of  the  Church;  and  that  their  position  in  this  view 
served  to  place  them  actually,  and  not  by  figure  of  speech  onl}-,  in 
correspondence  with  the  powers  of  a  higher  world,  under  such  form 
as  was  not  possible  elsewhere,  while  jt  was  sufllcient  here  to  justify' 
in  full  the  strongest  language  he  employs  in  regard  to  their  privi- 
leges and  hopes.  This  is  in  fact  a  constant  i)ractical  recognition 
of  the  article  in  question,  as  it  stands  in  the  Creed;  and  a  recogni- 
tion of  it  also  under  the  same  general  view,  as  being  not  simply  an 
arrangement  added  to  Christianity  from  without,  but  a  true  organic 
part  of  its  actual  substance  and  proper  heavenly  constitution, 
making  it  to  be  foirl}-  and  of  right  an  object,  not  of  opinion  merely 
but  of  faith,  for  all  men  in  all  ages  of  the  world. 


XI-AT  LANCASTER  FROM  1861-1876 

JEt.  58-73 


CHAPTER  XLV 


A  FTER  Dr.  IVevin  had  lived  eight  yea.rs  more  or  less  in  retire- 
-^^  ment  from  official  duties,  his  seclusion  seemed  to  become 
somewhat  irksome  to  him,  and  his  faithful  companion  seemed  to 
understand  what  he  needed  better  than  he  perhaps  did  himself.  He 
had  spent  many  years  in  academic  life,  and  that  was  something  in 
his  case  as  conducive  and  necessarj^  to  health  as  physical  exercise 
on  the  farm.  The  College  was  near  by,  and  why  should  his  talent 
for  instructing  3'oung  men  not  be  called  into  requisition  in  the  in- 
stitution as  in  former  years  ? — One  of  the  College  professors  met 
Mrs.  Nevin  one  morning  at  market,  and  inquired  of  her  how  the 
Doctor  was  getting  along  on  the  farm.  She  said  not  very  well ; 
there  seemed  to  be  something  the  matter  with  him ;  but  thought 
that,  if  he  could  have  some  regular  intellectual  work  to  perform,  it 
would  be  better  for  him,  inquiring  whether  room  might  not  be  made 
for  him  to  teach  for  a  part  of  his  time  in  the  College.  She  was  as- 
sured that  such  an  arrangement  was  quite  possible,  and  that  the 
Facultj^  would  no  doubt  be  glad  to  welcome  him  back  again  as  one 
of  their  colleagues.  So  it  turned  out,  and  the  Faculty  soon  after- 
wards requested  him  to  take  part  in  the  instructions  of  the  College, 
more  particularly^  in  the  department  of  histor^^ ;  and  the  Trustees  at 
their  annual  meeting  in  18G2  approved  of  the  an-angement.  He 
held  this  position  of  Lecturer  from  1861  to  1866.  Professor  Knep- 
pen  had  just  been  compelled  to  withdraw  from  his  post  as  Pro- 
fessor of  History,  because  the  funds  in  the  Treasury  were  not  ade- 
quate to  pa}^  him  his  salary  any  longer  ;  and  the  friends  of  the  Col- 
lege agreed  to  contribute  a  nominal  salar3'  for  Dr.  Nevin  for  several 
years  if  necessarj*,  in  order  that  he  might  make  up  for  the  loss  in 
the  vacant  professorship.  Historj'  had  been  receiving  increased  at- 
tention in  the  College,  but  it  was  felt  that  it  embraced  something 
more  than  what  is  usually'  taught  in  the  text-books.  To  supple- 
ment the  course  of  historical  stud}^,  therefore.  Dr.  Nevin  concluded 
to  deliver  several  lectures  weekly,  on  the  Philosoph}^  or  Science  of 

(590) 


Chap.  XLV]  lectures  on  history  591 

History,  for  which  he  was  ominentlj'  ([ualilied.  These  were  en- 
larged from  year  to  year,  and  from  the  notes  of  these  lectures,  taken 
down  hy  one  of  the  students,  we  here  give  their  substance  or  gen- 
eral drift. 

Histor}'  has  for  its  object  the  process  of  the  general  life  of  man,  ■ 
It  belongs  to  the  sphere  of  humanit}',  which  is  the  sphere  of  reason. 
Intelligence,  Reason,  and  Freedom  are  activities  that  spring  from 
themselves  and  not  from  blind  instinct.  This  free  action  we  find 
first  in  the  case  of  the  individufil  find  then  in  that  of  the  race.  This 
is  something  strictly  human.  The  movements  of  histor}'  differ 
from  tliose  of  nature  in  that  the}'  do  not  return  to  their  own  begin- 
nings; they  alwa^'s  tend  upwards,  while  those  of  nature  recur  in  a 
regular  C3'cle.  The  animal  never  rises  above  its  own  order,  but  in 
the  case  of  the  moral  and  historical  world  the  progress  is  always  from 
a  lower  to  a  higher  stadium.  AYe  cannot  say,  therefore,  that  there 
is  any  history  in  the  lives  of  animals  or  plants,  and  the  term  Nat- 
ural History  is  a  term  that  can  be  properly  used  only  in  the  way 
of  accommodation.  History  proper  implies  the  progress  of  natural 
life  or  its  record,  and  in  that  view  has  a  law  and  end  of  its  own,  as 
a  life  above  and  beyond  nature,  or  the  limitations  set  to  mere  ani- 
mal or  vegetable  life. 

Histor}^  manifests  itself  in  the  progress  of  the  individual,  of  the 
nation,  and  of  the  race  as  a  whole.  Biography  is  the  narrowest 
view  that  can  be  taken  of  histor}'.  But  the  life  of  an}'  single  man 
can  never  be  isolated  nor  be  truthfully  described  unless  the  exist- 
ing state  of  society  is  also  taken  into  consideration.  To  under- 
stand him  properl}',  therefore,  we  must  understand  the  histor}'  of 
societ}'  in  the  times  in  which  he  lived.  In  general,  therefore,  it  is 
the  representative  men  of  the  epochs  in  the  history'  of  the  world,  who 
are  held  up  as  studies  for  the  biographer.  As  a  single  individual 
ma}'  thus  stand  for  the  history  of  his  age,  this  kind  of  a  biography 
is  called  a  monograph.  Such  we  have  of  Luther,  Mohammed  and 
Xapoleon,  with  whose  lives  the  history  of  their  times  are  so  inti- 
mately connected  that  tlie  one  cannot  be  written  without  embracing 
the  otiier.  Tlius,  biogra[)hy  becomes  truly  historical;  but  when 
thus  considered,  it  becomes  a  very  difficult  species  of  composition. 

The  life  of  a  nation  is  different  from  that  of  individuals.  Com- 
mon nationality  is  a  mode  of  existence,  distinctive  from  personal 
existence.  Under  this  view,  it  is  a  body  of  people  bound  together 
by  common  interest  and  a  movement  towards  a  common  end.  The 
foundation  of  its  life  is  a  physical  substratum,  depending  ui)on  the 


592  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

influences  of  geographical  features,  such  as  climate,  atmosphere  and 
so  on.  But  the  development  of  man  is  a  moral  as  well  as  a  physical 
growth,  and  his  moral  and  invisible  substance  or  substratum  is  of 
more  importance  than  all  the  external  improvement  which  a  nation 
receives  from  external  influences.  Now  the  idea  of  national  history 
is  presented  to  us  in  this  national  life,  which  is  a  movement  that 
rises  and  extends  itself  through  its  individual  members.  Like  the 
history  of  the  individual,  it  has  a  beginning,  a  middle  and  an  end, 
but  unlike  the  natural  world  it  does  not  repeat  itself  in  a  cycle. 
No  nation  can  repeat  the  life  of  another;  each  has  a  life  of  its  own 
and  its  own  problem  to  solve;  but  both  the  individual  and  the 
national  life  come-to  an  end;  both  rise, progress, exhaust  themselves, 
decay,  fall,  and  in  their  turn  pass  away.  Histor}^,  however,  presents 
itself  to  us  also  in  a  complete  or  universal  sense. 

To  do  justice  to  individual  or  national  history,  both  must  be  re- 
garded as  connected  with  universal  or  world  history.  This  is  not 
the  sum  of  the  one  or  the  other,  or  of  the  two  combined.  It  has  also 
a  life  of  its  own,  in  which  the  others  are  comprehended  as  the  indi- 

-  vidual  and  particular  in  the  universal. — There  are  two  kinds  of  uni- 
versalit}^  One  of  these  we  reach  b^^  bringing  individuals  together 
and  employing  a  single  thought  to  comprehend  them  in  a  single  or 
common  term,  which  constitutes  a  generality  that  is  abstract.    The 

*  other  does  not  depend  upon  individual  things,  for  when  we  come  to 
penetrate  them  by  thought,  we  find  that  they  stand  for  something 
that  lies  beneath  and  back  of  them.  Thus  the  universal  ever  meets 
us  as  our  minds  penetrate  through  tangible  objects  to  that  which 

'  lies  behind.  This  is  the  true  idea  of  universality,  a  concretion  as 
opposed  to  an  abstraction.  The  sense  of  this  joined  to  the  abstract 
sense  is  part  and  parcel  of  the  general  thing  or  reality  itself  as  per= 
ceived  by  the  mind.  Hence  we  call  it  a  combined  generality  in  dis- 
tinction from  one  that  is  abstract.     The  difference  liei'e  between  the 

•  two  generalities  is  that  the  one  is  abstract  and  the  other  organic. 
History  thus  coming  before  us  as  a  whole  or  a  totality  is  Uni- 
versal or  World  History.  In  this  character  it  is  not  the  sum  or 
mere  aggregation  of  individual  history,  but  a  totality  including  a 
movement  which  has  in  it  a  law,  tending  towards  a  particular  end. 
So  all  history  as  being  the  representation  of  the  life  of  man  is  or- 
ganic. This  implies  that  there  is  a  vital  principle  active  in  it  from 
beginning  to  end.  The  development  must,  therefore,  be  subject  to 
some  law,  which  binds  all  the  parts  together  into  a  single  whole, 
always  tending  towards  some  definite  end  or  result.  There  must 
therefore  be  unity  here  as  in  all  other  organisms.     The  apparent 


Chap.  XLV]  lectures  on  history  593 

discords  :ind  disorder  in  liistory  do  not  necessarih'  contradict  what 
is- thus  affirmed.  We  must  believe  that  there  is  order  here  amidst 
what  seems  to  be  endless  confusion,  or  deny  that  man  possesses 
rationalit3-.'  To  suppose  that  tliere  is  order  in  nature,  and  yet  to 
doubt  that  it  obtains  in  liistory,  is  infidel  and  foolish. 

The  idea  of  World  Histor}*  as  no  barren  abstraction  must  be 
regarded  as  a  postulate,  which  we  are  obliged  to  admit  to  our  rea- 
son. As  such  the  world  as  a  whole  has  a  meaning,  a  rise,  a  prog- 
ress and  an  end,  controlled  throughout  by  the  presence  of  \nw. 
Hence  when  we  speak  of  the  Science  of  Histor}^  we  mean  Univer- 
sal History. 

It  has  been  a  question  wdiether  we  should  begin  at  World  His- 
tor}'  and  then  descend  to  that  of  nations  and  individuals,  or  pursue 
the  reverse  course.  Both  of  these  methods  have  been  adopted. 
The  latter  is  abstract  and  fails  to  bring  the  mind  to  a  proper  con- 
ception of  an  organism ;  the  former,  however,  maj^  lead  to  such  a 
determination.  Hegel  and  others  begin  at  the  whole  and  thus  at- 
tempt to  construct  a  philosophy-  of  histor3\  This  is  an  ideal 
scheme,  in  accordance  with  which  history  is  required  to  proceed 
and  then  descend  to  that  of  nations  and  individuals.  But  we  can- 
not separate  the  universal  from  the  i)articular.  The  true  idea  of 
science  requires  generally  that  the  two  should  be  united  and  pro- 
ceed together.     And  so  it  should  be  in  the  treatment  of  history. 

In  speaking  of  history  thus  far,  the  word  has  been  used  in  its 
most  general  sense,  as  denoting  the  movement  of  humanity  in  the 
life  of  man.  When,  however,  we  have  to  do  with  it  as  a  science, 
we  must  accustom  ourselves  to  the  distinction  which  is  involved  in 
its  name  as  a  science.  It  is  used  without  the  distinction  of  matter 
and  form  in  our  own  minds.  Histor}-  is  objective  in  one  view — 
lies  (jestfB — and  subjective  in  another — written  history.  In  the  one 
case  it  is  the  actual  progress  or  movement  of  humanity  as  a  whole, 
as  something  objective  to  the  human  mind;  in  the  other  case,  it  is 
to  be  understood  as  the  knowdedge  of  this  movement,  or  the  image 
of  it  as  it  is  reflected  upon  our  minds.  This  latter,  subjective  his- 
tory exists  of  course  only  in  the  knowledge  or  thought  of  man,  and 
as  such  is  written  out,  and  becomes,  as  it  were,  the  tradition  of  his- 
tory, sometimes  called  historiography.  Thus  history  in  the  one  case 
is  confined  to  the  sense  of  tlie  movement,  whilst  in  the  otiier  it  is 
the  I'epresentation  or  record  of  it  as  handed  down  from  one  genera- 
tion to  another. 

History  is  thus  general,  particular  and  individual,  but  before  it 
is  studied  under  any  one  of  these  aspects,  certain  i)ropositions  must 


594  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

be  previonsl}'  admitted  as  true,  else  it  is  void  of  liglit  and  presents 
an  insolvable  riddle.  It  must  be  a  S3'stem  complete  in  itself;  'it 
must  include  order,  law,  unit^^  and  an  ultimate  sense  or  meaning; 
it  cannot  be  the  result  of  chance,  or  be  regarded  as  chaotic  in  any 
sense;  it  is  a  s^'Stem  that  has  a  rational  constitution;  we  have  in  it 
the  presence  of  intelligence,  which  does  away  with  the  idea  of  a 
blind  necessity;  and,  in  studying  history,  we  must  consequently 
believe  in  the  presence  of  law  and  order  working  towards  a  rational 
end.  In  a  word,  we  must  believe  that  God  is  in  history  as  well  as 
man  and  the  devil.  Such  ideas  are  not  reached  by  induction,  but 
come  from  the  moral  world,  which  is  the  world  of  mind. 

Whilst  history  or  humanity  in  an  historical  form  is  thus  a  unitj', 
it  is  not  by  au}^  means  absolutely'  simple,  but  presents  itself  in  a 
complex  character  or  variety  of  phases,  that  call  for  classification 
or  distinction.  The  action  which  results  from  this  complex  charac- 
ter of  human  life  is  divided  into  two  parts,  chronologically,  and 
synchronistically  or  simultaneous  action.  Under  the  latter  view 
every  individual  man  in  proportion  to  his  contents  includes  in  him- 
self different  spheres,  such  as  science,  art  or  religion ;  and  so  likewise 
in  the  case  of  national  life  there  are  spheres  common  to  a  nation  as 
a  whole,  which  progress  together.  The  same  is  true  of  humanity 
as  a  whole;  it  in  like  manner  breaks  up  into  different  spheres,  which, 
although  separate,  nevertheless  hold  together.  These  are  not  sta- 
tionarj',  but  have  a  movement  corresponding  with  the  more  general 
movement  that  is  constantly  going  forward.  Each  sphere  may 
thus  be  made  the  subject  of  an  individual  historj^  as  in  the  divine 
counsel  of  redemption,  in  the  life  of  Christ  as  given  in  the  Creed, 
or  the  history  of  Christianity.  In  this  view  history,  which  rests 
on  the  manifold  spheres  of  life,  becomes  very  complex ;  but  it  must 
be  remembered  that  these  spheres  are  bound  to  each  other  S3'nchro- 
nistically,  and  cannot  be  studied  with  advantage  independentl}^  of 
each  other.  Each  sphere  forms  as  it  were  a  stream;  each  stream 
is  confined  to  its  channel;  all  rest  upon  a  funda,mental  movement 
or  law ;  and  this  gives  rise  to  the  Philosoph}-  of  History,  or  the 
Science  of  the  Idea  as  it  underlies  the  movement  of  the  life  of  the 
individual,  of  the  nation  and  of  the  world,  penetrating  as  it  does 
every  single  or  individual  sphere.  This  idea  of  course  is  not  sta- 
tionary, but  moves  and  changes  its  character  from  time  to  time, 
and  with  it  these  spheres  also  move.  Accordingly,  while  we  see  and 
acknowledge  a  movement  in  each  sphere,  we  must  also  see  that  they 
cannot  move  otherwise  than  as  the}'^  are  determined  by  their  funda- 
mental idea,  or  that  which  underlies  the  history  of  the  world  itself. 


I 


ClIAP.  XLV]  LECTURES    ON    HISTORY  595 

The^' belong  to  tlioir  own  individual  nations  and  times,  and  as  they 
pass  away  it  is  impossible  to  resuscitate  them.  That  Avliieh  is  past 
is  past  and  cannot  be  recalled. 

There  is,  however,  another  view  of  the  movement  of  human  life, 
and  this  is  the  chronological.  Here  it  is  not  a  cycle,  but  a  progress 
going  forward  age  after  age.  It  is,  of  course,  not  uniform,  but  may 
be  broken  up  into  parts.  The  division  of  the  study  of  history  into 
spheres  may  be  compared  to  parallel  lines,  whilst  that  which  is 
simph'  chronological  consists  of  stages  of  progression  in  the  gen- 
eral direction  of  a  straight  line.  The  movement,  however,  is  not 
always  continuous.  It  resembles  that  of  a  human  being  from  child- 
hood to  youth,  from  youth  to  manhood,  and  from  manhood  to  old 
age.  There  may  be  in  it  at  times  abrupt  interrui)tions,  like  a 
stream  ftxlling  from  one  level  to  another,  but  with  this  difference, 
that  whilst  the  stream  falls  from  one  stage  to  another,  history,  on 
the  other  hand,  rt.ses  from  one  plane  to  another. — Life  is  thus 
divided  into  stages,  and  what  is  true  of  individual  history  is  also 
true  of  what  is  national.  There  are  changes  which  arise  that  seem 
to  shake  or  change  the  destinies  of  nations.  These  are  called  rev- 
olutions, which  elevate  the  national  life  from  one  level  to  another. 
Thus,  too,  the  history  of  the  world  does  not  always  proceed  in  a 
uniform  course;  it  alters  its  general  plane,  but  always  tending  up- 
wards from  one  to  another,  in  which  each  one  is  higher  than  the 
preceding.  But  with  this  change  of  base  there  is  also  a  change  of 
theatre  on  which  the  movement  proceeds. 

In  the  individual  or  national  life,  the  movement  proceeding  on 
tlie  same  theatre,  solves  only  the  problem  whose  solution  leads  to 
the  solution  of  another  and  higher  one.  When  this  is  accomplished 
ill  the  case  of  a  nation,  it  is  dropped  or  disappears  almost,  if  not  en- 
tirely, from  the  general  solution  of  the  world's  problem.  It  has 
acted  its  part  and  then  passes  behind  the  curtain.  Beginning  in 
the  Orient  the  progi'ess  advanced  westward.  Greek  and  Roman 
civilization,  the  migration  of  nations,  the  rise  of  German  civiliza- 
tion, France,  Italy,  England  and  America,  are  but  the  stages  in  the 
solution  of  one  and  the  same  great  (piestion.  In  all  this  we  observe 
simply  successive  stages  in  the  same  grand  march  of  history. 

Tlie  convulsions  attending  this  onward  movement  are  properly 
denominated  crises,  l)ecaiise  they  decide  some  point  at  issue  where, 
for  a  time,  destructive  and  conservative  forces  meet  each  other  in 
fierce  conflict;  and,  Avhetiier  the  point  in  dispute  be  settled  in  cab- 
inets or  on  the  battle-field,  they  do  not  go  backwards.  This  is  a 
l)Ostul:ite  or  universnl  law  in  which  our  faith  reiiuires  us  to  believe. 


596  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

Here  we  meet  with  epochs  and  eras.  The  former  marks  the  break 
where  the  era  begins.  Thus  'the  Christian  era  is  the  period  since 
the  birth  of  Christ,  which  is  the  grandest  of  all  epochs  in  history. 

The  sense  of  Universal  History,  as  a  whole,  is  one,  but  it  com- 
prises at  the  same  time  different  problems  that  must  be  solved  sep- 
arately. Each  nation  has  a  purpose  in  liistor}'-  or  a  share  in  bring- 
ing about  the  grand  result.  It  runs  its  course  and  then  perishes, 
but  the  results  it  has  reached  live,  and  are  carried  forward  in  an- 
other channel  by  a  new  nation,  which  in  its  turn  also  perishes  but 
sends  the  result  of  its  life  still  farther  onward.  In  this  diversity 
of  national  factors  there  is,  however,  one  central  stream,  which 
changes  its  channel  and  level  at  each  step  of  the  solution  which  it 
takes.  It  is  not  confined  to  any  single  nationalit}'  nor  within  the 
same  geographical  boundaries. 

This  movement  is  a  rational  one,  subject  to  law,  and  never  at 
the  mercy  of  mere  chance,  else  we  could  have  no  faith  in  it.  It  is 
continually  evolving  changes, and  sometimes  it  seems  to  turn  back- 
ward; for  having  solved  one  problem,  it  must  as  it  were  go  back 
and  take  up  new  forces  which  have  not  as  yet  been  developed.  This 
retrograde  movement  is  a  preparation  for  that  which  follows.  The 
beginning  of  a  stage  or  era  is  always  an  apparent  retrograde. 

The  rationality  of  history  is  a  postulate  of  our  reason,  and  of 
our  religious  reason  in  particular.  The  study  of  it  must  be  di- 
rected towards  a  proper  apprehension  of  its  law  and  its  truth,  with- 
out which  we  must  ever  occupy  a  wrong  stand-point,  and  look  upon 
the  whole  process  without  seeing  in  it  the  harmony  of  its  parts. 
Here  Hegel  erred.  He  attempted  too  much  on  the  strength  of 
mere  reason.  We  can  understand  the  system  of  nature  below  us; 
we  can  see  that  the  world  is,  as  it  were,  a  theatre  in  which  man 
acts  ;  w^e  can  see  that  there  is  a  law  which  runs  through  it  up  to 
man,  and  we  can  see  that  man  is  the  key  to  this  law.  But  it  has 
not  been  proved  that  we  are  capable  of  determining  the  life  of  the 
world  by  simply  studying  the  life  of  man.  In  presuming  to  do 
that  Hegel  was  too  venturesome.  It  has  never  been  found  possible 
in  this  way  to  discern  the  chief  end  of  man,  nor  to  find  a  key  to 
explain  it.  The  efforts  or  failures  to  do  this  have  only  tended  to 
show  that  this  end  lies  beyond  this  life  and  the  present  world. 

It  has  been  supposed  that  this  key  is  to  be  found  in  the  political 
and  scientific  life  of  man,  but  it  has  been  proved  to  be  unsatisfac- 
tory; and  we  are  therefore  compelled  to  admit  that  man's  chief  end 
lies  be3'ond  the  pi'esent  life  and  order  of  things.  Here  religion 
comes  in  to  our  aid  and  throws  its  light  on  the  dark  problem.    This 


ClIAP.  XLV]  LECTURES   ON    HISTORY  597 

being  the  supreme  object  of  life,  it  must  underlie  the  entire  order 
of  the  world,  running  through  both  the  njitural  and  mental.  We 
have  an  example  of  this  in  Jewish  history.  We  cannot  conceive  of 
their  separation  from  the  rest  of  mankind,  unless  it  was  for  the 
benefit  of  humanity  at  large,  and  so  we  find  it. 

Under  this  view,  then,  the  grand  sense  of  the  world  comes  out  in 
the  Christian  revelation,  and  Christ  must  be  regarded  as  the  ke}' 
that  unlocks  the  m3'stery  of  human  existence.  Christianity  must, 
accordingly,  be  considered  as  carrying  along  with  it  the  central 
current  of  the  world's  life,  whilst  all  other  currents  are  onh^  subor- 
dinate. We  must  not  be  deterred  by  the  difficulty  of  comprehend- 
ing the  sense  of  much  that  is  embraced  in  history,  both  before  and 
since  the  time  of  Christ;  but  we  must  admit  that  it  exists  or  else 
doubt  Christianity  itself  as  a  ftict.  Jesus  Christ  must  be  the  foun- 
dation of  our  life,  and  the  main  stream  of  history  must  be  in  the 
Christian  Church.  Every  other  belief  is  of  the  essence  of  infidelit}'. 
The  law  of  history-,  therefore,  tends  towards  Christianity,  of  which 
Christ  is  the  principle  or  life,  and  it  is  only  as  we  apprehend  it 
in  this  way  that  we  can  prosecute  the  study  of  it  witli  any  proper 
degree  of  comfort  or  success. 

History  is  objective  when  it  is  spoken  of  as  an  object  of  stud}-, 
and  subjective  when  we  speak  of  our  knowledge  of  it.  As  a  matter 
of  study  it  supplies  a  variety  of  sources  or  resources  from  which 
historical  knowledge  is  accjuired,  such  as  tradition  in  its  widest 
sense,  monuments,  inscriptions,  ruined  cities  and  so  forth.  But 
the  knowledge  of  history,  either  for  the  student  or  the  historian, 
depends  not  simply  upon  such  outward  helps, but  still  more  so  upon 
certain  internal  qualifications  on  the  part  of  the  historian  or  student, 
without  which  the  mere  material  of  history  would  be  of  little  ac- 
count, the  objective  and  the  subjective  being  '*  useless  each  without 
the  other." 

Learning,  thorough  and  exhaustive,  is  indispensable  and  the 
l)rimary  resource  of  the  historian,  but  not  this  without  other  quali- 
fications however  great.  This  can  l)ring  together  a  vast  pile  of 
materials  but  it  cannot  construct  a  house  or  a  palace.  Faith  and 
imagination  are  needed  to  reduce  the  crude  material  into  a  picture 
or  counterpart  of  the  true  historical  movement,  as  something  that 
possesses  in  it  a  life  truly  organic. 

We  must  believe  that  the  divine  presence  is  ever  active  in  the 
world;  that  the  physical  is  only  the  substratum,  upon  which  the 
moral  order  rests;  that  God  is  ever  directing  the  world  of  man  to- 
wards its   proper  end,  always   in   harmony  with  human  freedom, 


598  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

which,  however,  can  neA'er  set  aside  the  divine  plan  or  law.  In  the 
whole  process  we  witness  a  human  factor,  but  at  the  same  time 
there  is  also  a  divine  factor  which  rules  and  directs  towards  one  re- 
sult.— This  faith,  in  the  first  place,  is  a  belief  in  the  being  and 
presence  of  God;  then  that  His  will  has  been  made  known  to  us 
through  a  divine  revelation ;  and  that  this  revelation  completes  it- 
self in  Christianity,  which  alone  reveals  the  Divine  presence.  With- 
out the  light  that  shines  forth  from  the  person  of  Christ  both  nature 
and  history  are  involved  in  gross  darkness ;  with  its  help  the  divine 
plan  and  purpose  become  manifest.  But  Christianity  is  more  than 
a  light ;  it  is  also  a  power  in  history,  greater  than  all  others,  whether 
friendly  or  unfriendl}'  to  it.  This  is  involved  in  Mth,  and  must  be 
admitted  as  a  postulate  of  common  sense  by  all  who  believe  in  the 
Bible.  It  is  only,  therefore,  as  we  recognize  a  supernatural  element 
as  having  entered  the  bosom  of  history-,  are  we  in  a  condition  to 
write,  study  or  understand  it. 

Christ  is  the  central  fact,  from  which  all  other  historical  facts 
derive  their  significance.  He  is  the  key  that  unlocks  its  mysteries 
and  apparent  contradictions.  All  history  previous  to  His  Advent 
was  jDreparatory  to  this  grand  Epoch,  and  what  has  followed  since 
is  the  completion. 

This  view  then  furnished  a  necessary  stand-point,  from  which  all 
historical  observations  are  to  be  made.  Learning  is  a  necessarj^ 
and  powerful  agent,  but  in  itself  inadequate  to  enter  into  the  mean- 
ing and  bearings  of  historical  data.  In  truth  much  learning  here 
without  faith  only  serves  to  uncover  confusion  and  to  render  the 
darkness  still  more  visible. — As  in  the  phj'sical  so  in  the  moral 
world,  we  must  occup}'  a  position  from  which  the  entire  field  may 
be  survej'ed,  and  that  must  be  the  right  one,  central  and  command- 
ing. Otherwise  the  observer  is  in  danger  of  being  influenced  by 
his  own  subjective  opinions,  political  or  religious.  This  being  the 
case,  we  see  that  there  is  room  for  distrusting  a  large  amount  o'f 
what  goes  under  the  name  of  history. 

The  works  of  ancient  historians  rest  upon  the  assumption  of  a 
divine  power  in  all  historical  movements.  They  proceeded  from  a 
safer  stand-point  than  that  of  modern  writers  who  have  no  faith  in 
the  Bible.  On  this  account  some  of  these  old  writers  are  entitled 
to  high  respect,  although  they  are  not  safe  guides  in  the  study  of 
World  History.  Among  so  called  Christian  historians  many  under 
this  view  are  unworthy  of  our  confidence. — There  is  the  same  ten- 
dency among  modern  writers  as  that  which  prevails  with  those 
who  study  the  natural  Avorld,  to  fix  their  minds  upon  the  laws  of 


Chap.  XLV]  lectures  on  history  599 

nature  and  think  that  the  econoray  of  the  whole  world  may  be  re- 
duced to  similar  or  merely  natural  laws.  Thus  they  in  fact  pro- 
mote the  interests  of  the  cause  of  infidelity.  Many  historians, 
therefore,  as  well  as  natui'al  philosophers  are  destitute  of  both  piety 
and  faith.  Gibbon  and  Hume,  both  men  of  great  historical  learn- 
ing and  ability,  having  no  faith  in  Christianity,  labor  therefore 
under  the  serious  defect  of  viewing  the  periods  they  describe  from 
a  wrong  stand-point.  Their  works  are  dangerous,  not  from  the  di- 
rect attacks  which  the}-  make  upon  Christiauit}',  but  from  their 
reigning  spirit. 

Christianity  is  more  or  less  brought  into  contact  and  conflict 
with  the  various  interests  which  make  up  our  political  and  social 
life.  The  Church  is  one  order  and  the  State  another,  and  the  two 
frequently  come  in  conflict.  The  religious  movement  may  be  em- 
barrassed or  corrupted  b\'  human  passion  or  interest,  so  that  all 
which  ma}'  be  done  in  the  name  of  religion  may  not  be  right.  But 
the  proper  idea  of  Christianity  requires  that  we  should  believe 
that  in  a  general  way  Christianity  has  the  truth  on  its  side  ;  and  in 
looking  at  the  course  of  human  life  we  must  believe  that  the  right 
is  represented  bj-  the  Church,  at  least  until  the  contrar}-  is  proved. 
This  belief  of  the  historian  is  not  and  should  not  be  mere  blind 
devotion  to  the  Church  as  the  divine  factor  in  histor}-. 

But  the  historian  needs  imagination  as  well  as  faith  and  learning. 
This  faculty  is  in  general  a  power  which  reproduces  circumstances 
by  an  insight  into  their  constitution.  It  difl^ers  from  memory, 
which  only  brings  up  past  facts,  in  that  it  reconstructs  the  fticts. 
It  is,  therefore,  not  necessarj'  to  know  all  the  facts  in  a  given  case, 
as  they  may  not  at  all  times  be  accessible ;  it  is  only  necessar}-  to 
have  enough  to  enable  the  historian  to  get  at  the  principle  or 
ground  of  the  facts.  Then  by  the  power  of  his  imagination  he 
can  restore  them  to  their  original  order.  Memor}- cannot  supple- 
ment anything;  imagination  can,  in  a  measure,  fill  out  the  missing- 
links  and  connections,  and  is  consequently  the  faculty  of  repro- 
duction, creative,  as  it  were,  causing  the  object  to  be  presented  to 
us  in  a  new  form.  This  power  is  of  immense  account  in  our  every- 
day life  ;  but  it  is  especiall}-  so  in  the  moral  world  of  histor}-, 
where  the  want  of  it  is  sure  to  lead  the  reporter  of  facts  astray. 

There  may  seem  to  be  a  large  amount  of  fidelity  in  stating  facts 
as  they  occur,  but  without  the  help  of  the  imagination  they  will  be 
in  a  large  measure  distorted,  either  b}-  passion  or  interest,  and  thus 
appear  in  false  colors.  A  vast  amount  of  the  slander  in  history 
arises  from  false  apprehension  arising  from  the  absence  of  imagi- 


600  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

nntion.  There  must  indeed  he  facts,  but  there  must  be  a  capacity 
and  a  power  b}^  which  their  relations  and  bearings  can  be  brought 
into  clear  view.  Where  this  is  large  and  active,  whilst  the  student 
cannot  dispense  with  facts  entirely,  he  will  be  able  to  make  a  better 
use  of  a  small  number  of  them  than  one  without  them  can  with  a  . 
much  larger  supply. 

An  example  illustrative  of  these  remarks  is  found  in  the  study  of 
anatomy  and  fossil  remains,  where  a  bone  or  fragment  of  a  bone 
may  be  a  fact  sufficient,  with  the  help  of  the  imagination  and  learn- 
ing, to  reprod  uce  the  whole  animal.  The  same  achievement  is  accom- 
plished b}'  the  historian  when  he  enters  the  spirit  of  an  age  and  with 
his  imagination  reproduces  its  life  and  form.  He  brings  together, 
as  it  were,  the  dr}'  skeletons  of  histor^^  puts  them  together,  articu- 
lates them,  clothes  them  with  muscles  and  flesh,  and  breathes  into 
them  life. — Thus  history  becomes  a  fine  art  as  well  as  a  science. 
In  recent  times  history  has  come  to  be  regarded  and  studied  in  this 
light.  Neander  gave  the  first  impulse  in  this  direction  in  the  sphere 
of  Church  History.  He  w^as  particularly-  qualified  by  his  childlike 
character  and  great  learning  for  such  a  work.  He  had  the  full 
faith  that  was  needed,  and  with  his  imagination  he  brings  up  the 
church  fathers  and  causes  them  to  stand  before  us  as  if  still  alive. 
The  historical  pictures  or  representations  of  Mosheim  are  cold  and 
dead,  whilst  those  of  Neander  are  full  of  life  and  warmth.  The 
pi'ogress  here  mentioned  has  extended  into  all  parts  of  histoiy.  It 
had  its  beginning  in  Germany,  but  it  has  extended  also  into  our 
own  and  other  countries,  and  history  as  an  art  has  entered  upon  a 
new  era.  Without  faith  and  imagination,  the  study  of  histoiy  is 
useless  and  embarrassing. 

Histoiy,  as  a  science,  has,  properly  speaking,  its  end  in  itself. 
Like  all  other  sciences  and  departments  of  art,  it  is  valuable  on  its 
own  account,  as  an  object  of  knowledge,  and  serves  to  enlarge  our 
inward  being.  In  the  first  place,  therefore,  it  becomes  an  important 
discipline  for  the  mind,  as  tending  to  the  exercise  of  moral  think- 
ing. In  close  connection  with  such  benefit  it  tends  also  to  the 
enlargement  and  liberalization  of  our  spiritual  and  intellectual  ex- 
istence. Thus  it  is  Avith  the  tendency  of  all  true  science.  It  serves 
to  enlarge  and  liberalize  the  sphere  of  our  knowledge,  to  complete 
our  personalit}^,  and  to  make  our  life  general  instead  of  individual. 
Histor}^  in  this  respect  is  the  counterpart  of  travel.  When  rightly 
prosecuted  as  something  objective,  it  frees  the  mind  from  subject- 
ive narrowness  and  prejudice.  Such  enlargement  of  mind  at  the 
same  time  serves  to  humanize,  polish  and  refine  its  powers. 


Chap.  XLY]  lectures  on  history  001 

The  lessons  of  history  in  the  hand  of  a  historian  gifted  with  im- 
agination ma^'  be  usefully  applied  by  means  of  the  analogies  which 
the}-  present,  for  though  no  two  periods  of  history  are  exactly  the 
same,  yet  we  must  bear  in  mind  that  human  nature  is  the  same  at 
all  times  and  under  all  circumstances,  being  subject  to  the  same 
general  laws  which  govern  its  movements. 

In  the  proper  idea  of  history  it  is  not  necessary  to  suppose  tliat 
all  the  actions  of  mankind  must  be  included.  Of  these  mueli  is 
prehistorical,  imiiistorical  or  extra-historical.  Although  many  facts 
have  l)een  undoubtedly  lost  for  our  knowledge,  j'et  we  ma}'  reason- 
ably question  whether  it  is  aft<ir  all  a  real  loss  to  the  world;  for 
we  must  remember  that  the  movement  of  history  is  always  directed 
1)y  some  central  stream,  which  includes  in  itself  its  own  proper  end. 
— We  assume  that  the  pre-historical  does  not  necessarih'  appertain 
to  the  constitution  of  history;  for  as  in  the  life  of  a  single  man,  it 
is  not  necessary  that  we  should  know  anything  of  his  infancy,  in 
order  to  estimate  his  character,  which  begins  properl}^  to  develop 
itself  when  his  personality  becomes  complete,  so  in  a  nation,  that 
which  precedes  its  development  cannot  be  regarded  as  a  serious  loss. 
What  is  really  significant  for  the  histor}-  of  a  nation  can  not  be 
lost,  since  it  will  enter  into  its  consciousness  and  abide  there. 
And  what  is  true  of  the  history  of  a  nation  will  be  found  to  be 
true  of  that  of  the  world  as  a  whole. 

During  this  period  of  time  Dr.  Nevin  became  concerned  about 
the  si)iritual  interests  of  his  friend  and  neighbor,  Ex-President 
James  Buchanan.  Wheatland  was  not  far  from  the  College  build- 
ing, and  ]Mr.  IJuchanan  frequently  attended  Divine  service  in  the 
College  Chapel,  especially  when  Dr.  Xevin  occupied  the  pulpit.  lie 
enjoyed  the  respect  and  esteem  of  the  students  and  Professors, 
who  were  very  courteousl}-  received  at  his  home,  and  instructed  no 
less  than  entertained  by  the  intellectual  conversation  of  the  aged 
Statesman.  Caernarvon  Place  was  also  onl}'  a  short  distance  from 
Mr.  Buchanan's  residence,  and  the  two  families  held  frequent  inter- 
course with  each  other,  the  ladies,  including  Miss  Harriet  Lane, 
often  crossing  the  fields  and  the  fences  to  see  each  other,  instead 
of  taking  the  longer  route  by  the  public  road. — Mr.  Buchanan 
came  from  Christian  parentage,  had  had  a  pious  mother,  and  had 
received  a  religious  training  in  his  youth.  lie  was,  in  fact,  a  relig- 
ious man,  and  was  accustomed  to  practice  many  of  the  duties  re- 
(luiicd  of  a,  church  member. — But  he  had  never  made  a  pul)lic  pro- 
fession of  his  faith  iioi-  connected  himself  foiniMlly  with  the  Chris- 
38 


602  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

tian  Church.  When  urged  to  do  so  by  his  friends,  during  liis  public 
life,  he  was  wont  to  say  that  he  would  attend  to  this  duty  when  he 
should  once  get  out  of  politics  or  public  life.  After  he  left  the 
Presidential  chair  and  returned  to  his  home  at  Lancaster,  he  told 
his  friends  that  now  all  that  he  had  to  do  was  to  prepare  him- 
self for  another  world.  Immediatel}',  therefore,  he  gave  the  subject 
of  religion  his  serious  attention,  read  the  Bible,  studied  the  evi- 
dences of  Christianity  and  examined  carefully  the  statements  of 
different  formularies  of  faith,  in  which  he  was  encouraged  by  Dr. 
Nevin,  Dr.  Wolff",  Rev.  I.  S.  Demund,  and  others.  After  careful 
stud}',  he  said  that  of  all  the  church  confessions  that  he  had  read, 
he  liked  the  Heidelberg  Catechism  the  best  and  could  subscribe  ex 
animo  to  all  that  it  contained. 

When,  however,  it  was  thought  that  he  would  connect  himself 
publicly  with  the  faithful,  he  began  to  falter,  did  not  know  to  what 
congregation  he  should  attach  himself,  and  wished  that  he  had  at- 
tended to  this  dut}'  long  before.  His  friends  became  more  solicit- 
ous about  him  and  spoke  to  him  faithfull}-.  Dr.  Nevin  told  him 
that  his  proper  place  would  be  in  the  Presbyterian  Church,  to 
which  his  parents  and  ancestors  belonged ;  but  the  doctrine  of  pre- 
destination, to  which  he  could  not  subscribe,  was  a  difficulty  in  his 
way  in  that  Church  ;  he  was  then  advised  to  join  the  Episcopal 
Church,  in  which  his  brother  Edward  was  a  clergj-man  ;  but  there 
were  difficulties  there  in  the  way  also  ;  and  his  friend, the  Doctor,  was 
at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  say  next.  Incidentally  he  remarked  that 
there  was  some  talk  of  organizing  a  congregation  in  the  College 
for  the  students  and  Professors'  families,  which  Mr.  Buchanan  was 
much  pleased  to  hear,  remarking  that  he  would  be  quite  willing  to 
be  received  as  a  member  into  such  a  congregation,  as  soon  as  it  was 
organized.  In  such  congenial  surroundings,  with  Dr.  Nevin  as  his 
spiritual  adviser,  in  Christian  sympathy  with  the  Professors  and 
students,  he  thought  he  could  feel  entirely  at  home,  take  up  his 
cross  and  follow  Christ,  Quite  likel}'  he  hoped  in  this  wa}^,  when 
political  excitement  was  still  running  ver}^  high  and  he  was  much 
abused,  that  in  the  seclusion  of  the  College  his  public  profession 
of  religion  would  not  be  noticed  in  the  press,  and  that  he  would 
thus  escape  unfriendly  criticism.  Only  one  difficulty,  a  very  slight 
one,  seemed  to  remain  in  his  way.  Owing  to  his  age  he  was  appre- 
hensive that  he  could  not  kneel  with  ease  to  receive  the  rite  of  con- 
firmation. He  was,  however,  informed  that  in  the  Reformed  Church 
kneeling  was  not  considered  an  essential  part  of  confirmation,  and 
that  in  the  case  of  elderly  or  infirm  persons  it  was  regarded  as  le- 


Chap.  XLV]  ex-president  buciianan  G03 

gitimate  to  lay  hands  on  them  in  a  standing  posture  when  they 
were  confirmed.  This  was  satisfactorj-,  and  he  was  now  of  his  own 
free  and  intelligent  choice  a  candidate  for  full  membership  in  the 
Reformed  Church. 

Under  such  a  stimulus  as  this,  Dr.  Xevin  earnestl}'  urged  upon 
the  Faculty  the  immediate  formation  of  a  college  congregation, 
something  which,  under  an^-  circumstances,  he  felt  was  the  right 
and  proper  thing.  There  were,  however,  some  unseemly  delays 
in  effecting  an  organization ;  there  were  difficulties  in  separating 
from  the  old  congregation  in  the  citj^  where  the  presence  of  the 
college  people  was  highly  apirreciated;  and  it  took  some  time  l)e- 
fore  the  congregation  in  the  college  could  be  organized.  In  the 
meantime  Mr.  Buchanan  became  more  and  more  anxious  to  be  ad- 
mitted to  the  sealing  ordinances  of  the  Church;  and  as  he  knew 
that  the  sands  of  time  Avere  ebbing  away,  he  felt  that  what  he  did 
in  the  matter  he  ought  to  do  with  all  his  might.  Having  ascer- 
tained that  he  would  not  be  required  to  accept  the  doctrine  of  pre- 
destination as  taught  in  the  symbolical  books,  quieth-  and  unob- 
trusivel}"  he  was  received  into  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  cit}^ 
where  he  had  been  accustomed  to  worship;  and  the  Presbyterian 
brethren  thanked  the  college  professors  for  the  interest  the}'  had 
manifested  in  the  spiritual  welfare  of  one  of  their  own  children. 
The}'  had  indeed  urged  their  Reformed  brethren  to  look  after  his 
soul,  as  they  said,  and  seek  to  bring,  him  into  the  Christian  fold. 

Mr.  Buchanan  adorned  his  Christian  profession,  was  an  humble 
and  sincere  Christian,  charitable  to  the  poor,  sympathetic  with  those 
that  were  sufferers,  liberal  in  the  support  of  public  interests,  un- 
tarnished in  his  private  moral  character,  and  with  more  patriotism 
and  love  for  the  union  of  his  native  eountr}-  than  he  has,  peiiiaps, 
as  yet  received  credit  for.  He  died  in  peace  on  the  first  of  June, 
1808,  believing  that  he  would  meet  his  friends  in  heaven,  and  hop- 
ing also  tliat  he  would  be  permitted  to  revisit  Wheatland  at  times, 
drink  from  its  fountain  of  crj'Stal  water,  and  in  spirit  hold  fast  to 
its  cherished  associations,  Avhere  he  had  often  found  peace  and  rest 
of  mind  as  he  sought  refuge  from  the  storms  of  political  life.  At 
his  funeral  Dr.  Nevin  delivered  a  veiy  appropriate  funeral  discourse 
in  the  main  hall  of  his  mansion,  where  he  lay  like  a  statesman,  with 
his  grand  physique,  taking  his  rest,  in  the  peaceful  embrace  of 
death.  See  the  Life  of  President  Buchanan,  b}'  George  Ticknor 
Curtis,  published  in  two  volumes,  in  1883. 

The  congregation  which  Mr.  Buchanan  wished  to  join  was  or- 
ganized on   J'alm   Sunday,  18()5,  and    Dr.  Xcvin,  during  his  presi- 


604  AT   LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

denc}-  of  the  College,  became  its  pastor.  It,  perhaps  moi'e  than 
anything  else,  helped  to  earrj^  into  effect  his  idea  of  what  all  true 
education  ought  to  be — one  in  which  Christian  culture  should  be 
the  ruling  principle  of  the  whole  process.  Catechetical  classes 
were  formed  under  his  administration,  and  a  considerable  number 
of  students  were  received  into  the  Church  by  confirmation,  some  of 
of  whom  at  least  probably  would  not  have  joined  the  Church  at  all, 
if  the  opportunity^  had  not  been  presented  in  this  way.  The  congre- 
gation grew  in  membership,  and  with  its  services  and  sacraments 
it  has  become  truly  a  spiritual  home,  the  house  of  God,  to  students, 
professors  and  others.  It  has  now  come  to  be  regarded  very  prop- 
erly' as  the  central  part  of  the  College  curriculum. 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

THE  Heidelberg  Catechism,  through  the  writings  of  Dr.  Xevin, 
had  been  elevated  to  a  degree  of  respect  and  honor  which  it  had 
never  enjoyed  before  in  the  Reformed  Church,  especiall}-  in  the 
minds  of  his  students.  In  the  year  185V,  Dr.  Ilenr^-  Ilarbaugh,  re- 
ferring to  it  in  one  of  his  books,  therefore  suggested  that  the  three 
liundredth  anniversary  of  its  introduction  into  the  churches  and 
schools  of  the  Palatinate,  German}- — Januar}-  19,  1563 — should  in 
some  proper  way  be  celebrated  in  this  countr}'  by  all  those  who 
had  been  instructed  out  of  its  form  of  sound  words.  At  a  meeting 
of  the  Mercersburg  Classis,  in  1859,  Dr.  Schaff  ottered  several  reso- 
lutions which  were  adopted,  one  that  the  S3mod  be  requested  to  take 
the  necessary  steps  towards  a  proper  celebration  in  the  3'ear  1863,  of 
the  Third  Centennial  of  the  formation  and  adoption  of  the  Heidel- 
berg Catechism  in  Germany ;  another,  that  the  S3nod  should  order 
the  preparation  of  a  critical  standard  edition  of  the  Catechism  in 
the  original  German  and  Latin  with  a  revised  English  translation 
and  an  Historical  Introduction,  to  be  published  in  superior  style 
as  a  Centennial  Edition  in  1863.  These  reqnests  were  granted  and 
the  Tri-centennial  was  held  in  the  Race  Street  Reformed  Church  in 
Philadelphia,  one  of  the  oldest  in  the  denomination.  The  Conven- 
tion mot  on  Friday  evening,  January  nth,and  continued  in  session 
for  a  whole  week,  until  Friday  evening,  January  24th.  Dr.  Xevin  - 
presided  at  this  meeting  with  dignity,  and  ever3bod3'  was  pleased 
to  see  liim  in  the  chair. 

During  the  three  dail}'  sessions,  valuable  papers,  referring  to  the 
history,  spirit  or  doctrines  of  the  Catechism,  prepared,  for  the  occa- 
sion by  a  number  of  theologians  in  German3'  and  in  this  country, 
were  read  and  discussed.  Those  from  Dr.  Hundeshagen,  Profes- 
sor in  Heidelberg  Universit3',  from  Dr.  Ilerzog  of  Erlangen,  from 
Dr.  Ebrard  of  Erlangen,  from  Dr.  Ullman  of  Carlsruhe,  and  from 
Dr.  Schotel  of  Le3den  in  the  Netherlands,  added  much  interest  to 
the  occasion  and  were  listened  to  with  the  closest  attention  bv 
crowded  andiences  from  the  cit}^  and  all  parts  of  the  countrv.  In 
connection  with  these,  essa3's  were  also  read  by  the  following  minis- 
ters of  the  Church  in  this  countr3-:  B.  S.  Schneck,  T.  C.  Porter,  II. 
Ilarbaugh,  Theodore  Appel,  Thomas  G.  Appel,  M.  Kieffer.  E.  \. 
Gerhart.  G.  R.  Russell,  D.  Gans,  B.  Bausman.  J.  H.  A.  Bomberger, 

(605) 


606  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

B.  C.  Wolff,  and  Thomas  De  Witt  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church. 
They  were  afterwards  published  both  iu  the  English  and  German 
languages  in  an  octavo  of  nearlj^  six  hundred  pages,  under  the 
title:  The  Tercentenari/  Monument ; — a  work  of  permanent  value 
in  the  literature  of  the  Catechism.  The  occasion  was  one  of  more 
than  ordinary  interest,  where  friend  held  fellowship  with  friend  and 
the  communion  here  on  earth  seemed  to  be  complete.  The  general 
feeling  was  thus  expressed  b}"  one  of  the  speakers  at  the  closing 
meeting  : 

"  3/r,  President. — Xo  doubt  I  express  the  general  impression  of 
this  Convention  when  I  sa^^  that  we  have  been  instructed  and  edi- 
fied during  the  past  week.  It  has  been  to  us  truly  a  season  of  re- 
freshing and  revival.  For  the  time  being,  we  have  not  felt  that  our 
country  has  been  in  a  state  of  civil  war.  Our  thoughts  have  turned 
away  from  scenes  of  carnage,  and  gone  back  to  those  bright  periods 
of  history  in  which  the  best  and  most  cherished  institutions  of 
modern  times  took  their  rise.  We  have  visited  the  Fatherland,  and 
communed  with  the  spirits  of  Zwingli,  Luther,  Calvin,  Melanch- 
thon,  Frederick  the  Pious  and  a  host  of  others,  that  made  their 
age  luminous  with  their  piet3'  and  good  deeds.  In  such  society  as 
this,  we  have  been  enabled  to  exclude  from  our  minds,  for  a  brief 
while,  the  scenes  of  the  stormy  and  tempestous  present.  For  this 
we  are  thankful  to  God,  the  Giver  of  every  good  and  perfect  gift. 
— Having  communed  with  the  past,  Mr.  President,  it  might  be 
profitable,  if  we  had  time,  to  look  forward  into  the  future.  On 
this  occasion  we  stand  on  elevated  ground,  upon  which  light  both 
from  the  past  and  the  future  is  shed.  Long  before  another  celebra- 
tion like  this  comes  around  we  will  have  finished  our  work  here  on 
earth,  and  our  names  will  be  forgotten  or  remembered  onl}^  as  they 
appear  on  the  Minutes  of  the  S3'nod.  From  this  eminence  we  may 
cast  a  glance  into  the  future  and  already  hear  the  footsteps  of  those 
who  shall  come  after  us  and  take  our  places  in  the  Church  of  God. 
We  could  wish  that  such  occasions  might  occur  oftener  in  the 
Church.  But  the  time  has  come  for  us  to  part ;  and  to  give  these 
remarks  a  practical  bearing,  and  with  the  "^iew  of  perpetuating  the 
historical  feeling  here  awakened,  I  propose  that  a  committee  be 
appointed  to  consider  the  importance  and  propriety  of  establish- 
ing an  Historical  Society  in  the  German  Reformed  Church,  to  re- 
port at  the  next  meeting  of  the  Synod." — The  Committee  was 
appointed  and  in  due  season  the  Societ^^  was  formed. 

The  new  polyglot  edition  of  the  Heidelberg  Catechism  published 
by  Mr.  Charles  Scribner,  of  New  York,  appeared  in  the  fall  of  this 


ClIAP.  XL  VI]  TKRCENTENAKY    CELEBRATION  GO? 

memorial  3e:ir  nnder  the  following  title:  The  Heidelberg  Cate- 
chism in  German^  Latin  and  Engliah^ioith  an  Histoj'ical  Introduc- 
tion. The  Historical  Introduction  prepared  b^'  Dr.  Xevin,  occupied 
119  out  of  the  277  pages  of  the  book,  and  as  an  historical  mono- 
graph possesses  a  permanent  and  sterling  value. — The  Committee 
upon  whom  it  devolved  to  prepare  this  valuable  contribution  to  the 
literature  of  the  Church  consisted  of  the  following  members:  Dr. 
E.  Y.  Gerhart,  Dr.  John  W.  Nevin,  Dr.  Henry  Harbaugh,  Dr.  John 
S.  Kessler,  Dr.  Daniel  Zacharias,  and  the  Elders,  William  ne3ser, 
Rudolph  F.  Kelker,  and  Lewis  H.  Steiner,  M.  D. 

During  the  Convention  on  Sunday  forenoon  the  IIol}'  Sacrament 
was  administered  to  a  large  body  of  communicants,  on  which  oc- 
casion an  appropriate  sermon  was  preached  by  Dr.  Nevin  on  the 
"L'^ndying  Life  in  Christ,"  from  the  words:  Jesus  Christ ^the  same 
yesterday,  and  to-day,  and  forever.  Heb.  13:  8.  The  discourse 
was  of  a  remarkable  character,  one  of  the  crowning  features  of  this 
tercentenar}-  commemoration,  and  we  therefore  place  it  before  our 
readers  just  as  it  was  delivered. 

The  text  looks  immediatel}'  to  wiiat  goes  before,  though  not  just 
in  the  way  implied  by  our  common  English  version.  This  seems 
to  refer  the  previous  exhortation  to  the  example  of  those  who  were 
still  living,  as  teachers  and  rulers  in  the  Chnrch,  and  whose  life  is 
there  characterized  as  having  its  aim  or  end  in  Christ,  who  is  al- 
ways the  same.  But  the  reference  in  the  original  is  plainl}'  not  to 
these,  but  to  former  teachers  and  rulers — among  them  the  blessed 
martyrs  Stephen  and  James — men  who  had  continued  steadfast  in 
their  faith  to  the  last,  and  were  now  gone  to  inherit  its  rewards; 
so  that  it  would  give  the  meaning  better  to  sa}' :  "  Remember  them 
which  have  had  the  rule  over  you;  who  have  spoken  unto  you  the 
word  of  God;  whose  faith  follow,  considering  the  issue  of  their 
conversation  or  life;"  that  is,  fixing  your  attention  on  the  fact  that 
thej'  held  the  beginning  of  their  confidence  steadfast  unto  the  end. 
Then  it  follows  as  an  independent  proposition:  "Jesus  Christ  is 
the  same  yesterday,  and  to-day,  and  forever,"  the  full  meaning  of 
wiiich,  ill  its  relation  to  the  afiecting  exhortation  going  before,  can 
be  more  easily  felt  than  expressed,  while  it  becomes  the  occasion 
at  once  also  for  the  solemn  caution  in  the  next  verse :  "  Be  not 
carried  about  with  divers  and  strange  doctrines."  The  force  of  it 
in  both  directions  will  come  more  fully  into  view  as  we  go  on  to 
consider  now  the  great  subject  itself  which  it  offers  to  our  contem- 
l)l:ilion — the  sameness,  constancy ,  and  abiding  per x)etuity  of  Christ, 


608  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

in  contrast  with  the  mutability  and  vanity  of  the  world  in  every 
other  vie IV. 

We  sa,}^,  of  the  world  in  eveiy  other  view;  because  it  is  as  belong- 
ing to  the  world,  and  forming  part  of  its  life,  that  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  is  here  exhibited  for  our  consideration.  It  is,  indeed,  only 
in  virtue  of  His  divine  nature  that  He  possesses  the  "power  of  an 
endless  life,"  to  such  extent  as  to  be  the  same  yesterda3%  to-day, 
and  forever;  but  still  it  is  not  of  His  divinit}^  separately  considered 
that  the  text  must  be  understood  to  speak,  but  of  His  divinity 
rather  as  joined  with  His  humanit}^  in  the  constitution  of  His 
Mediatorial  Person,  through  which  He  became  joined  at  the  same 
time  with  our  general  human  existence,  and  incorporated  thus  into 
the  life  and  being  of  the  world.  It  is  not  of  the  Word,  as  "  the 
same  was  in  the  beginning  with  God,"  that  this  declaration  of  un- 
changing sameness  is  made,  but  of  the  Word  made  flenh  ;  not  of 
the  Son  of  God,  considered  simpl}^  in  His  eternal  generation,  as 
born  of  the  Father  before  all  time — "  by  whom  also  He  made  the 
worlds" — but  of  the  Son  of  God,  born  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  by  the 
power  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  into  the  very  bosom  of  His  own  creation, 
so  as  to  become  the  deepest  principle  of  its  history-  through  all 
time.  It  is  the  Man,  Christ  Jesus,  who,  in  the  midst  of  this  ever- 
rolling,  ever-changing  system  of  things  which  we  call  the  world, 
stands  forth  sublimely  to  the  gazing  admiration  of  faith  as  "the 
same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  foreA^er." 

The  genei'al  relation  which  Christ  holds  to  the  world  in  this  view 
is  twofold.  He  is  in  Himself  what  the  world  is  not,  and  has  no 
power  ever  to  be  aside  from  His  person ;  but  He  is  this,  at  the  same 
time,  not  for  Himself  simply,  but  for  the  world  also,  which  is  thus 
brought  to  find  in  Him  its  own  last  end  and  onl}^  perfect  sense. 
What  is  a  relation  thus  of  opposition  and  contrast,  in  one  view, 
becomes  everywhere,  in  another  view,  a  relation  at  the  same  time 
of  inward  correspondence  and  agreement.  Both  aspects  of  the 
case  must  be  taken  together,  to  make  our  apprehension  of  it  in  any 
way  complete. 

I.  There  is  such  a  relation  of  opposition  and  correspondence,  in 
the  first  place,  between  Christ  and  the  world  regarded  as  a  mere 
system  of  nature.  This  is  the  nearest  and  most  immediate  view 
we  can  take  of  the  general  sense  of  the  text. 

It  belongs  to  the  very  idea  of  what  we  call  nature,  that  it  should 
be  subject  everywhere  to  fluctuation  and  change.  Things  in  this 
form  are  not  what  they  are,  b}^  standing  still,  but  by  being  rather 
in  a  perpetual  flow.     They  come  and  go,  appear  and  disappear,  con- 


Chap.  XLVI]         the  undying  life  in  christ  609 

tinually,  in  tla-  same  instant;  and  sncli  stal)ility  as  tliey  may  seem 
to  have  in  any  case  is  never  the  sameness  exactiv  of  the  same 
things,  but  the  same  show  only  of  different  things  that  follow  each 
other  in  restless  succession.  Such  constancy  as  the  world  has  in 
this  form  is  its  inconstancy.  Its  very  being,  we  may  say,  is  an 
everlasting  ceasing  to  l)e  :  like  the  image  thrown  from  the  face  of 
a  mirror,  which  holds  only  in  the  vanishing  process  of  its  own  per- 
petual reproduction,  through  each  following  moment  of  its  appar- 
ent duration. 

In  this  broad  view,  the  fleeting,  transitory  character  of  the  world 
is  not  simply  represented  to  us  in  the  more  outward,  palpable 
changes  that  are  always  taking  place  in  the  course  of  nature.  These 
indeed  are  fraught  with  lessons  of  wisdom  on  the  subject,  which 
only  the  most  careless  can  fail  to  consider  and  lay  to  heart.  The 
rolling  seasons  and  circling  ^-ears  are  here  full  of  instruction. 
Flowing  brooks  and  changing  forests,  the  flowers  of  spring  and  the 
colored  leaves  of  autumn,  all  have  a  voice  to  remind  us  that  the 
"  fashion  of  this  world  passeth  away."  All  around  us,  and  all 
Avithin  us,  viewed  in  such  merely  physical  light,  is  adapted  to  force 
home  upon  us  the  thought  that  the  world  of  nature  is  vain,  and  our 
own  life,  as  comprehended  in  it,  all  the  while  hastening  to  an  end. 
It  is  a  perpetual  round  throughout  of  repetition  and  change,  in 
which  the  whole  creation  maj-  be  heard  falling  in  with  that  old 
burden  of  the  Preacher:  "Yanitj^  of  vanities;  vanit}'  of  vanities; 
all  is  vanity."  But  it  is  not  simply  in  these  outward  changes  of 
form  and  state,  we  say,  that  the  unsubstantial,  unabiding  character 
of  the  world,  as  we  now  have  it  under  consideration,  challenges  our 
most  thoughtful  regard.  For  an  eai-nestly  reflecting  mind,  it  is 
something  which  is  felt  to  reach  far  be3ond  such  appearances,  and 
to  enter  into  the  universal  constitution  of  nature  itself. 

As  compared  with  its  more  ephemeral  forms  of  existence,  we 
sometimes  tiiink  of  the  earth  itself  as  abiding  forever,  and  talk  of 
its  everlasting  hills  and  mountains  and  seas;  but  in  truth  there  is 
no  room,  philosophically  speaking,  for  any  such  distinction  as  this; 
and  when  we  are  brought  to  commune  more  closely  with  the  life  of 
nature,  we  are  made  to  feel  that  it  carries  with  it  really  no  force. 
The  clouds  are  no  more  fleeting  in  their  substance  than  the  rocks; 
the  flowers  are  of  no  more  evanescent  constitution  than  the  ever- 
lasting hills.  Nay,  it  is  in  the  contemplation  i)recisely  of  tiiese  ap- 
parently enduring  forms  of  creation,  that  the  deeply  meditative 
spirit  comes  to  its  most  overwhelming  and  affecting  sense  of  the 
emptiness  and  nothingness  of  the  world  in  itself  considered;  since 


610  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

the  more  we  consider  them  the  more  all  are  felt  to  be  apparitional 
only,  phenomenal  merely-,  and  not  substantial;  signs  and  shadows, 
which  have  their  proper  truth  not  so  much  in  themselves  as  in  things 
that  lie  beyond  them  in  another  order  of  existence  altogether. 

In  this  view  it  is  that  the  visible  earth  and  heavens  are  so  fre- 
quently employed,  in  the  .Old  Testament,  to  represent,  in  the  wa}"- 
of  contrast,  the  eternal  and  immutable  nature  of  God.  "  Before  the 
mountains  were  brought  forth,"  saj-s  the  Psalmist,  "  or  ever  Thou 
hadst  formed  the  earth  and  the  world,  even  from  everlasting  to  ever- 
lasting. Thou  art  Go,d."  All  sink  into  insignificance  before  Him, 
and  become  as  nothing  over  against  His  power.  "B}'  the  word  of 
the  Lord  were  the  heavens  made,  and  all  the  host  of  them  by  the 
breath  of  His  mouth."  In  all  their  visible  grandeur  they  are  but 
the  outward  manifestation  of  His  invisible  will,  to  which  they  owe 
their  being  every  moment,  and  which  is  something  infinitel3'  greater 
and  more  enduring  than  themselves.  "Lift  up  your  eyes  to  the 
heavens,"  God  says  b^-  the  Prophet,  "and  look  upon  the  earth  be- 
neath; for  the  heavens  shall  vanish  away  like  smoke,  and  the  earth 
shall  wax  old  like  a  garment,  and  they  that  dwell  therein  shall  die 
in  like  manner ;  but  my  salvation  shall  be  forever,  and  m^'  righteous- 
ness shall  not  be  abolished."  And  again,  more  generally:  "All 
flesh  is  grass,  and  all  the  goodliness  thereof  as  the  flower  of  the 
field:  the  grass  withereth,  the  flower  fadeth;  because  the  Spirit  of 
the  Lord  bloweth  upon  it:  surel}'  the  people  is  grass.  The  grass 
withereth,  the  flower  fadeth;  but  the  word  of  our  God  shall  stand 
forever." 

But  the  word  of  the  Lord,  which  is  opposed  in  this  way  to  the 
transitoriness  of  the  world,  is  nothing  less,  in  the  end,  according  to 
St.  Peter  (1  Pet.  i.  25),  than  the  word  of  the  Gospel  itself;  and  in 
this  character  again  it  is,  as  we  know,  no  outward  declaration  or 
command  simply  proceeding  from  Jehovah,  but  the  personal  Word, 
the  divine  Logos,  which  in  the  fulness  of  time  became  man  for  us 
men  and  for  our  salvation,  in  the  person  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ.  "All  things  were  made  by  Him,"  we  are  told,  "and 
without  Him  was  not  any  thing  made  that  is  made ; "  and  so  of 
Christ  Himself  it  is  said,  with  reference  to  what  He  was  for  the 
world  thus  before  He  became  man :  "  He  is  the  first-born  of  every 
creature;  for  by  Him  were  all  things  created  that  are  in  heaven  and 
that  are  in  earth,  visible  and  invisible,  whether  they  be  thrones,  or 
dominions,  or  principalities,  or  powers;  all  things  were  created  by 
Him,  and  for  Him;  and  He  is  before  all  things,  and  bj-  Him  all 
things  consist." 


Chap.  XLYI]         the  undying  life  in  christ  611 

We  need  not  he  surprised,  then,  to  find  the  full  force  of  this  re- 
lation ascribed  in  the  New  Testament  to  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ, 
the  Incarnate  Son  of  God,  in  the  A'ery  same  terms  that  are  used  to 
represent  it  in  the  Old  Testament  as  holding  of  the  infinite  Jehovah 
Himself.  What  He  was  for  the  world  before  He  became  man,  the 
fountain  of  its  life,  the  foundation  of  its  being,  that  He  continued 
to  be  also  after  He  became  man ;  the  work  of  the  new  creation 
taking  up  into  itself  in  this  way  the  work  of  the  old  creation,  so  as 
to  be  only  the  fulfilment,  in  a  higher  sphere,  of  its  original  purpose 
and  sense.  Because  He  was  tlie  first-born  of  the  natural  creation 
thus  (Col.  i.  15-18),  He  became  also  the  "beginning,  the  first-born 
from  the  dead,"  the  principle  of  the  resurrection  ;  because  all  things 
were  made  by  Him,  and  for  Him,  He  became  also  the  head  of  His 
body,  the  Church,  '-that  in  all  things  He  might  have  the  pre-emi- 
nence." It  is  as  the  Maker  of  the  worlds,  upholding  all  things  by 
the  word  of  His  power  (Heb.  i.  2-3),  that,  after  He  had  by  Himself 
purged  our  sins,  He  sat  down  on  the  right"  hand  of  the  Majesty  on 
high.  In  which  view  also  the  sacred  Avriter  does  not  hesitate  to 
apply  to  Him  (Heb.  i.  8-12)  snch  strong  language  as  this:  ''Thy 
throne,  0  God,  is  for  ever  and  ever.  Thou,  Lord,  in  the  beginning 
hast  laid  the  foundation  of  the  earth;  and  the  heavens  are  the  work 
of  Thy  hands.  They  shall  perish,  but  Thou  remainest;  and  they 
all  shall  wax  old  as  doth  a  garment;  and  as  a  vesture  shalt  Thou 
fold  them  up,  and  they  shall  be  changed :  but  Thou  art  the  same, 
and  Thy  years  shall  not  lail."  So,  after  His  resurrection,  we  hear 
Him  proclaiming  Himself  to  St.  John  in  the  vision  of  Patraos :  "I 
am  Ali)ha  and  Omega,  the  beginning  and  the  end,  which  is,  and 
which  was.  and  Avhich  is  to  come,  the  Almighty." 

Thus  is  Christ  in  His  human  character  itself— the  Son  of  Man, 
who  is  at  the  same  time  the  Son  of  God— over  against  the  whole 
woi-ld  of  nature  in  every  other  view,  the  same  yesterday,  to-day, 
and  forever.  The  ages  come  together  in  His  person.  He  is  liefore 
nil  things,  and  by  Him  all  things  consist.  They  change,  but  He 
remains  in  the  midst  of  them  always  the  same  ;  for  through  all 
their  changes  He  lives  and  works,  upholding  them  by  the  word  of 
His  i)ower.  Their  mutability  serves,  in  this  way,  to  enforce  the 
thought  of  His  abiding  constancy;  their  vanity  points  continually 
to  the  fulness  of  immortal  life  in  His  person.  But  the  relation  is 
not  one  of  mere  outward  comparison  and  opposition.  As  thus 
difiercnt  from  the  world,  Christ  is  at  the  same  time,  as  we  have 
seen,  in  the  most  profound  sense  one  with  the  world.  He  is  the 
principle,  the  original  and  fountain,  of  its  wliole  first  creation  ;  and 


612  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DlV.  XI 

in  this  eharncter,  He  has  entered  still  more  deeply  into  its  life 
throngh  the  mystery  of  the  Incarnation,  so  as  to  be  now  the  prin- 
ciple witliin  it  of  all  that  is  comprehended  in  the  idea  of  the  second 
creation. 

In  this  twofold  view,  then,  He  may  be  said  to  redeem  the  world 
from  its  inherent  vanit^^,  and  to  make  over  to  it  the  power  of  His 
own  glorious  immortality.  There  is  such  a  thing,  we  know,  as  the 
glorification  of  nature  itself  through  union  with  His  person,  caus- 
ing it  to  pass  forever  beyond  the  conditions  of  vanity  and  change 
to  which  it  is  subject  in  our  present  state.  The  body  of  Christ 
Himself  was  glorified  in  this  way  when  He  rose  from  the  dead;  the 
bodies  of  His  people,  we  are  told,  shall  hereafter  be  made  glorious 
in  lilve  manner;  and  there  is  to  be  at  the  last,  in  some  way  which 
we  cannot  now  understand,  a  glorification  also  of  the  whole  natural 
creation — new  heavens  and  a  new  earth  (2  Pet.  iii.  13) — resulting 
from  the  victorious  headship  of  Him  who  is  the  Alpha  and  the 
Omega,  the  first  and  the  last,  the  beginning  and  the  ending,  of  its 
universal  being  and  life.  And  may  we  not  see  how  the  assurance 
and  sense  of  all  this  for  faith  must  go  to  inA^est  even  the  world  as 
it  now  stands  with  the  freshness  and  beauty  of  a  new  perennial  life, 
such  as  it  can  never  possibly  have  in  any  other  view?  If  it  be  in 
the  power  of  mere  poetry  and  art,  so  to  raise  the  perishable  forms 
of  nature  into  the  sphere  of  the  ideal  that  they  shall  become  there 
in  a  certain  sense  immortal,  how  much  more  may  it  not  be  possible 
for  religion  to  make  all  things  luminous  with  the  glow  of  a  still 
higher  immortality,  b}-  joining  them  with  the  thought  of  God,  and 
the  undying,  everywhere  present  grace  and  truth  of  Jesus  Christ? 

II.  This  relation  of  Christ  to  the  world,  however,  comes  into 
still  clearer  view  when  we  ascend  from  the  sphere  of  mere  physical 
existence  into  the  sphere  of  humanity  and  history,  where  nature 
shows  itself  joined  with  self-conscious  mind,  and  the  world  stands 
sublimated  to  its  highest  sense  in  the  free  personality  of  man. 

The  mutable,  perishing  character  of  the  world  in  this  superior 
order  of  its  existence  is  adapted  to  aflfect  us  with  a  sense  of  its 
vanity,  far  beyond  all  that  we  feel  in  considering  the  mere  changes 
of  nature.  These  last  are  in  full  harmonj^  with  the  constitution  to 
which  they  belong.  It  lies  in  the  very  conception  of  nature  that 
it  should  be  made  up  of  endless  parts  and  subsist  by  endless  revo- 
lution and  change.  That  is  the  law  of  its  being,  which  shows  it  at 
once  to  be  created  for  something  beyond  itself,  in  whose  presence 
it  is  required  alwaj^s  to  A^anish  and  pass  away.  But  it  belongs  to 
the  conception  of  mind  that  it  should  not  thus  vanish  and  pass 


Chap.  XLYI]         the  undying  life  in  christ  613 

away  ;  that  it  should  bring  unity  into  the  manifold ;  that  it  should 
fix  the  fleeting  forms  of  sense  in  firm  and  stable  duration.  In  the 
spirit  of  man,  past  and  future  are  brought  together  in  the  power 
of  the  present — the  transitoriness  of  time  surmounted  in  the  ap- 
prehension of  the  Infinite.  He  was  made,  we  are  told,  in  the  image 
and  likeness  of  God,  to  be  the  head  of  the  natural  world  and  to 
exercise  lordship  over  it  in  every  lower  view — to  be  in  it  and  of  it 
through  his  bodily  organization, and  3'et  to  be  above  it  at  the  same 
time  through  his  intelligence  and  reason,  disclosing  within  himself 
a  new  and  higher  order  of  life  altogether.  He  was  formed  for  im- 
mortality, and  all  his  powers  and  capacities  point  to  such  glorious 
destination.  In  his  life  the  past  should  not  be  lost  and  left  behind, 
but  should  perpetuate  itself  alwa3^s  in  each  succeeding  portion  of 
.time;  and  there  should  be  for  him,  properl}-  speaking,  no  death. 

For  such  an  existence  as  his,  the  verj-  thought  of  death  is  some- 
thing unnatural,  violent — nothing  less,  in  truth,  than  the  most  tre- 
mendous contradiction.  And,  as  the  life-  of  the  individual  man 
should  be  thus  full  and  enduring,  there  should  be  a  corresponding 
harmony  and  deathless  unity  also  for  the  life  of  the  race.  History 
should  be  but  the  concord  of  ages,  meeting  together  in  the  solution 
of  the  same  grand  problem  of  humanity.  Nation  should  join  hand 
in  hand  with  nation,  and  each  generation  live  itself  forward  con- 
tinually into  the  life  of  the  next,  to  carry  out  and  complete,  in  one 
universal  sense,  the  true  idea  of  a  reign  of  truth  and  righteousness 
upon  the  earth. 

But  how  diflerent  from  all  this,  alas!  do  we  find  to  be  now  the 
actual  state  of  this  higher  human  creation !  Sin  has  entered  into 
the  world,  and  death  by  sin;  and  so  death  has  passed  upon  all  men, 
for  that  all  have  sinned.  That  which  was  formed  to  be  the  region 
of  undying  life  in  the  world's  constitution  has  become  itself  the  re- 
gion of  mortalit}^  and  change;  in  common  with  the  lower  nature 
around  him,  man  is  made  subject  to  a  vanity'  which  was  not  origi- 
nall^'  his  own;  and  it  is  this  subjection  precisely  which,  more  than 
all  else  for  the  contemplative  spirit,  causes  the  whole  world  to 
seem  empty  and  vain.  That  the  grass  should  wither,  and  the  flower 
fade,  is  no  matter  for  sorrowful  surprise;  it  belongs  to  their  nature 
to  come  and  go  in  this  way;  l)ut  that  all  flesh  should  be  lilc  grass, 
and  the  glorious  estate  of  man  as  the  flower  of  the  field — that  may 
well  be  a  cause  for  sadness  and  lamentation. 

That  a  life  formed  for  immortality  should  be  found  continually 
breathing  itself  out  like  a  vapor  that  appeareth  for  a  little  time  and 
then  vanishoth  away ;  that  there  should  be  room  at  all  to  resemble 


614  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

it  in  this  way  to  the  most  evanescent  things  around  us — this  indeed 
is  something  over  the  thought  of  which  it  is  not  unnatural  even  to 
shed  tears  of  grief.  Well  might  the  Psalmist  exclaim :  "  Lord,  malie 
me  to  know  mine  end,  and  the  measure  of  my  days,  what  it  is;  that 
I  may  know  how  frail  I  am.  Behold,  Thou  has  made  my  daA-s  as 
an  handbreath,  and  mine  age  is  as  nothing  before  Thee :  veril}-, 
ever}'-  man  at  his  best  state  is  altogether  vanity.  Surely  ever}-  man 
walketh  in  a  vain  show;  surelj^  they  are  disquieted  in  vain:  he 
heapeth  up  riches,  and  knoweth  not  who  shall  gather  them." 

This  vanit}'  reaches  forth,  at  the  same  time,  into  the  universal 
history  of  the  race.  It  has  made  it  to  be  fragmentary,  disjointed, 
and  to  a  great  extent  fearfully  chaotic.  It  spoils  the  brotherhood 
of  nations,  and  breaks  the  unity  of  ages  and  generations.  Life  is 
carried  forward  from  period  to  period,  it  is  true,  with  some  sort  of 
memory-  and  tradition ;  but  it  is  a  shadowy  bond  at  beet  which  thus 
connects  the  present  with  the  past,  and  such  as  proves  for  the  liv- 
ing in  the  end  only  a  ghostl3'  communion  with  the  dead.  "One 
generation  passeth  away,  and  another  generation  cometh,"  like  the 
leaves  of  the  forest,  or  as  shadows  that  chase  each  other  over  the 
autumnal  plain.  It  is  the  old  wail  of  Moses,  the  man  of  God : 
"  Thou  turnest  man  to  destruction ;  and  sayest.  Return,  ye  children 
of  men.  For  a  thousand  years  in  Thy  sight  are  but  as  yesterday 
when  it  is  past,  and  as  a  watch  in  the  night.  Thou  carriest  them 
away  as  with  a  flood ;  they  are  as  a  sleep :  in  the  morning  they  are 
like  grass  which  groweth  up.  In  the  morning  it  flourisheth,  and 
groweth  up  ;  in  the  evening  it  is  cut  down,  and  withereth."  In  this 
order  of  mere  nature,  those  who  have  gone  before  us  into  the  other 
world  can  be  thought  of  only  as  having  been  gathered  into  Sheol, 
the  land  of  darkness,  forgetfulness,  and  silence;  and  when  it  is 
asked:  "Your  fathers,  where  are  they?  and  the  prophets,  do  they 
live  forever?"  the  one  same  answer  must  ever  be  the  question  itself, 
reverberated  from  the  hollow  sides  of  the  tomb. 

In  contrast,  now,  with  all  this,  Jesus  Christ  stands  out  to  the 
vision  of  faith  as  the  same  yesterdaj',  to-da}^,  and  forever.  He  is 
so  not  simply  as  God,  but  also  as  man.  The  general  vanity  of  the 
race  extends  not  to  His  person.  As  He  was  without  sin  Himself, 
He  could  not  come  under  the  power  of  death  except  by  His  own 
free  cousent ;  and  then  it  was,  as  we  know,  not  that  He  oaight  re- 
main in  the  grave  or  see  corruption,  but  that  death  itself  should 
be  destroj^ed  and  swallowed  up  of  victory,  through  His  glorious 
resurrection.  In  all  the  time  of  His  humiliation  upon  the  earth 
He  could  say:    "Before  Abraham  was,  lam;"  and  now  that  He 


Chap.  XLYI]         the  undying  life  in  ciirist  615 

reigns  exalted  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  it  is  but  the  full  revela- 
tion of  the  majesty  that  lay  hid  in  His  person  in  the  manger  and 
upon  the  cross,  the  bursting  forth  again  of  the  glory  which  He  had 
with  the  Father  before  the  foundation  of  the  world.  His  goings 
forth  are  from  of  old,  from  everlasting ;  and  of  His  kingdom  and 
righteousness  there  shall  be  no  end. 

But  what  we  need  most  to  understand  and  consider  is,  that  in 
all  this  He  is  not  simply  distinguished  from  our  general  human  life 
in  every  other  view,  but  comprehended  in  it  also  in  such  way  as  to 
be  for  it  at  large  what  He  is  for  Himself  His  relation  to  it  in  this 
way  is  more  intimate,  more  profound,  and  more  comprehensive 
than  that  of  its  natural  root  in  the  first  Adam.  He  is  within  it  the 
l)rinciple  and  centre  of  a  new  creation,  in  the  bosom  of  which  the 
power  of  the  old  curse  is  found  to  be  broken,  the  law  of  sin  and 
death  abolished  and  brought  to  an  end.  There  is  no  condemnation 
now  to  them  that  are  in  Christ  Jesus.  They  are  redeemed  from 
the  vanity  of  this  dying  world;  they  have  passed  from  death  unto 
life.  Old  things  for  them  have  passed  away,  and  all  things  have 
become  new.  They  belong  even  here  to  an  economy  or  order  of 
existence  which  transcends  entirely  the  whole  constitution  of  na- 
ture, the  whole  reign  of  Satan,  the  god  of  this  world  ;  in  virtue  of 
which  they  may  be  said  to  be  sharers  'already  of  Christ's  immor- 
tality, as  they  are  destined  also  to  reign  with  Him  hereafter  eter- 
nally in  heaven. 

"  In  Him  was  life,"  we  are  told — life  in  its  fontal,  self-existence 
form;  "and  the  life  became  the  light  of  men  " — was  not  simply  the 
origination  of  their  natural  being,  but  passed  over  into  them  also 
as  the  incorruptible  "word  of  God  which  liveth  and  abideth  for- 
ever." "Because  I  live,"  the  Saviour  says,  "j-e  shall  live  also." 
"Fear  not;  I  am  the  first  and  the  last:  I  am  He  that  liveth,  and 
was  dead;  and,  behold,  I  am  alive  for  evermore,  Amen;  and  have 
the  keys  of  hell  and  of  death."  He  is  not  simply  the  proclaimer 
liere  of  an  outward  doctrine — a  truth  or  fact  holding  beyond  His 
own  person — but  the  actual  destroyer  of  death,  who  thus  brino-s 
life  and  immortality  to  light  by  bringing  them  to  pass,  and  so  caus- 
ing them  to  be  where  otherwise  they  could  have  had  no  place  what- 
ever.    "I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life,"  we  hear  Him  saving 

the  whole  power  and  possibility  of  these  things  for  the  human 
world:  "he  that  believeth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he 
live;  and  whosoever  liveth  and  believeth  in  me  shall  never  die." 

Holding  such  relation  to  the  world,  it  is  easy  to  see  how  Christ 
becomes  for  the  life  of  humanity,  regenerated  in  this  wa^-,  such  a 


I 


016  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

power  of  unity  in  space  and  continuity  in  time  as  it  cannot  possibl}' 
have  under  any  other  form.  As  the  deepest  principle  of  it,  He 
must  be  at  the  same  time  the  most  comprehensive  bond  of  its  organ- 
ization in  every  view. 

The  new  creation  shows  itself  wider,  thus,  than  all  distinctions 
whether  of  nature  or  from  sin,  that  belong  to  the  old.  It  joins  in 
one  the  most  distant  nations  of  the  earth,  and  tunes  into  harmony 
the  physical  differences  and  moral  discords  of  the  whole  human 
race.  "  He  is  our  peace,"  says  St.  Paul;  here  again  not  in  a  merely 
outward  way  as  a  teacher  of  peace,  but  as  being  Himself  such  a  new 
organization  of  our  universal  human  life,  as,  by  carrying  it  bej^ond 
all  these  occasions  of  difference  and  schism  to  its  last  ground  in 
God,  causes  the  sense  of  them  to  be  overwhelmed  by  the  feeling  of 
that  better  and  far  more  gloi'ious  common  existence,  in  the  power 
of  which  they  are  thus  neutralized  and  brought  to  an  end.  "  He 
hath  made  both  one "' — it  is  said  of  the  Gentile  and  the  Jew — having 
abolislied  in  His  flesh  the  enmitj^,  to  make  in  Himself  of  twain  one 
new  man — so  making  peace;  and  came  and  preached  peace  to  3'ou 
which  were  afar  off,  and  to  them  that  were  nigh.  For  through  Him 
we  both  have  an  access  b^^  one  Spirit  unto  the  Father.  So  univer- 
sall}-:  In  Christ  Jesus  "there  is  neither  Jew  nor  Greek,  there  is 
neither  bond  nor  free,  there  is  neither  male  nor  female;  but  Christ 
is  all  and  in  all." 

And  what  He  is  for  all  coexistent  states  and  conditions  of  the 
race  in  this  way,  He  is  also  for  its  successive  generations  in  time. 
As  He  joins  the  nations  together,  so  does  He  bind  the  ages  into 
one ;  imparting  to  them,  as  it  were,  a  simultaneous  being  in  the  unity 
of  His  own  glorious  life. 

So,  even  in  the  Old  Testament,  the  relation  of  tlie  righteous  to 
God  is  represented  as  their  refuge  and  escape  from  the  vanitj'  of 
the  world,  by  which  they  must  otherwise  be  swept  away  as  with  an 
overwhelming  flood.  They  are  housed  in  Him  securely  through 
the  ever-rolling  course  of  years,  according  to  that  grand  declaration 
of  the  ninetieth  Psalm:  "Lord,  Thou  hast  been  our  dwelling-place 
in  all  generations."  Even  in  Sheol  the  patriarchs  are  not  dead; 
have  not  become  a  memory  only  or  a  name;  have  not  vanished  into 
Sadducean  vacuity  and  night.  The}'  live  still,  in  virtue  of  their 
living  union  with  God.  Hence  the  force  of  our  Saviour's  argument : 
"  As  touching  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  have  ye  not  heard  that 
which  was  spoken  unto  you  by  God,  saying,  I  am  the  God  of  Abra- 
ham, and  the  God  of  Isaac,  and  the  God  of  Jacob?  God  is  not  the 
God  of  the  dead,  but  of  the  living." 


Chap.  XLVI]         tiik  tndying  life  in  ciirist  611 

Now,  however,  in  Christ  the  power  of  this  unseen  life  is  made  to 
be  something  far  more  full  and  real  for  believers  than  it  was  before. 
The  Old  Testament  saints  had  their  hidden  abode  in  God,  indeed, 
only  through  Him  as  the  everlasting  Word;  but  it  was  in  anticipa- 
tion alvva_ys  of  what  was  necessar}^  to  make  their  life  in  this  form 
actual  and  complete,  namely,  the  coming  of  Christ  in  the  flesh;  and 
so  stood  in  the  character  of  hope  rather  than  in  that  of  present, 
satisfying  fruition.  "  These  all  died  in  faith,"  we  are  told  (Heb.  xi. 
13,  39,  40),  "not  having  received  the  promises,  but  having  seen 
them  afar  off.  Having  obtained  a  good  report  through  faith,  they 
yet  received  not  the  promise ;^  God  having  provided  some  better 
thing  for  us,  that  they  without  us  should  not  be  made  perfect." 
Abraham  accordingly,  in  that  uncompleted  state,  looked  jo^'fully 
for  the  day  of  Christ  (John  viii.  .5(5);  and  he  saw  it,  and  was  glad. 

But  the  AVord,  which  was  only  coming  before,  has  now  actually 
come;  that  eternal  life  which  was  with  the  Father  has  been  mani- 
fested through  the  mastery  of  the  Incarnation;  and,  being  joined 
to  it  and  made  one  with  it,  by  the  power  of  ftiith,  all  true  Christians 
have  in  it  an  immortality  of  existence  that  reaches  through  all  time. 
They  are  said  to  be  in  Christ;  and  the  life  which  the}-  live  in  the 
flesh  is  not  so  much  their  own  as  that  which  is  lived  into  them, 
through  the  Spirit,  from  His  undying  person.  "We  are  in  Him 
that  is  true,"  saj'S  St.  John,  "even  in  His  Son  Jesus  Christ:  this 
is  the  true  God  and  eternal  life."  To  be  so  taken  up  into  Christ  is 
itself  to  be  taken  out  of  the  vanity  of  this  perishing  world,  and  to 
be  made  superior  to  its  revolutions  and  ages.  In  Christ,  the  dead 
still  continue  to  live.  This  itself — and  no  simply  outward  state  in 
any  other  vieAv,  whether  in  hades  or  heaven — is  the  true  concei)tion 
of  their  immortality.  It  is  such  an  immortalit}',  moreover,  as  in- 
cludes in  it  the  full  power  of  the  resurrection.  "For  if  we  believe 
that  Jesus  died  and  rose  again,  even  so  them  which  sleep  in  Jesus 
will  God  In-ing  with  Him."  Our  life  now,  on  either  side  of  the 
grave,  "is  hid  with  Christ  in  God;  and  when  Christ,  who  is  our 
life,  shall  appear,  then  shall  we  also  appear  with  Ilim  in  glory." 
(Col.  iii.  4.) 

We  believe,  then,  in  the  "communion  of  saints,"  as  reaching  not 
only  to  those  who  yet  live,  but  to  those  also  who  have  died  in  the 
Lord.  When  the  question  is  now  asked:  "Our  fathers,  where  are 
the}'?  and  the  prophets,  do  the}^  live  forever?"  the  answer  is  no 
longer  a  doleful  echo  simply-  sounded  back  upon  us  from  their  tombs, 
but  a  voice  from  heaven  rather,  saying:  "Blessed  are  the  dead 
which  die  in  the  Lord  from  henceforth:  yea,  saith  the  Spirit,  that 
39 


618  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

the}^  may  rest  from  their  labors;  and  their  works  do  follow  them." 
We  will  not  worship  them;  we  may  not  invoke  their  intercession 
and  help,  as  we  might  be  glad  to  do  if  thej^  were  still  with  us  here 
on  the  earth ;  but.neither  will  we  consent  to  think  of  them  as  elysian 
shadows  onl^',  dwelling  be^'ond  the  clouds,  and  in  no  farther  com- 
munication Avith  the  Church  below.  The}'  are  with  us  still,  not  in 
memory  alone — not  as  having  a  mere  fictitious  immortality  in  our 
minds,  through  the  recollection  of  their  words  and  deeds — but  as 
haA'ing  their  common  home  with  us  in  Him  who  is  the  same  yestei'- 
day,  and  to-day,  and  forever.  We  are  come,  in  Him,  to  no  necrop- 
olis simply, no  voiceless  city  of  the  dead;  but  "unto  the  city  of  the 
living  God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to  an  innumerable  com- 
pany of  angels;  to  the  General  Assembly  and  Church  of  the  first- 
born, which  are  written  in  heaven,  and  to  God  the  Judge  of  all,  and  . 
to  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect." 

We  join  in  waking,  active  worship,  around  the  throne  of  God, 
with  the  glorious  company  of  the  apostles,  the  goodl}'  fellowship 
of  the  prophets,  and  the  noble  army  of  martyrs,  as  well  as  with  the 
hoi}'  Church  throughout  all  the  world.  And,  at  this  time  especi- 
ally, may  we  not  be  allowed  to  sa}'  that  we  join  in  worship  also 
with  the  founders  and  spiritual  heroes  of  our  own  Reformed  Zion, 
the  end  of  whose  conversation  we  are  now  called  upon  to  consider, 
that  we  may  be  stirred  up  afresh  to  follow  their  ftxith  ?  Is  it  too 
bold  a  thought,  that  in  the  midst  at  least  of  that  "great  cloud  of 
witnesses "  with  which  we  are  surrounded  from  all  ages  in  the 
heavenly  world,  the  spirits  also  of  such  men  as  Luther  and  Zwingli, 
the  stern  Calvin  and  the  meek  Melanchthon,  Olevianus  and  Ursinus, 
and  that  great  and  good  prince  whose  name  still  lives  for  us  em- 
balmed and  enshrined  in  the  Heidelberg  Catechism  as  Frederick 
the  Pious,  may  even  now  be  looking  down  upon  us  with  kindred 
sympathy  and  delight,  and  taking  part  in  these  devotional  solem- 
nities as  their  own  ?  What  is  the  narrow  chasm  of  three  hundred 
years  for  the  Spirit  of  Jesus  Christ,  whose  wonder-working  prov- 
ince it  is  to  overcome  all  separations  both  in  time  and  space  ? 
What  are  whole  centuries  of  death,  in  Him  who  is  the  true  Life ; 
the  Alpha  and  Omega  of  God's  creation;  the  vanquisher  of  the 
curse  that  lay  upon  the  world  through  sin  ;  who  holds  in  His  hand 
now  the  keys  of  hades  and  the  grave;  and  in  whom,  thus  risen 
from  the  dead  and  made  head  over  all  things  to  the  Church,  His 
saints  have  their  common  habitation  and  home  through  all  gener- 
ations ? 

III.  Once  more:  Jesus  Christ  is  the  same  3-esterda3', to-day, and 


Chap.  XLYI]         the  undying  life  in  christ  019 

forever,  as  being  the  aht^olute  fountain  of  all  truth  and  7-eason  for 
men,  so  that  there  can  be  neither  certainty  nor  stability  in  the  in- 
tellectual world,  under  any  view,  except  as  it  is  ruled,  ordered,  and 
actuated  eveiywhere  from  His  presence  and  by  His  Spirit. 

So  much  lies  at  once  in  the  character  which  belongs  to  Him  as 
the  everlasting  Word.  He  is,  in  this  view,  as  we  have  alread}'  seen, 
the  beginning  or  principle,  and  so  of  course  the  universal  reason 
also,  of  the  whole  creation.  He  is  the  thought  of  (xod,  which  finds 
utterance  in  the  general  constitution  of  the  world  ;  and  He  is  the 
source  at  the  same  time  of  all  the  power  of  thinking  in  a  created 
form,  by  which  it  is  possible  for  this  thought  to  be  in  any  measure 
perceived  or  understood.  It  enters  into  the  very  conception,  how- 
ever, of  all  such  created  and  dependent  reason,  that  it  should  be  in 
itself  liable  to  error,  and  so  exposed  to  variation  and  change ;  and 
this  is  a  liability  which,  in  such  a  world  as  ours,  must  necessarily 
run  into  all  sorts  of  actual  aberration  and  lapse  from  the  truth. 
To  these  imperfections  and  disorders,  then,  whether  proceeding 
from  the  weakness  of  nature  or  the  power  of  sin,  Christ  stands 
opposed  as  the  original,  independent  Logos,  with  whom  there  is 
"  no  variableness  nor  shadow  of  turning ; "  while  He  offers  Himself 
to  us,  at  the  same  time,  as  being  here  again  the  only  proper  and 
sufficient  complement  of  our  wants,  and  the  i)rinciple  of  all  true 
light  within  us,  both  for  this  world  and  for  that  which  is  to  come. 

This  vunit}'  of  our  intellectual  and  moral  life  is,  of  all  vanities  to 
which  Ave  are  subject,  in  some  respects  the  most  mournful  and  sad; 
for  it  meets  us  just  where  we  know  there  ought  to  be  solid  and 
stable  duration — namely,  in  the  region  of  ideas,  whose  very  oflilce 
it  is  to  surmount  the  fleeting  forms  of  sense,  and  to  hand  themselves 
forward  in  spiritual  force  from  one  generation  to  another.  We  find 
ourselves  confronted  with  it,  however,  from  all  sides,  through  every 
age  of  the  world.  The  thinking  of  men,  even  more  than  their  out- 
ward working  and  walking,  has  been  for  the  most  part  only  what 
the  Psalmist  calls  a  vain  show. 

Even  in  the  sphere  of  Christianity  itself,  we  find  no  end  to  the 
differences  and  flowing  changes  of  human  thought.  This  is  owing 
largely,  of  course,  to  the  blinding  and  corrupting  influence  of  sin; 
but  it  is  the  result  in  part  also  of  what  we  may  style  the  necessary 
limitations  of  our  nature  itself,  making  it  impossible  for  us  to  see 
truth  by  ourselves  in  an  absolute  and  universal  way.  Our  i)arti('ular 
thinking  is  comprehended  always  in  the  more  general  thinking  which 
surrouufls  us;  and  this,  again,  moves  and  changes  from  one  age  to 
another,  according  to  the  general   law  of  our  liiiinMn  life.     For  our 


620  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-187G  [DiV.  XI 

present  state,  in  this  wa^^,  it  would  seem  that  there  can  be  no  abso- 
lutel}'  stationary  ap])rehension  even  of  Christian  doctrine  itself; 
since  to  be  stationary-  is  to  be  dead,  and  onl^-  that  which  moves  has 
life.  We  know  it  to  be  a  foct,  at  all  events,  that  Christianity,  from 
the  beginning,  has  been  a  world  of  thought  ever  in  motion,  whose 
uniformit}'  and  continuance  have  been  maintained  onh-  through 
vast  oppositions  and  never-ceasing  changes  of  form  and  aspect. 
The  same  truths  have  turned  themselves  in  new  phases  to  the  con- 
templation of  the  world,  age  after  age.  Doctrines  have  had  their 
history;  confessions,  their  appointed  times  and  spheres;  churches, 
their  different  tasks  and  successive  missions.  All  has  come  down 
to  us  through  perpetual  commotion  and  change. 

But,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  fluctuation,  Christ  Himself,  the  foun- 
tain of  Christianit}',  remains  ever  the  same.  Even  the  change  from 
the  Old  Testament  to  the  New,  A^ast  revolution  as  it  was,  changed 
not  the  identit}^  of  Him  who  was  equally  the  soul  and  the  life  of 
both.  After  His  Incarnation,  He  was  still  the  angel  which  had 
been  with  the  Jewish  Church  before  in  the  wilderness;  and  for 
eighteen  centuries,  now,  He  has  never  forgotten  for  a  moment  His 
promise  to  be  in  the  midst  of  the  Church  in  its  Christian  form, 
through  all  ages,  on  to  the  end  of  the  world.  In  this  view.  He  is 
not  simpl}-  one  in  Himself,  over  against  the  manifold  and  the  suc- 
cessive, as  exhibited  in  the  historical  movement  of  Christianity  be- 
3^ond  His  own  person;  but  He  is  one  also  for  what  is  thus  outside 
of  Himself,  a  principle  of  unity  for  the  Church,  and  the  power  that 
binds  and  holds  it  together  in  true  Catholic  wholeness  through  all 
ages;  making  it  to  be  stillj-dn  spite  of  all  partial  and  temporary  dis- 
cords, the  home  of  His  Spirit,  and  as  such,  for  the  world  at  large, 
the  only  "pillar  and  ground  of  the  truth." 

Standing  in  this  universal  sameness  of  Jesus  Christ,  then,  we  will 
not  desire  on  the  present  occasion  to  limit  and  bound  our  Christian 
sympathies  by  any  merely  partial  ecclesiastical  lines.  Our  Tereen- 
tenar}'  Jubilee  is  indeed,  in  one  sense,  a  denominational  festival, 
which  has  for  its  object  the  new  intonation  of  our  old  denomina- 
tional history  and  life.  We  believe  that  the  Reformed  Church  had 
a  A'ocation  to  be,  and  to  speak  forth  the  confessional  word  that  was 
in  her  at  the  beginning ;  and  we  cannot  see  that  the  time  has  come 
for  this  word  to  be  either  withdrawn  or  hushed  into  indiflferent 
silence.  Rather  it  seems  to  us,  that  if  Protestantism  itself  be  still 
necessary,  then  must  it  be  for  the  interest  of  Protestantism,  and  so 
of  universal  Christianit3-  also,  that  the  great  issues  by  which  it  was 
divided  within  itself  at  the  first,  should  not  now  be  thus  passiA'eh' 


Chap.  XLYI]         the  undying  life  in  chkist  621 

surrendered  and  given  up;  but  that  they  shouhl  be  rather  so  main- 
tained still,  as  to  eomi)el,  if  possible,  their  conciliation  and  settle- 
ment in  a  trul}'  inward'  wa^-. 

Only  so  can  Ave  hope  for  the  catholicity  or  wholeness  of  positive 
faith  in  distinction  from  the  pseudo-catholicity  of  merely  negative 
and  hollow  unbelief.  We  are,  therefore,  still  Reformed,  and  we 
may  add  also  German  Reformed.  We  gloiy,  as  of  old,  in  the 
Heidelberg  Catechism,  and  we  are  here  met  to  festoon  with  wreaths 
of  evergreen  the  memor}'  of  the  fathers  to  whom  we  stand  indebted 
for  its  origin  and  birth  three  hundred  3'ears  ago.  All  this  we  will- 
iugly  confess.  But  God  forbid  that  we  should  do  this  now  in  any 
spirit  of  mere  sectarian  bigotrj-  and  exclusiveness,  or  that  we  should 
so  hold  our  feast  as  to  nourish  and  strengthen  in  ourselves  the 
feeling  that  we  alone  are  the  Lord's  people,  and  that  beyond  our 
confessional  life  there  is  no  room  to  conceive  either  of  a  true  Chris- 
tianity' or  a  true  Church. 

We  mean  b^'  our  solemnity,  certainly,  no  such  wickednes  and 
folly  as  that.  On  the  contraiy,  we  will  try  to  make  this  commem- 
oration an  occasion  rather  for  cultivating  in  ourselves  the  sense  of 
Christianity  in  its  widest  and  most  universal  form.  We  will  not 
dare  to  make  our  Catechism  the  full  and  whole  measure  of  Christ. 
We  will  not  stop  short  in  our  faith  with  either  Luther  or  Calvin; 
we  will  not  put  our  ecclesiastical  fathers,  whether  in  Switzerland 
or  Germany,  in  the  place  of  Him  who  "holdeth  the  seven  stars  in 
His  right  hand,  and  walketh  in  the  midst  of  the  seven  golden  can- 
dlesticks ;"  and  who  alone  is  the  first  and  the  last,  the  beginning  and 
the  ending,  of  the  new  creation  as  of  the  old,  the  same  yesterda}-, 
to-day,  and  forever.  Through  all  human  confessions,  we  will  look 
to  Him  who  is  before  and  beyond  them  all,  as  the  one  glorious  ob- 
ject of  the  universal  Christian  Creed,  in  union  with  whom  the  Church 
also  remains  always  and  everywhere  one — the  fulness  of  Him  that 
filleth  all  in  all.  This  emphatically  is  that  faith  of  the  fathers  who 
have  gone  before  us,  which  we  are  now  called  upon  and  here  solemn- 
ly pledge  ourselves  to  follow — considering  the  end  of  their  conver- 
sation— in  opposition  to  all  "divers  and  strange  doctrines."  With 
them,  as  with  St.  Peter  of  old,  we  say,  now  and  evermore:  "To 
whom  shall  we  go.  Lord,  but  unto  Thee?  Thou  hast  the  words  of 
eternal  life;  and  we  believe,  and  are  sure,  that  Thou  art  the  Christ, 
the  Son  of  the  Living  God!" 

We  close  with  a  few  general  conclusions  of  vast  practical  ac- 
count, suggested  by  the  whole  subject. 

1.  Jesus  Christ  is  Himself  f he  truth  and  rcnlili/  of  the   Gospel, 


622  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

which  He  came  into  the  world  to  proclaim.  It  is  not  a  message  of 
salvation  simply  published  by  Him  in  an  outward  waj^,  "as  God 
at  sundry  times  and  in  divers  manners  spake  in  times  before  unto 
the  fathers  by  the  prophets:"  it  is  the  revelation  of  redemption 
and  life  for  men  immediately  in  His  own  person.  His  Incarnation 
— the  act  of  His  coming  in  the  flesh — was  itself  redemptive,  and 
ma}'  be  said  to  have  included  in  itself,  from  the  beginning,  all  that 
was  needed  for  the  full  salvation  of  the  world.  It  formed  the  true 
mediation  between  God  and  man,  and  served  to  bridge  over  the 
awful  chasm  which  before  separated  earth  from  heaven.  What  we 
call  the  atonement  in  its  more  special  sense,  as  wrought  out  by  His 
sufferings  and  death,  was  nothing  more,  after  all,  than  the  irresist- 
ible, inevitable  movement  of  the  Incarnation  itself  out  to  its  own 
necessary  end.  Once  in  the  world  as  He  was  in  this  way,  there 
was  for  Him  no  other  outlet  from  the  burden  of  its  curse,  save  that 
which  was  offered  to  Him  by  the  accursed  death  of  the  cross  :  He 
must  suffer  in  order  that  He  might  through  the  resurrection  enter 
into  His  glory.  All,  however,  lay  in  His  being  "born  of  a  woman, 
and  so  made  under  the  law,  to  redeem  them  that  were  under  the 
law,  that  we  might  receive  the  adoption  of  sons."  The  atonement 
and  resurrection  were  but  the  outworking  energy  of  that  eternal 
life,  which  was  manifested  in  Him  when  the  Word  became  flesh. 
His  coming  into  the  world  was  at  once  the  real  bringing  into  it  of 
a  new  order  of  existence,  a  form  of  life  higher  than  all  that  was  in 
the  world  before,  which  then  could  not  remain  bound  to  His  single 
person,  but  was  made  to  flow  forth  from  Him,  through  His  resur- 
rection Spirit,  as  the  power  of  a  new  creation  in  the  Church  also, 
for  the  benefit  of  His  people  through  all  ages. 

This  is  the  true,  distinctive  conception  of  Christianity,  as  we 
have  it  graphically  set  forth  in  the  Apostles'  Creed ;  and  in  this 
sense,  accordingly,  we  sa^^  of  Christianity  that  it  is  made  and  con- 
stituted literally  by  the  constitution  of  Christ's  person  ;  that  it  is 
thus  not  a  doctrine  primarily  nor  a  rule  of  life,  but  a  grand  histor- 
ical fact ;  and  that  He  is  in  such  view  the  root  and  principle  of  it 
from  beginning  to  end.  He  is  not  simply  the  occasion  of  it,  or  the 
cause  of  it,  or  the  origin  and  commencement  of  it  in  the  common 
sense  of  these  terms,  but  He  is,  in  the  very  constitution  of  His 
person  itself,  as  the  "second  Adam  who  is  the  Lord  from  heaven," 
what  we  ma}^  call  the  seminal  or  fontal  source  of  the  universal  new 
creation  in  this  form.  Christianit}'  starts  geneticall}'  from  no  con- 
fession, no  catechism,  no  outward  creed — nay,  with  all  reverence 
be  it  spoken,  not  even  from  the  Bible  itself — but  onl}'  and  alone 


Chap.  XLVI]         the  undying  life  in  ciirist  623 

from  tlijit  bright  Morning  Star,  "the  root  .ind  the  offspring  of 
David,"  of  whom  it  is  said,  "When  Thou  tookest  ui)on  Thee  to 
deliver  man.  Thou  didst  humble  Thyself  to  be  born  of  a  Virgin; 
when  Thou  hadst  overcome  the  sharpness  of  death,  Thou  didst 
open  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  all  believers." 

2.  Trutlt,  thus,  in  its  highest  form  for  man  is  identical  with  life^ 
and  is  something  to  be  reached  and  possessed  onl}'  through  licing 
comnuinication  loith  the  life  of  Christ.  As  the  everlasting  Word, 
He  is  the  source  both  of  the  reason  which  is  in  things  universall}-, 
and  also  of  the  reason  by  which  alone  it  is  possible  for  them  to  be 
understood.  B}^  His  Incarnation,  more  fully  still.  He  is  the  reve- 
lation of  God's  mind  and  will  immediately  in  the  sphere  of  our 
rational  nature  itself.  This  revelation  is  no  outward  shining  simpl}' 
in  the  way  of  precept  or  doctrine,  but  the  light  that  streams  direct!}' 
from  what  He  is  in  His  own  nature  and  being;  and  for  this  reason, 
also,  it  is  not  something  to  be  apprehended  on  the  part  of  men  by 
mere  thought  and  reflection,  but  must  ever  have  for  its  vehicle  into 
their  minds  the  very  power  of  that  heavenly  life  itself  to  which  it 
belongs,  and  apart  from  which,  indeed,  it  has  no  reality-  or  truth 
whatever.  Thus,  it  is  not  the  light  of  Christ  that  is  represented  in 
the  Gospel,  as  communicating  life  to  the  world;  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, "the  life  that  was  in  Him,"  we  are  told  (John  i.  4),  "became 
the  light  of  men."  Hence  we  hear  the  Saviour  Himself  saying:  "  I 
am  the  Light  of  the  world ;  he  tliat  followeth  me — makes  himself 
one  with  the  living  Spirit  of  my  person — shall  not  walk  in  darkness, 
but  shall  have  the  light  of  life."  So  St.  Paul :  "  Ye  were  once  dark- 
ness, but  now  are  ye  light  in  the  Lord."  To  know  Christ  is  to  be 
in  Christ;  to  have  part  in  His  grace  in  any  way,  is  to  have  part  in 
His  personal  being. 

And  hence  it  is  that  all  forms  of  His  grace,  the  benefits  which  He 
accomplishes  for  His  people,  are  spoken  of  so  commonly,  not  as 
outside  gifts  merely,  the  result  of  His  ministerial  teaching  or  work- 
ing, but  as  inhering  actually  in  His  own  life.  "I  am  the  resurrec- 
tion and  the  life; — I  am  the  light  of  the  world; — I  am  the  way,  the 
truth,  and  the  life; — I  am  the  living  bread  which  came  down  from 
heaven;  he  that  belicveth  on  me,  believeth  not  on  me,  but  on  Him 
that  sent  me;  and  he  that  seeth  me  seeth  Him  that  sent  me; — He 
is  our  peace; — He  is  made  of  God  unto  us  wisdom,  and  righteous- 
ness, and  sanetification,  and  redemption."  Such  is  the  characteristic 
tenor  of  this  whole  glorious  Gospel  of  the  blessed  God,  in  speaking 
of  its  own  power  of  salvation  for  the  children  of  men.  All  is  not 
only  from  Christ  and   by  Him,  but  in  Him  and  through  Him  also 


624  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

as  the  first-born  from  the  dead,  "the  beginning  of  the  creation  of 
God"  in  this  new  form.  "God  hath  given  to  us  eternal  life;  and 
this  life  is  in  His  Son." 

3.  Being  in  this  way  the  only  true  light,  the  beginning  and  foun- 
dation of  the  whole  Gospel,  Jesus  Christ  must  be  Himself,  of  course, 
the  great  argument  always  of  the  truth  of  the  Gospel^  and  of  His 
own  presentee  by  meayis  of  it  in  the  icorld.  That  is  the  nature  of 
light:  it  demonstrates  itself  in  demonstrating  other  things  around 
it;  and  so  the  last  proof  of  it  in  the  end  is  onlj'  the  evidence  which 
in  the  first  place  streams  forth  from  itself.  How  shall  au}^  one 
prove  the  existence  of  the  sun,  except  by  what  the  sun  shows  itself 
to  be,  shining  in  the  heavens  and  illuminating  the  whole  natural 
creation  of  God?  So  does  the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  in  this  new 
creation  of  which  we  now  speak,  authenticate  and  declare  itself  to 
be  what  it  is,  b}-  the  very  fulness  of  its  own  indwelling  light,  with 
which  it  floods  and  irradiates  all  other  things.  How  shall  that 
which  is  itself  the  deepest  and  most  comprehensive  manifestation 
of  truth  in  the  world,  be  rendered  clear  and  sure  by  any  demonstra- 
tion from  beyond  itself?  The  self-rcA'Clation  of  God  in  Christ  is 
for  men  the  truth  of  all  truth,  the  light  of  all  light;  and  if  known 
at  all  effectuall}^,  it  must  be  known  in  and  by  Christ  alone.  Here 
emphatically  the  word  holds  good  :  "  In  Thy  light  we  shall  see 
light."  This  is  that  knowledge  of  which  St.  John  speaks:  "We 
knoiv  that  we  are  of  God,  and  the  whole  world  lieth  in  wickedness  : 
we  know  that  the  Son  of  God  is  coiue,  and  hath  given  us  an  under- 
standing, that  we  may  knoiv  Him  that  is  true ;  and  we  are  in  Him 
that  is  true,  in  His  Son,  Jesus  Christ.  This  is  the  true  God  and 
Eternal  Life." 

4.  From  all  this  it  follows  that  the  only  true  and  sure  2vay  of 
Christian  knoxdedge  for  xts,  at  all  times,  is  that  Christological 
method  of  studying  Christ  and  His  Gospel,  which  is  set  before  us  in 
the  old  p)attern  of  the  Apostles''  Creed.  It  must  be  so,  both  for 
practical  purposes  and  for  the  ends  of  theological  science.  The 
art  of  growing  in  grace,  and  in  the  saving  knowledge  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  holds  especially  in  the  habit  of  regarding  His  person 
with  the  steady  contemplation  of  faith ;  for  in  doing  so,  more  than 
in  any  other  way,  our  darkness  is  illuminated,  our  aflfections  are 
purified,  our  will  is  made  strong;  and  beholding  His  glory,  as  the 
Apostle  has  it,  we  are  transformed  into  the  same  image,  from  glory 
to  glory,  as  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord.  But  what  we  wish  just  now 
to  insist  upon  more  especially,  is  the  necessar^^  application  of  the 
same  canon  to  the  science  of  Christian  divinity',  whose  object  it  is 


Chap.  XLYI]         the  undying  life  in  christ  625 

to  expound  and  set  forth  theoretically  the  universal  sense  of  the 
Gospel.  If  Jesus  Christ  be  for  Christianity  what  we  have  now 
seen  that  lie  is,  the  sum  and  sul)stance  personally  of  its  whole 
constitution,  then  is  it  at  once  plain  that  Christianity  never  can  be 
understood  or  preached  to  full  purpose,  except  under  that  histor- 
ical view  in  which  it  is  exhibited  to  us  in  the  actual  movement  of 
His  own  theanthroi)ic  life  and  work. 

Our  theology  can  never  begin  successfully  from  any  other  centre 
than  that  of  the  Incarnation  ;  there  can  be  no  safe  footing  for  our 
speculative  constructions  of  doctrine,  be3^ond  that  which  is  offered 
to  us  immediately  in  the  fact  of  the  hj'postatical  union,  regarded 
as  the  actual  basis  of  the  new  creation  to  which  it  belongs.  What 
is  the  real  principle  of  Christianity'  itself  must  be  for  us  the  real 
principle  also  of  its  Avhole  apprehension  and  representation.  We 
must  think  ourselves  into  it  everywhere,  from  that  living,  concrete 
ground,  or  else  we  shall  have  for  our  thoughts,  in  place  of  it,  a 
metaphysical  abstraction  only,  that  will  not  deserve  to  be  consid- 
ered true  Christian  theology  at  all.  It  will  not  do  to  build  here  on 
any  philosophical  dogma  or  hy])othesis  outside  of  Christ.  It  will 
not  do  to  build,  or  rather  to  dream  of  building,  even  on  the  Scrip- 
tures themselves,  outside  of  Christ ;  for  in  Him  alone  all  the  prom- 
ises of  God  are  Yea  and  Amen  ;  and  it  is  the  very  spirit  of  Anti- 
christ to  say.  that  they  can  ever  be  the  word  of  God  truly  foi*  any 
man's  thought  or  reason,  except  through  the  acknowledged  pres- 
ence of  the  AVord  made  flesh.  The  order  is,  Christ  first,  then  the 
Bi1)le;  and  not  the  Bible  first,  then  Christ.  "On  this  rock,"  our 
Saviour  sa\-s,  in  answer  to  St.  Peter's  memorable  confession,  "  I 
will  build  my  Church  ;  "  and  that  confession,  let  it  be  well  consid- 
ered, is  but  the  germ  of  the  Apostles'  Creed,  as  we  find  it  after- 
wards unfolded  with  necessar}-  development  in  the  ancient  Church. 

And  now,  then,  it  is  no  gain,  w'e  may  be  well  assured,  but  an  im- 
mense loss  rather,  that  this  old  order  of  thought  has  grown  strange 
to  so  much  of  our  modern  theology,  and  that  so  much  of  our  theo- 
logical thinking — and  along  with  this,  unhappily,  so  much  of  our 
pulpit  teaching — has  come  to  move  in  another  construction  of 
Christianity  altogether.  No  one  who  considers  it  properly  can  helj) 
feeling  it  to  be  an  ominous  fact,  that  the  Creed  has  fallen  in  our 
time  so  largely  into  disuse  and  neglect.  It  argues  a  falling  awa^-, 
niKiuestionably,  from  the  old  stand-point  of  Christian  observation 
— which  we  know  at  the  sanie  time  to  be  the  only  one,  if  Christ 
Himself  be  real,  that  can  be  considered  either  true  or  safe.  Let  it 
siid<  deeply  into  our  minds,  bretiircn  in  the  ministry  especially,  that 


b 


626  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

all  right  Christiun  theology,  in  the  A'ery  nature  of  the  case,  must  be 
Christological  theology;  and  that  all  right  Christian  preaching 
must  be  also  Christological  preaching;  and  that,  being  so,  both 
must  be  cast  prevailingh'  in  the  mould  of  the  original  Christian 
Creeds,  which  are  all  here  of  one  signification  and  sense,  since  in 
no  other  form  is  it  possible  to  deal  with  the  facts  of  Christianity 
in  a  truly  Christological  way. 

5.  One  more  thought,  and  I  have  done.  The  end  of  all  Christian 
worship — the  end  of  all  Christianity  for  man — is  lining  felJowship 
and  communion  icith  God  through  His  Son  Jesus  Christ.  What 
we  all  need,  as  we  have  seen,  is  not  just  good  doctrine  for  the  under- 
standing, or  good  direction  for  the  will,  or  good  motives  for  the 
heart,  but  the  power  rather  of  a  new  life,  which,  proceeding  from 
God  and  being  inserted  into  our  fallen  nature,  may  redeem  us  from 
the  vanity  of  this  present  evil  world,  and  make  us  to  be  in  such 
sort  "partakers  of  the  divine  nature"  that  in  the  end  we  may  be 
counted  worthy  to  have  part  also  in  the  resurrection  of  the  dead. 
This  life  w^e  can  never  have  directly  for  ourselves.  God  hath  given 
it  to  us,  we  are  told,  only  in  His  Son;  and  if  we  are  to  have  part 
in  it  at  all,  therefore,  it  can  be  onl}^  in  the  way  of  derivation  from 
His  person.  It  is  plain,  at  the  same  time,  that  this  derivation  can 
never  be  parted  from  its  original  source  in  Christ,  so  as  to  become 
for  any  one  his  own  separate  property  and  possession.  "  I  live," 
St.  Paul  says,  "yet  not  I,  but  Christ  liveth  in  me;  and  the  life 
which  I  now  live  in  the  flesh,  I  live  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God, 
who  loved  me,  and  gave  himself  for  me."  The  life  of  the  Christian 
thus  requii'es  to  be  nourished  and  fed  continually  from  that  same 
immortal  spring  out  of  which  it  has  taken  its  start  in  the  beginning; 
in  signification  of  which,  accordingly,  the  "washing  of  regenera- 
tion," as  it  is  called,  is  to  be  followed  constantl}^  to  the  end  by  the 
use  of  that  other  sacrament  which  is  called  the  "communion  of  the 
body  and  blood  of  Christ,"  as  showing  by  what  aliment  alone  it  is 
at  last  that  this  new  existence  is  maintained  in  our  souls.  What 
the  sacrament  before  us  thus  signifies  and  seals  for  our  faith  is  the 
inmost  meaning  of  Christianity^  and  the  one  great  object,  as  we 
have  said,  of  all  true  Christian  worship. 

We  are  here  to-day.  Christian  brethren,  in  circumstances  well 
suited  to  remind  us  of  our  common  vanit}'. .  We  are  here  to  com- 
mune with  the  past,  long  buried,  though  not  forgotten;  and  in 
doing  so  we  are  powerfully  reminded  how  rapidly  our  years  also 
are  passing  away.  We  shall  never  meet  again,  from  all  parts  of  the 
land,  as  we  have  been  brought  together  on  this  joyful  but  j^t 


Chap.  XLYI]          the  undying  life  in  ciirist  627 

solemn  occasion.  Man}-  of  us  will  soon  be  gone  to  join  those  of 
our  own  generation,  whose  familiar  forms,  still  fresh  in  our  memory, 
seem  to  flit  before  us,  even  now,  amid  the  solemnities  of  this  hour; 
and  it  will  not  be  long  till  all  who  are  here  shall  have  been  swept 
away,  in  like  manner,  into  tlie  oblivious  gulf  of  ages.  For  "we  all 
do  fade  as  a  leaf;''  "our  days  are  as  an  hand-breadth,  and  our  age 
is  as  nothing  before  God."  "As  for  raau,  his  days  are  as  grass, 
and  as  a  flower  of  the  field,  so  he  flourisheth;  for  the  wind  passeth 
over  it,  aud  it  is  gone,  and  the  place  thereof  shall  know  it  no  more." 

And  now  to  tiiis  jirivate  vanity,  which  belongs  to  every  one  of  us, 
must  be  joined  the  sense  of  that  public  political  misery,  b}'  which 
the  earth  is  made  to  tremble  beneath  our  feet,  and  the  very  heavens 
above  us  seem  ready  to  collapse  in  one  universal  crash  of  ruin  over 
our  heads.  But  in  the  midst  of  all  these  crushing  and  confounding 
thoughts,  oh,  what  a  word  is  that — d^'ing  brethren  in  the  undying 
Christ — which,  through  these  sacramental  symbols  of  His  broken 
bod^'  and  shed  blood,  speaks  now  to  our  faith  from  His  own  lips! 
— "  Whoso  eateth  my  flesh,  and  drinketh  my  blood,  hath  eternal 
life;  and  I  will  raise  him  up  at  the  last  da}'.  As  the  living  Father 
hath  sent  me,  and  I  live  b}'  the  Father,  so  he  that  eateth  me,  he 
shall  live  b}-  me.  This  is  that  bread  which  came  down  from  heaven ; 
not  as  your  fathers  did  eat  manna,  and  are  dead :  he  that  eateth  of 
this  bread  shall  live  forever."  It  is  the  word  of  Him  who  is  the 
Amen,  the  faithful  and  true  witness,  the  beginning  of  the  creation 
of  God,  and  the  first-begotten  of  the  dead.  Let  us  respond  to  it, 
from  the  fulness  of  our  hearts,  one  and  all:  "Lord,  evermore  give 
us  this  bread." 

"And  now,  unto  Him  tliat  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins 
in  His  own  blood,  nnd  hath  made  us  kings  and  priests  unto  God 
and  His  Father;  to  Him  be  glory  smd  dominion  for  ever  and  ever. 
Allien.''^ 


I 


CHAPTER   XLVII 

TN  the  year  1866  the  affairs  of  the  College  came  to  a  crisis,  and 
-L  under  the  direction  of  a  m3^sterious  Providence  and  the  logic 
of  events,  Dr.  Nevin  was  once  more  called  to  take  charge  of  its  in- 
terests as  President.  After  the  institution  had  been  transplanted  to 
Lancaster  in  1853,  it  took  root,  began  to  grow,  and  gained  the  con- 
fidence of  the  community  and  of  a  large  constituency  throughout 
the  Church.  Dr.  Gerhart  had  been  indefatigable  in  the  discharge  of 
his  duties,  taught  Ranch's  Psychology  and  Christian  Ethics  with 
zeal,  and  prepared  for  the  benefit  of  the  students  a  translation  of 
Beck's  Logic,  accompanied  with  an  Introduction  to  the  Study  of 
Philosophy  in  general.  By  his  enthusiasm  he  gave  a  new  impulse 
to  the  study  of  Logic,  something  needed  j  as  it  had,  in  some  degree, 
been  undervalued  in  the  philosophical  course  of  the  College. 

The  students  showed  the  same  zeal  for  the  College  as  they  had 
done  at  Mercersburg.  Soon  after  they  came  to  Lancaster  they 
went  to  work  and  by  their  own  exertions,  mainly,  erected  for  them- 
selves Halls  for  the  Literary  Societies,  such  as  they  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  at  Mercersburg.  In  this  case  the  College  building  was 
first  erected,  and  the  two  daughter  buildings  afterwards,  which 
added  A^ery  much  to  its  appearance  on  the  heights  of  Lancaster, 
commanding  an  extensive  view  of  the  country  in  all  directions. 

In  connection  with  these  useful  buildings,  the  endowment  of  the 
College  was  considerably  enlarged  during  the  war. — Elder  Henry 
Leonard,  merchant  of  Basil,  Ohio,  from  a  sense  of  duty  to  the 
Church,  gave  up  his  business  and  devoted  all  his  time  to  inci'easing 
the  endowment  of  the  College  and  Seminary  of  the  Reformed 
Church,  at  Tiffin,  Ohio.  After  laboring  in  this  way  for  awhile,  his 
view  of  his  call  was  enlarged,  and  by  what  he  regarded  as  a  kind 
of  premonition,  in  something  like  a  dream  or  vision,  he  came  to 
believe  that  he  had  a  Divine  call  to  labor  for  the  building  up  of  the 
institutions  of  his  Church  in  the  East  as  well  as  the  West.  His 
services,  accordingly,  were  secured  as  agent  for  Franklin  and  Mar- 
shall College,  and  during  the  years  1863  and  1864  he  was  successful 
in  securing  over  $33,000  for  the  Eastern  College.  Under  all  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  case,  this  was  regarded  as  a  remarkable  feat.  It  is 
an  illustration  of  what  a  plain,  unostentatious  layman  can  accom- 
plish for  the  cause  of  Christ,  by  enei-gy  and  singleness  of  purpose. 

(628) 


Chap.  XL VI  I]  progress  of  the  college  029 

The  Fiieulty,  when  fully  org:inized, consisted  of  f:iithf'ul  and  indus- 
trious workers,  and  the  College  started  out  and  went  forward  in  a 
successful  and  prosperous  career.  Its  graduates  increased  from 
_year  to  year,  and  the  training  and  culture,  which  they  carried  with 
tiiem  to  their  homes,  compared  favorably  with  that  received  in  th(* 
best  schools  of  learning  of  the  country.  The  Institution  held  its 
own  for  some  time  during  the  war,  but  at  length  it  had  to  succumb, 
in  a  considera])le  degree,  to  its  demoralizing  etlects.  Its  large 
classes  passed  away,  and  those  sncceeding  them  became  smaller 
each  year.  In  1862  the  graduating  class  numbered  28,  but  in  1800 
the  number  was  only  six.  Under  the  quickening  influence  of  the 
establishment  of  peace,  how^ever,  the  friends  of  the  College  rallied, 
determined  to  give  it  a  new  impulse,  not  only  to  arrest  apparent 
decline,  but  to  impart  to  it  a  new  inspiration  if  possible.  Com- 
mittees were  appointed  to  examine  into  its  condition  and  wants. 
The  conclusion  arrived  at  was  that  the  Institution  needed  many 
things  to  enable  it  to  keep  abreast  of  the  times;  and, as  a  matter  of 
course,  it  was  soon  ascertained  that,  as  in  the  case  of  most  col- 
leges, it  was  sorely  in  want  of  pecuniary  means  to  maintain  itself. 

In  1853  it  was  supposed  to  be  comparatively  highly-  favored  in 
this  respect ;  but  times  had  changed,  other  institutions  had  been 
enriched;  and  it  was  now  believed  that  it  Avas  imperatively  neces- 
sary that  Franklin  and  Marshall  should  receive  an  increased  en- 
dowment, so  as  fully  to  meet  the  growing  demands  of  the  times. 
It  was  eas}-  to  be  seen  that  it  needed  more  professors,  more  build- 
ings, more  apparatus  and  better  accommodations  generall}-;  but 
such  advantages  would  cost  money  and  a  good  deal  of  it  too,  and 
so  ver^'  properly  the  financial  question  confronted  the  Trustees. 
At  first  it  was  thought  that  $50,000  would  answer  the  purpose, 
l)ut  it  soon  began  to  be  felt  that  it  ought  not  to  be  less  than  $75,000. 
It  did  not,  however,  rest  even  at  that  figure.  Dr.  Wolff",  with  his 
usual  enthusiasm,  put  it  at  $200,000,  assuring  tlwi  Board  that  the 
Church,  and  the  friends  of  the  institution,  would  respond  and  raise 
the  amount.  Peace  had  returned  on  balmy  wings,  the  united 
countr}'  had  already  entered  u})on  a  new  period  of  prosperity, 
and  the  schools  of  the  Church  must  not  lag  behind,  but  go  beyond 
all  their  previous  achievements.     So  it  was  thought. 

The  Board  was  satisfied  with  the  limit,  at  least  $200,000,  set  by 
tliose  who  seemed  to  know  and  mean  what  they  said,  and  accord- 
ingly it  went  on  to  consider  how  so  large  an  amount  of  money  was 
to  be  raised.  That  was  the  next  question.  As  there  was  con- 
siderable free  talk  on  the  street  about  the  Faculty,  it  was  thought 


630  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

by  some  that  it  ought  to  be  reconstructed,  so  that,  if  it  could  be 
made  to  please  ever^'body,  it  would  show  that  the  Board  was  in 
earnest,  and  the  appeal  to  the  churches  for  monc}'  would  meet  with 
a  more  ready  response.  No  sacrifices  could  be  regarded  as  too 
great  to  secure  the  object  in  view.  The  Board  could  then  with 
a  better  countenance  present  an  inducement  to  the  people  to  give 
of  their  means  the  more  liberally. — It  was  moreover  here  again  a 
thought  cherished  by  some  few,  that  the  character  of  the  Faculty 
could  in  this  way  be  materially  changed,  b}'  removing  those 
more  closely  identified  with  Dr.  Nevin  and  his  thoughts.  If  thus 
expurgated  of  its  old  leaven,  it  wonld  be  much  improved,  and  the 
way  be  open  for  a  new  tendency,  or  rather  an  old  one,  which  had 
been  fighting  to  get  the  uppei'-hand  all  along.  It  had  tried  just 
this  kind  of  tactics  when  the  new  Faculty  was  organized  in  1853. 
It  failed  then,  and  so  here  it  foiled  again  in  1866. 

At  a  special  meeting  of  the  Trustees,  on  the  21th  of  January, 
the  chairman  of  one  of  the  committees  in  his  report  favored  such 
a  departure;  on  the  24th  of  May,  at  another  special  meeting,  the 
chairman  of  another  committee  followed  up  this  trail,  and  recom- 
mended that  all  the  professorial  chairs  shonld  be  vacated  on  the 
31st  of  August  following,  so  that  no  one  might  be  in  the  way  of 
filling  them,  according  to  the  best  judgment  of  the  Trustees.  This 
suggestion  was  adopted  and  a  committee  appointed  to  nominate 
candidates  to  fill  the  vacancy,  who  made  a  partial  report,  not  being 
able  to  agree  on  candidates  for  several  of  the  departments.  It 
proposed  that  the  former  president  should  remain  in  his  chair,  but 
that  Dr.  Nevin  should  be  appointed  President  Emeritus.  It  was 
alleged  that  such  a  nominal  connection  with  the  institution  as 
this,  carrjang  with  it  the  strength  of  his  great  name,  would  be 
sufficient  to  give  the  necessary  impulse  to  the  endowment  move- 
ment. 

Dr.  Nevin,  however,  peremptorily  declined  the  honor  proposed 
to  be  conferred  on  him  in  the  report.  It  would  end,  he  thought, 
in  no  practical  results,  and  it  might  do  harm  by  leading  to  useless 
complications.  Besides,  it  seemed  to  impl}-  that  he  was  alread}- 
superannuated — in  his  declining  strength — which  was  something  he 
ver}'  decidedh'  repudiated  and  wished  to  correct.  He  was  in  the 
sixty-fourth  year  of  his  age,  but  as  he  said,  he  regarded  himself 
as  having  only  reached  the  meridian  of  his  intellectual  powers. 
Some  persons  opened  their  eyes  at  this  speech  and  smiled.  He  was 
unwilling  to  be  a  mere  figure-head,  and  did  not  have  enough  vanit}' 
to  think  that  his  name  in  itself  possessed  any  special  virtue  or  magic 


ClIAP.   XLVII]     REORGANIZATION    OF    THE    FACULTY  631 

about  it.  It  was  now  felt  that  the  members  of  the  Board  had  been 
plunged  into  a  wilderness,  with  no  help  from  the  chairmen  of  the 
committees  who  had  gotten  them  into  it  by  their  reports,  and  the 
question  was  how  to  get  out  of  it.  There  was  more  or  less  con- 
fusion, in  the  midst  of  which  the  Board  concluded  to  la}-  the  sub- 
ject of  filling  the  vacancies  on  the  table  until  another  adjourned 
meeting,  which  was  to  convene  on  the  28th  of  June  following,  b}' 
which  time  it  was  hoped  that  the  skies  might  clear  up. 

Pursuant  to  adjournment  the  Board  met  at  tlie  time  specified. 
The  standing  committee  on  candidates  had  no  report  to  make,  and 
the  Board  itself  took  the  matter  in  hand,  and  b}'  resolution  pro- 
ceeded to  fill  the  vacancies  in  the  Faculty  in  a  ver3-  simple  and  con- 
siderate way.  Instead  of  lopping  off  its  extremities,  it  left  them 
stand  just  where  they  were,  and  on  motion  again  of  the  Hon.  John 
W.  Killinger,  gave  them  a  new  head  by  electing  Dr.  Nevin  bona 
fide  President  of  the  College,  and  placing  his  predecessor  b}-  his 
side  as  Vice-President,  which  meant  an  experienced  practical  helper 
in  the  management  of  the  College.  Thus  the  Faculty  was  recon- 
structed and  became  more  efficient  than  ever  before.  This  settle- 
ment of  long  standing  difficulties  in  the  College  was  not  acceptable 
to  everybody',  of  course,  and  least  of  all  to  such  as  were  given  to 
change;  but  it  was  genei-ally  satisfactory  to  its  friends  and  the 
great  part  of  the  Church;  and  tJJC  choice  of  Dr.  Xevin  as  President 
of  the  College  created  general  enthusiasm.  All  hailed  him  back 
again  in  tlie  public  service  of  the  Church  with  sincere  pleasure; 
and  his  presence  at  the  helm  gave  a  new  inspiration  to  the  move- 
ment to  place  the  Institution  upon  a  better  foundation. 

It  was  now  more  evident  than  before  that  the  character,  tenden- 
cies and  general  life  of  the  College  would  remain  as  before,  and 
that  all  attempts,  however  artful,  to  carry  it  forward  under  a  dif- 
ferent spirit,  for  some  time  to  come  at  least,  would  end  in  grief. 
The  result  here  reached  was  a  surprise  to  most  persons,  to  Dr. 
Nevin  no  less  than  to  the  Faculty  and  others.  Previous  to  these 
adjourned  meetings  no  persous  thought  of  placing  him  at  the  head 
of  the  College;  and,  if  it  had  been  proposed,  he  would  have  ver^' 
positively  discouraged  it.  It  was  well  known  that  he  wished  to 
live  in  comparative  retirement,  and  it  was  thought  that  he  could 
not  be  induced  to  change  his  mind  in  that  respect.  The  action  of 
the  Board  implied  no  reflection  u])on  the  efficiency  or  al)ility  of  the 
former  i)resident  nor  of  tlie  Faculty  itself.  It  was  due  to  the  force 
of  circumstances,  or,  more  reverently  speaking,  to  the  hand  of  Prov- 
idence that  directs  all   things,  and  brings  order  out  of  confusion 


G32  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    18G1-187<3  [DlV.  XI 

in  our  daj-  no  less  than  at  the  beginning  of  nil  things. — During  this 
period  of  chaos  the  Board  of  Trustees  as  a  whole  had  a  clear  and 
intelligent  view  of  the  situation,  and  generously  supported  the 
Faculty.  They  had  been  faithful,  and  with  most  persons  they  had 
earned  for  themselves  reputations  for  scholarship  and  fidelit}'  to 
their  trust.  If  attacked  at  the  hotel  or  on  the  street,  Ex-President 
Buchanan  in  particular  was  ready  to  vouch  for  them,  and  told  the 
talkers  plainly  that  he  knew  the  Professors,  and  that  they  would 
have  to  search  far  and  wide  before  they  could  find  substitutes  as 
competent  as  they  to  fill  their  places.  They  were  quite  pleased  with 
such  a  spontaneous  endorsement — laiidari  a  viro  laudato — and 
they  never  forgot  his  generous  service.  Years  afterwards  as  they 
passed  his  grave  in  the  Woodward  Hill  Cemetery",  their  thoughts 
reverting  to  the  support  he  gave  them  in  the  Board  or  elsewhere, 
the}^  blessed  his  memorj^  and  prayed  that  he  might  rest  in  peace. 

During  this  crisis  in  the  affairs  of  the  College,  the  Faculty  lost 
one  of  its  ablest  Professors.  Dr.  Thomas  C.  Porter,  known  far 
and  wide  as  one  of  the  most  distinguished  botanists  in  this  coun- 
try, endowed  with  a  fine  literary  taste  as  an  author  and  poet,  and 
an  eloquent  preacher,  who  had  filled  his  place  for  many  years  in 
the  College  at  Mercersburg  and  Lancaster  with  ability,  influenced 
to  some  extent,  at  least,  by  the  troubles  in  the  Board  of  Trustees, 
accepted  of  an  appointment  as.  Professor  in  Lafayette  College, 
Easton,  Pa.,  his  alma  mater,  and  sundered  the  ties  which  bound 
liim  to  the  institutions  at  Lancaster.  What  was  their  loss  was  a 
gain  elsewhere. 

When  Dr.  Nevin's  name  was  brought  forward  in  the  Board  as  a 
last  resort  in  the  reorganization  of  the  Faculty,  he  was  at  a  loss  to 
know  what  to  say,  and  so  said  nothing;  but  sat  quietly  observing 
the  surging  movements  around  him.  He  was  assured  that  in  the 
emergency  it  had  become  a  necessity  that  he  should  take  his  place 
at  the  head  of  the  College,  in  order  to  allay  the  contentions  in  the 
Board, as  well  as  to  inaugurate  a  general  movement  throughout  the 
Church  to  place  the  College  on  a  better  basis.  At  first  he  hesitated 
and  was  in  doubt,  but  he  soon  received  letters  from  influential  min- 
isters and  laymen  in  all  parts  of  the  Church,  earnestly  entreating 
him  by  all  means  to  accept  of  the  position  tendered  to  him  b}-  the 
Board,  and  assuring  him  that,  if  he  did,  the  Church  would  rail}' 
and  fall  in  freel}'  with  the  endowment  movement.  Such  a  call  as 
this  caused  him  to  feel  that  he  could  not  shrink  altogether  from 
what  appeared  to  him  to  be  the  call  of  duty ;  and  accordingly  he 
sent  the  following  letter  to  the  Board,  at  its  annual  meeting  in  July 


Chap.  XLYII]  dr.  nevix's  letter  633 

a  few  weeks  afterwards,  in  which  he  defined  his  position  and  of- 
fered his  services  to  the  College  provisionally,  in  a  form  which  was 
the  resnlt  of  earnest  thonght  and  reflection. 

"I  acknowledge,"  he  writes,  "thankfully  the  honor  which  the 
Board  has  been  pleased  to  confer  upon  me  in  calling  me  a  second 
time  to  the  Presidency  of  Franklin  and  Marshall  College ;  and  as 
the  reasons  I  had  for  declining  the  office  some  years  ago  have  no 
longer  the  same  force,  whilst  the  circumstances  in  which  the  call  is 
renewed  are  such  as  to  give  it  new  weight,  I  do  not  feel  myself  at 
libert}',  however  much  I  ma3'  still  shrink  from  its  responsible  cares, 
to  turn  it  aside  in  the  same  absolute  wa3\  It  is  placed  before  me 
as  a  part  of  a  general  movement,  b}'  which  it  is  proposed  to  enlarge 
the  operations  of  the  Institution  on  a  scale  answerable  to  the  wants 
of  the  present  time,  a  movement  which  contemplates  first  of  all  an 
addition,  at  least  of  $200,000,  to  its  endowment  as  it  now  stands.  It 
is  said  that  the  success  of  this  movement  depends  on  my  being 
placed  at  the  head  of  the  College,  and  that  without  my  name  in 
such  position  it  cannot  be  carried  forward  with  effect.  Too  much 
account  is  made  of  my  name,  I  am  afraid,  in  this  view;  but  where, 
in  a  case  like  this,  so  much  importance  is  attached  to  it  by  others, 
a  sort  of  necessity  is  placed  upon  me  not  to  withhold  it  from  the 
service  of  so  worth}'  an  enterprise. 

"  I  therefore  consent  to  co-operate  with  the  friends  of  the  Insti- 
tution in  carrying  out  the  plan  proposed  for  its  enlargement,  b}' 
accepting  ])rovisionally  and  conditionally  the  office  of  President  to 
which  I  am  now  called.  I  say  provislonaUy  and  coinlitionaUy  ;  for 
I  am  not  willing  to  be  bound  in  the  case,  be3^ond  what  may  be 
found  to  be  the  readiness  of  others  also,  to  do  what  is  needed  for 
the  accomplishment  of  the  work  in  hand.  I  am  quite  willing  to 
join  witli  others  in  trying  to  give  the  College  new  life  and  force; 
l)ut  others  also  must  join  with  me  in  the  large  and  arduous  task. 
Witliout  this,  my  name  and  service  will  not  avail  to  rescue  the  In-. 
stitution  from  comparative  insignificance.  There  must  be  strong 
and  full  co-operation  from  all  sides  in  its  favor  during  the  coming 
}ear;  and  on  this,  I  wish  it  to  be  well  understood,  must  hang  in 
tlie  end  the  question  of  my  full  and  formal  acceptance  of  the  honor- 
able situation  now  offered  to  me  b}-  the  Board." 

As  in  1841,  so  in  1866,  Dr.  Nevin  became  only  a  provisional 
President  of  the  College,  not  more  than  a  temporary  suppl}-  at  the 
time.  He  therefore  did  not  regard  it  as  incumbent  on  him  to  be 
inducted  formally  into  office  or  to  deliver  a  formal  inaugural  ad- 
dress. As,  however,  a  desire  was  expressed  from  different  quarters, 
40 


634  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

that  the  resumption  of  his  old  office  should  be  marked  by  a  gen- 
eral "comprehension  or  gathering  up,"  as  he  expressed  it,  "of  the 
past  in  the  present,"  he  accordingly,  at  the  Commencement  of  186*7, 
delivered  a  Baccalaureate  Address,  first  to  the  Graduating  Class 
and  then  to  the  Alumni  in  general.  It  was  published  in  the  Octo- 
ber number  of  the  Mercershurg  Review^ — which  had  died  out  in 
1861  during  the  troubles  of  the  war;  but  now,  in  consequence  of 
the  new  life  and  energy  displa^'ed  at  Lancaster,  and  in  most  parts 
of  the  country,  it  was  revi^'ed  at  the  beginning  of  the  year  1867,  un- 
der the  vigorous  editorship  of  Dr.  Henry  Harbaugh,  successor  of 
Dr.  Wolff  in  the  Seminar}^  at  Mercersburg. 

It  is  an  interesting  document,  showing  the  state  of  Dr.  Nevin's 
mind  at  this  epoch.  His  period  of  comparative  retirement  had  pass- 
ed away,  and  now  he  reappears  on  the  public  stage  once  more,  full  of 
courage  and  faith,  coming  forth,  as  it  were,  from  his  chamber,  rejoic- 
ing like  a  strong  man  to  run  another  race.  During  the  war  his  mind 
had  suffered  great  tribulation.  Society'  seemed  to  him  to  be  going 
backwards  into  chaos,  and  for  a  time  he  did  not  think  the  central 
government  possessed  the  requisite  ability  to  restore  order  or  the 
Union.  With  other  earnest  men  in  the  North,  for  a  time,  he  thought 
that  the  only  way  out  of  encompassing  difficulties  was  to  say  to 
the  "wayward  sisters"  of  the  South,  depart  in  peace.  The  basis, 
however,  of  his  family  life  was  faith  in  the  Union,  and  when  his 
two  sons,  William  Wilberforce  and  Robert  Jenkins,  bravely  enter- 
ed the  army  his  sympathies  were  deepl}^  aroused,  and  he  dismissed 
them  with  a  father's  prayers.  Probably  there  were  few,  who  pra3^ed 
at  all,  who  prayed  more  fervently  for  the  success  of  the  govern- 
ment in  bringing  order  out  of  confusion.  When  he  therefore  wit- 
nessed the  recuperative  energies  of  the  Americans,  drawn  from 
their  reserve  force,  he  himself  became  so  much  stronger  in  mind, 
and  this  shows  itself  to  an  extent  quite  exhilarating  and  invigora- 
.  tive,  in  his  "  Concio  ad  Alumnos  "  at  the  Commencement  of  1861. 
— The  Address  is  here  given  in  full. 

Young  Gentlemen: — Just  fourteen  years  have  elapsed  since  I 
stood  in  this  place  to  speak  my  parting  words  to  the  last  Senior 
Class  of  the  old  Marshall  College,  which  was  at  the  same  time  the 
first  Senior  Class  of  the  new  consolidated  institution,  into  which 
the  old  college  had  become  merged  in  this  place.  That  solemn  pub- 
lic act  closed,  as  I  then  thought  finall3^,the  relation  in  which  I  had 
stood  to  the  college  as  its  President  through  previous  years;  and 
in  view  of  this  fact,  it  seemed  proper  to  make  my  farewell  to  the 


Chap.  XLYII]  commencement  address  635 

graduating  class  a  sort  of  general  farewell  to  all  who  had  ever  been 
under  my  care  as  students.  The  Baccalaureate  became  in  this  way 
an  oration  to  the  Alumni.  A  desire  has  been  expressed  from  differ- 
ent quarters,  that  the  resumption  of  mj'  old  ofliee  should  be  marked 
on  this  occasion  b}-  a  similar  comprehension  or  gathering  up  of  the 
past  in  the  present;  and  you  will  not  therefore  take  it  amiss,  if  my 
address  to  you  now,  as  the  first  graduating  class  under  my  new 
term  of  service,  be  so  widened  and  enlarged  in  its  scope  as  to  take 
the  form  of  a  fatherly-  address  to  all  who  have  gone  forth  from  the 
institution,  whether  actually  present  here  to-day  or  not — both  the 
older  generation  of  students  from  the  classic  shades  of  Mercersbnrg, 
and  the  later  succession  that  has  been  added  to  these  veteran  ranks 
from  the  halls  of  Franklin  and  Marshall  here  in  Lancaster.  Into 
this  general  brotherhood,  this  goodly  fellowship  of  kindred  academic 
life,  you  have  been  solemnly  nshered  by  the  honors  of  this  Com- 
mencement Day.  I  see  you  before  me  now  as  part  of  the  great 
family  which  has  thus  received  30U  into  its  bosom ;  and  as  the  organ 
of  your  common  alma  mater ^  what  I  have  to  sa^-  to  3'ou  farther,  at 
the  present  time,  I  say  to  all. 

To  you  then,  Sons  of  the  College  at  large,  the  representatives  of 
its  life  through  thirt}'  years,  I  now  turn  my  address.  In  doing  so, 
however,  the  old  familar  conipellation  of  the  baccalaureate  falls  help- 
less to  the  ground.  I  can  no  longer  address  you  as  Young  Gentle- 
men. Most  of  \'0u  at  least  have  outgrown  that  title.  It  will  no 
longer  fit  especially  the  students  of  Mercersbnrg.  In  mj^  mind's 
eye,  indeed,  the}'  are  still  young;  and  I  seem  to  renew  the  vigor  of 
ni}'  own  life,  when  I  call  to  remembrance  the  youthful  forms,  replete 
with  the  generous  spirit  of  j^outh,  in  which  they  passed  before  me, 
with  dail}'  familiar  intercourse,  in  former  j^ears.  Need  I  say,  my  be- 
loved Pupils,  that  it  is  an  eas}-  illusion  with  me,  in  the  midst  of  such 
retrospective  contemplation,  to  think  of  you  still  as  "bo3-s,''and 
thus  almost  to  forget  the  present  in  the  past?  I  doubt  not  but 
that  at  times  you  are  yourselves  borne  awa}-  by  the  power  of  the 
same  illusion;  and  that  amid  the  festivities  in  particular  of  your 
present  Alumni  Reunion,  you  have  been  tempted  to  look  upon  it 
as  not  only  your  privilege,  but  your  right,  to  be  boys  again  in  the 
fullest  and  best  sense  of  the  term. 

liut  the  fancy  is  too  bold ;  and  it  is  best  that  we  keep  it,  j'ou  and 
I,  to  our  own  hearts.  You  are  no  longer  boys;  allow  me  to  say  it 
in  all  seriousness,  you  are  no  longer  even  young  gentlemen,  in  the 
common  acceptation  of  the  address.  It  would  sound  ludicrous  to 
this  audience,  not  knowing  ^-ou  as  I  do,  to  hear  you  characterized 


k 


636  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

by  any  such  title.  My  own  e3'es,  as  I  gaze  upon  3^011,  correct  with 
rude  shock  the  fond  hallucination  of  mj^  feelings  in  regard  to  the 
point.  You  are  not  yet  any  of  3'ou  old  men,  properl}-  speaking; 
but  you  are  all  fast  becoming  old ;  and  it  will  require  only  a  few 
years — years  that  will  pass,  0,how  quickly — to  advance  j^ou  all  to 
the  gray-haired  dignitj^  of  fathers,  in  the  generation  which  has  here- 
tofore known  you  onl^-  as  sons.  I  say  this  primarily  of  the  old 
Mercersburg  students.  But  the  first  classes  of  Lancaster  are,  of 
course,  pressing  hard  after  them,  in  the  same  career  of  age;  and  all 
of  you  together  know  that  the  dreams  of  youth  are  forever  behind 
you,  that  the  stern  realities  of  life  are  around  you,  that  its  respon- 
sible burdens  are  full  upon  you,  and  that  what  lies  before  you  is  no 
longer  play  nor  preparation,  but  the  long,  laborious  work  of  earnest 
and  full-grown  men. 

I  do  not  address  you  to-day  then  as  young  men.  It  is  not  right 
that  either  3'ou  or  I  should  forget,  or  tr}^  to  forget,  the  course  of 
time  in  which  we  are  solemnly  involved.  The  present  occasion, 
rightly  improved,  cannot  fail  to  bring  home  to  us  the  fact  that  we 
are  getting  old ;  and  to  remind  us  how  far  we  have  come  and  where 
we  now  stand,  in  the  great  world  movement  to  which  we  belong. 
Rightly  improved,  however,  it  cannot  fail  also  to  rejuvenate  and 
freshen  the  sense  of  the  present  b}"  the  wholesome  recollection  of 
the  past.  I  would  not  have  you  forget  your  college  da3's.  You 
have  no  wish  yourselves  to  forget  them.  I  would  not  have  you 
forget  that  you  were  once  boys.  There  is  a  natural  piety,  here,  as 
Wordsworth  terms  it,  which  should  ever  bind  our  manhood  to  our 
childhood  and  boyhood,  our  later  to  our  earlier  life;  and  without 
which,  we  have  full  reason  to  saj^,  our  later  life  can  never  be  either 
solid  or  sound.  The  bo3'  is  in  a  profound  sense  father  to  the  man ; 
and  the  A'igor  of  a  true  man,  be  well  assured,  on  even  to  green  old 
age,  depends  largely-  on  the  power  he  has  to  carrj^  along  with  him 
the  spirit  of  his  boj^hood  to  the  last.  Cherish  in  such  view  the 
memories  that  are  made  to  crowd  upon  3'ou  on  this  anniversar3' 
occasion.  Gh^e  room  to  your  youthful  feelings.  The3^  cannot 
make  3'ou  3'oung  again,  in  the  old  outward  wa3'  in  which  3'ou  were 
once  3'oung.  But  the3^  may  help  at  least  to  keep  30U  3'oung  at 
heart;  which  is  something  far  better;  better  for  yourselves;  and 
better  also  for  the  world  in  which  3  ou  are  called  to  work. 

A  retrospective  view  of  life  is  in  an3^  circumstances  interesting 
and  instructive.  But  it  becomes  especiall3'  so,  where  the  period 
it  OA^erlooks  is  found  to  be  of  great  public  significance,  added  to 
the  meaning  it  may  have  for  ourselves  separatel3^  considered.     In 


Chap.  XLYII]  commencement  address  63Y 

such  view,  let  uie  refer  jignin  to  the  interval  which  has  passed  since 
my  last  address  to  the  graduates  of  Marshall  College  spoken  from 
this  place  in  1853.  As  a  period  simply  of  fourteen  A'ears,  it  may 
not  seem  to  amount  to  much  in  the  general  chronology-  of  the 
world,  whatever  serious  changes  we  may  feel  it  to  have  brought 
with  it  for  each  one  of  us,  in  our  own  persons  and  in  our  immediate 
personal  surroundings.  But  look  at  these  fourteen  years  again, 
in  what  they  have  brought  to  pass  for  this  nation,  and  for  the  his- 
tory of  the  world,  and  tell  me  what  language  is  sufficient  to  express 
properly  their  momentous  import.  The  distance  which  separates 
us  to-day  from  the  first  Commencement  of  Franklin  and  Marshall 
College  in  1853,  is  but  feebly  represented  b}-  any  such  brief  chro- 
nological measure  as  this.  It  is  a  period,  in  which,  as  we  look  back 
ui)on  it,  days  seem  to  lose  their  ordinary-  sense,  and  the  flight  of 
weeks  is  turned  into  the  flight  of  years.  It  is  more  for  each  one  of 
us,  immeasurabh',  than  the  simple  change  it  has  wrought  in  our 
own  age. 

In  the  general  movement  of  the  world,  we  have  lived  scores,  I 
had  almost  said  centuries  of  years,  in  passing  through  it.  For  the 
life  of  the  world,  as  we  know,  does  not  run  forward  with  equal  con- 
tinuous stream ;  there  are  times  with  it,  when  the  slow  course  of 
ages  gathers  itself  up,  as  it  were,  into  the  compass  of  moments,  and 
the  meaning  of  a  thousand  years  is  precipitated  into  the  rush  of  a 
few  days.  Then  it  is  that  the  far  past  and  the  far  future,  the  "  ends 
of  the  ages  "  as  St.  Paul  calls  them,  seem  to  meet  and  come  together 
in  the  instantaneous  present.  Of  such  character,  most  emphatically, 
is  the  period  here  under  consideration,  the  brief  space  of  time  that 
has  passed  since  I  last  stood  before  3-ou  as  now  in  the  summer  of 
1853.  Since  then,  the  index-hand  on  the  dial-plate  of  the  world's 
history  has  swept  an  arc,  which  ma}-  be  said  fairly  to  confound  all 
human  calculation.  The  sense  of  ages  has  come  into  view  through 
our  late  American  war,  and  is  now  pouring  itself  forward  with  cat- 
aract force  in  its  might}'  issues  and  consequences — political,  moral, 
social,  economic,  scientific,  and  religious — as  never  in  any  like 
period  of  tlie  world's  life  before. 

Regai'ded  simply  as  an  act  in  the  drama  of  our  own  national  ex- 
istence, the  political  struggle  through  which  we  have  passed  must 
be  acknowledged  to  be  the  grandest  that  has  ever  had  place  among 
men.  The  world  has  never  before  known  such  a  war;  the  life  and 
death  struggle  of  such  a  nation  as  this,  caught  suddenly  in  the 
anaconda  folds  of  so  vast  a  rebellion,  born  from  its  own  bosom;  a 
war  of  such  huge  proportions,  carried  forward  on  so  broad  a  field. 


638  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

and  hurried  through  to  such  overwhelming  results  in  so  short  a 
period  of  time.  For  the  nation  itself,  of  course,  the  importance  of 
it,  in  its  relations  to  the  past  and  in  its  bearings  on  the  future,  is 
beyond  all  description,  and  indeed  as  yet  beyond  all  knowledge  or 
imagination.  All  that  may  have  been  new  or  great,  or  full  of  inter- 
est, in  the  previous  history  of  the  countrj^ :  its  discovery  more 
than  three  centuries  ago ;  its  colonies  and  colonial  times ;  its  war  of 
independence;  the  foundation  and  adoption  of  its  constitution;  and 
whatever  has  been  of  account  in  the  enlargement  of  its  resources 
or  in  the  development  of  its  powers  since ;  all  is  found  at  last,  I 
sa}^,  gathering  itself  up  into  the  grandeur  of  this  last  crisis,  and 
showing  itself  to  have  been  significant  only  as  it  has  serA^ed  to 
prepare  the  way  for  its  advent. 

Here,  in  a  most  profound  sense,  it  may  be  said  that  a  nation  has 
been  born  in  a  da}-.  For  all  that  had  place  before  in  the  life  of 
these  United  States  deserves  to  be  considered,  and  spoken  of,  as 
little  better  than  an  embrj^onic  existence,  over  against  the  new  or- 
der of  being  we  have  been  ushered  into  through  the  mighty  parturi- 
tion pains  and  throes  of  the  late  war.  Whatever  we  may  have 
thought  of  the  war  itself  during  its  progress,  now  that  it  is  over, 
if  we  have  any  faith  in  the  future  of  the  nation  at  all,  we  cannot 
possibly  fail  to  see  in  it  the  presence  of  a  power,  which  must  deter- 
mine our  character  and  destiny  as  a  people,  in  the  most  universal  and 
radical  way,  for  all  time  to  come.  It  is  in  vain  to  disguise  it ;  we 
have  passed  through  a  revolution  ;  or  shall  I  not  say  rather,  we  are 
still  in  the  midst  of  a  revolution,  greater  than  any  j^et  known  to 
the  nations  of  Europe;  greater  altogether  than  that  from  which  our 
political  freedom  dates  in  17*76;  a  revolution  wrought  out  organic- 
ally from  the  inmost  forces  of  the  national  life,  which  in  such  view 
amounts  to  a  regeneration,  profound  and  deep  as  the  foundations 
of  this  life  itself.  Well  ma^-  we  bow  before  it  with  wondering,  awe- 
struck admiration ;  for  it  is  the  wonder  of  all  wonders  in  these  last 
times.  It  has  been  to  the  nation  like  the  baptism  of  the  Eed  Sea. 
Old  things  have  been  made  to  pass  away  by  it;  and  now,  lo,  all 
things  are  becoming  new. 

How  much  this  revolution  means  becomes  still  more  evident, 
when  we  take  into  view,  in  connection  with  it,  the  wa}'  in  which  the 
conditions  and  terms  of  our  national  life,  externally  considered, 
are  found  to  correspond  with  it;  so  demanding  and  requiring  it,  as 
it  now  seems,  that  it  is  hard  to  see  how  the}'  could  have  been  met 
and  satisfied  in  any  other  way.  It  is  in  the  light  of  such  correspond- 
ences especially,  siiringing  from  the  depths,  and  coming,  as  it  were. 


Chap.  XLYII]  commencement  address  639 

from  the  fixrthest  ends  of  the  earth,  that  the  h.aiul  of  God  reveals 
itself  in  histor3\  Without  dwelling  upon  the  subject  at  large,  let  it 
suffice  now  to  say,  that  this  nation,  as  we  believe,  was  planted  and 
kept  apart  in  the  Western  world  for  high  purposes  peculiar  to  it- 
self; that  it  has  not  been  possil)le  for  it,  in  the  conditions  in  which 
it  has  heretofore  stood,  to  obe}'  its  A-ocation  or  mission  successfull}^ 
thus  far  under  its  first  relatively  defective  organization;  that  with 
its  own  growth,  however,  and  the  progress  of  things  generally-,  this 
was  becoming  more  and  more  impracticable;  when  all  at  once,  and 
as  it  were  to  meet  the  emergency,  the  political  crisis  before  us 
burst  forth  in  fire  and  blood,  making  room  for  a  new  ordering  of 
the  State,  Avhich,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  will  be  found  answerable  to  its 
enlarged  necessities  and  responsibilities  in  all  time  to  come. 

Our  late  war  has  been  for  us,  in  this  view,  immeasurabl}-  more 
than  the  simple  putting  down  of  the  rebellion  from  which  it  sprung. 
It  has  borne  us  through  the  pillars  of  Hercules,  out  into  the  broad 
ocean  of  life,  of  which  we  had  no  conception  before.  It  has  roused 
us,  as  a  people,  to  self-consciousness;  lifted  us  into  manhood; 
brought  home  to  us  the  sense  of  our  own  resources;  and  given  us 
a  history,  it  has  been  well  said,  "  which  even  the  war  powers  of  the 
old  world  must  respect  and  acknowledge  as  a  title  to  the  fellowship 
of  great  nations."  It  has  brought  us  suddenly  abreast  with  the 
great  moving  forces  of  the  age,  and  compelled  us  to  hold  ourselves 
in  line  with  them  from  this  time  onward,  as  the  necessary  condition 
of  our  whole  future  existence.  It  has  settled  the  question  of  our 
national  unit3',  before  always  more  or  less  problematical  and  un- 
certain. It  has  tested  the  strength  and  stability  of  our  republican 
constitution,  and  demonstrated  the  possibility  of  popular  self-gov- 
ernment on  a  scale,  and  to  an  extent,  beyond  all  that  it  had  en- 
tered into  the  heart  of  man  hitherto  to  imagine  or  conceive. 

We  are  fairly  bewildered  and  lost,  in  trying  to  take  in  the  measure 
of  our  present  greatness,  the  momentum  of  our  present  onward 
course,  as  compared  with  all  we  have  been  before.  The  colossal 
proportions  of  our  late  war  have  made  the  nation  all  at  once  gigan- 
tic. The  popular  mind  has  grown  fiimiliar  with  gigantic  thoughts, 
gigantic  purposes,  and  gigantic  deeds.  We  are  ready  to  bridge  the 
Hellespont,  or  tunnel  Mount  Athos,  at  a  moment's  warning.  Never 
before  has  the  world  seen  or  heard  of  such  wonders  of  energy-  and 
strength,  as  liave  attended,  and  are  now  still  following,  the  four 
years'  struggle  through  which  we  have  passed.  The}'  have  dis- 
tanced all  comparison,  confounded  all  calculation,  turned  all  pre- 
cedent to  confusion  and  shame.     Xo  wonder  that  the  hoary  state 


640  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

craft  of  Europe  is  made  to  stand  aghast,  at  what  might  seem  to  be 
so  uiiiA'ersal  a  breaking  awa}-  from  old  time  formulas  and  rules ;  for 
here,  emphatically,  all  the  traditions  of  the  past  are  found  to  be  at 
fault.  Our  public  debt,  in  this  view,  is  sublime;  and  still  more  so, 
of  course,  our  public  credit  maintained  thus  far  throngh  it  all,  and 
the  stupendous  fiscal  administration  which  is  moving  steadilj-  on- 
ward, in  conjunction  with  the  free  pleasure  of  the  people,  to  its  full, 
speedy  liquidation. 

And  more  sublime,  in  some  respects,  even  than  the  war  itself,  is 
the  work  of  political  reorganization  now  in  progress,  by  which  the 
nation  is  to  be  formed  and  fitted  for  the  career  of  glor}'  that  now 
stretches  before  it,  with  seemingly  interminable  prospect,  through 
the  far  distant  future.  Of  this  coming  greatness,  what  tongue  can 
adequately  speak?  How  can  we  reflect  on  the  truly  continental 
character  which  has  come  even  now  to  invest  all  the  elements  of 
our  growth;  the  rebounding  vitality,  the  feeling  of  endless  strength, 
the  sense  of  inward  enlargement,  with  which  we  have  come  out  from 
our  Briarean  struggle;  our  mighty  territory,  reaching  from  sea  to 
sea;  the  rate  at  which  our  population  is  increasing  every  year  by 
the  natural  law  of  birth ;  the  incalculable  tide  of  immigration  (a 
more  important  Volkerwanderung  than  any  the  world  has  ever 
witnessed  before),  by  which  the  life  of  all  European  nationalties  is 
now  to  be  poured  into  our  bosom  in  a  way  as  yet  hardly  dreamed 
of  by  any;  the  new  fields  of  untold,  unimaginable  wealth,  on  the 
earth  and  under  the  earth,  which  are  soon  to  make  our  national 
debt  seem  lighter  than  a  feather;  the  Aactories  of  art  over  nature 
on  all  sides  among  us,  b}^  which  mountains  are  leveled  and  valleys 
raised  before  the  march  of  modern  improvement,  by  which  time 
and  distance  are  more  and  more  surmounted,  and  the  compact  unity 
of  the  country  is  made  to  keep  pace  fully,  and  even  more  than  fully, 
with  its  greatest  geographical  expansion  :  how,  I  say,  can  we  reflect 
on  all  this  (ci'ossing  the  continent,  for  example,  with  the  eloquentl}^ 
thoughtful  eye  of  a  Colfax),  and  not  feel  ourselves  absolutely  over- 
whelmed b}^  the  solemn  sense  of  what  is  around  us,  the  thrilling 
apprehension  of  what  is  before  us,  in  the  present  condition  of  our 
country  I 

But  to  estimate  properly  what  this  condition  involves,  we  must 
take  into  consideration  more  than  these  relatively  outward  elements 
and  forces,  as  concerned  in  the  working  out  of  the  problem  it  brings 
to  our  view.  There  are  concerned  in  what  is  thus  going  forward, 
at  the  same  time,  the  historical  forces  of  the  world's  modern  mind 
and  thought,  the  issues  of  its  past  science,  the  results  of  its  past 


Chap.  XLYII]  commencement  address  641 

inonility  and  religion,  the  deepest  instincts  of  its  present  spiritual 
life,  its  profoundest  political  ideas — in  a  word,  we  may  say,  the  in- 
most philosoph}-  of  the  age.  These  spiritual  and  moral  forces,  now 
deeph'  at  work  everywhere  in  our  modern  civilization,  no  less,  I 
say,  than  the  more  outward  powers  before  spoken  of,  are  tending 
with  accumulating  strength  toward  the  introduction  of  a  new  order 
of  life  for  the  world  at  large,  a  new  era  altogether  in  the  world's 
social  and  political  history;  and  in  doing  so,  it  is  plain  that  they 
are  throwing  themselves  more  and  more,  with  united  volume,  into 
the  onward,  moving  destiny  of  our  vast  American  Republic. 

Here  they  are  to  have  their  central  field  of  action.  Here  only 
the}'  are  to  find  full  outlet  for  their  impetuous  tide,  and  free  com- 
mensurate scope  for  its  overflowing  course  in  time  to  come.  We  feel 
all  this  sensibly  now,  as  never  before,  in  the  grand  political  epoch 
which  has  come  upon  us  within  the  last  few  j'ears;  and  this  especi- 
all}'  it  is, that  makes  the  epoch  beyond  expression  solemn, as  gather- 
ing up  in  itself  the  sense  of  centuries  past,  and  carrying  in  its  womb 
at  the  same  time  the  sense  of  centuries  yet  unborn.  Here  now,  it 
would  seriously  seem,  are  to  be  settled  and  solved  the  great  life 
questions,  that  are  l)ecoming  more  and  more  the  burden  of  human- 
it3',  the  mystery  of  the  last  da3's,  the  ominous  approximation  of  the 
present  order  of  the  world  to  its  full  winding  up  in  the  second 
coming  of  Christ. 

In  all  that  has  now  been  said,  we  are  made  to  feel  the  prospective 
greatness  of  this  country  in  a  wny  it  might  have  seemed  extrava- 
gant to  dream  of  onl^-  a  few  years  ago;  and  can  thus  apprehend,  in 
the  light  of  it,  the  unutterable,  illimitable  significance  of  what  has 
latel}'  come  to  pass  in  our  history.  The  curtain  is  suddenly-  lifted 
before  our  eyes,  revealing  to  us  an  entirely  new  scheme  in  the  drama 
of  our  national  existence,  and  opening  to  our  astonished  gaze  a  vista 
of  coming  wonders  more  marvellous  than  the  wildest  creations  of 
Arabian  tale  or  of  Persian  romance.  The  nation  is  shut  up,  we  now 
see  i)lainly,  by  the  very  conditions  of  its  existence,  to  a  career  and 
destination  without  an}'  sort  of  parallel  in  the  history  of  the  Old 
World.  The  massive  kingdoms  of  Asia,  and  the  more  thoroughly 
organized  governments  of  Europe,  are  to  be  repeated  here  in  a  form 
that  shall  be  found  to  unite  in  itself  the  highest  ideal  of  both — 
political  mass,  in  the  widest  and  lai-gest  view,  actuated  throughout 
liy  the  unity  of  free,  intelligent  soul.  For  the  country,  it  would 
now  seem  to  be  providentially  ordained,  must  remain  one,  in  spite 
of  all  territorial  extension.  This  at  once  sunders  it  from  all  trans- 
atlantic exami)les.     It  can  be  no  second  England,  or  Germany,  or 


1 

i 


642  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

France;  just  as  little  as  it  can  reiterate  the  ancient  life  of  Greece 
or  Rome. 

Then,  Tvitli  boundless  territory',  must  come,  also,  boundless  pop- 
ulation ,  a  tide  of  life  that  shall  outswell  now  all  past  rates  of 
growth;  rising  and  spreading  with  magic  rapidity' ;  sweeping,  roll- 
ing, rushing  over  the  broad,  reclaimed  wastes  of  the  sunn}-  South, 
and  over  the  prairies,  forests,  and  sierras  of  the  might}'  West; 
millions  upon  millions,  a  multitude  which  no  man  can  number. 
And  along  with  this  again,  in  simultaneous  progression,  a  corre- 
sponding development  of  material  resources  and  power;  wealth 
springing  out  of  the  earth,  and  flowing  through  the  rivers,  and 
bursting  from  the  mountains  on  everj'  side;  cities  in  magnificent 
profusion;  the  vast  arttries  of  commerce  and  trade,  together  with 
the  nerves  of  electric  intelligence,  reaching  over  the  continent  in  all 
directions,  and  binding  it  together  with  the  sense  of  common  inter- 
est, and  the  consciousness  of  common  life. 

Westward,  of  a  truth,  the  star  of  empire,  the  march  of  civiliza- 
tio7i,  takes  its  wa^^;  and  having  now  passed  round  the  globe,  the 
movement  would  appear  to  have  come  really  to  its  conclusion  here 
in  touching  the  shores  of  the  Pacific,  while  the  historical  course  of 
the  centuries,  at  the  same  time,  is  precipitating  itself,  with  strange 
synchronistic  coincidence,  upon  the  same  continental  theatre;  to 
work  out,  as  it  were,  what  St.  Peter  calls  the  "end  of  all  things," 
on  a  scale  answerable  to  the  dimensions  of  so  vast  a  problem.  For 
no  one  can  imagine,  surely,  that  our  American  life,  or  the  life  of 
the  woi'ld  rather,  in  this,  its  last  form,  can  ever  advance  upon  itself, 
by  entering  upon  a  new  circuit  of  civilization  and  culture  in  Asia. 
Thus  far,  and  no  farther !  is  the  law  prescribed  for  it  by  the 
Pacific  Ocean. 

Here  the  end  has  come  round  again  to  the  beginning;  the  his- 
torical ages  have  run  their  predestined  course;  the  extremities  look 
each  other  in  the  face;  the  dumb  prophecy  of  China,  holding  in 
sta,gnation,  since  the  days  of  Confucius,  well-nigh  half  the  popula- 
tion of  the  globe,  is  confronted  at  last  with  its  own  far-off  fulfilment 
(though  without  understanding  it),  in  what  are  soon  to  be  the  mul- 
titudinous millions  of  these  United  States— a  population  equal  to 
its  own,  not  Mongolian,  but  Caucasian,  in  the  latest  style  of  this 
dominant  race,  with  all  its  energies  developed  in  full  force,  and 
brought  into  universal  action.  All  things  conspire  plainly  to  show 
here  the  presence  of  the  last  times,  and  to  proclaim  the  coming  in, 
on  a  grand  scale,  of  what  must  be  considered  the  closing  scene  of 
the  world's  histor}',  in  its  present  order  and  form. 


CHAr.  XLVII]  COMMENCEMENT    ADDRESS  643 

The  interests  of  the  whole  woild  thus  :irc  hound  up  in  what  lias 
been  going  forward  of  late  in  our  own  country ;  and  we  are  made  to 
feel  solemnly'  that  the  national  crisis  through  wdiich  we  are  now  pass- 
ing is,  in  verj'  truth,  a  world  crisis,  greater  and  more  decisive  than 
any  the  world  has  ever  previously  known.  It  is  no  longer  the  dream 
of  American  vanit}',  simpl}-  to  speak  of  the  significance  of  America 
in  this  way.  It  is  fast  becoming  sober  earnest  for  the  nations  of 
Europe  themselves.  Our  late  war  was  echoed  in  the  universal 
heart  of  the  Old  World,  and  met  responsive  vibrations  everywhere 
in  its  conflicting  opinions,  sympathies,  and  wishes;  as  the  issue  of 
it,  also,  has  entered  deeph*  intt)  the  soul  of  all  countries,  and  is  al- 
ready working  out  consequences  which  no  foresight  of  man  can 
measure  or  reveal. 

In  a  profound  sense,  the  struggle  was  representative  for  the  race 
at  large.  The  tread  of  its  armies,  the  thunder  of  its  battles,  shook 
the  entire  earth,  and  wrought  deliverance  for  humanit}'  such  as  has 
never  been  wrought  b}'  the  agency  of  war  before.  In  the  language 
of  Professor  Goldwin  Smith's  late  brilliant  address  in  England: 
"  Not  the  fields  on  which  Greek  intellect  and  art  were  saved  from 
the  Persian;  not  the  fields  on  which  Roman  law  and  polity  were 
saved  from  the  Carthaginian  and  the  Gaul ;  not  the  plains  of  Tours, 
on  which  Charles  Martel  rolled  back  Islam  from  the  heart  of 
Christendom;  not  the  waters  over  which  the  shattered  Armada 
fled;  not  Leipsic  and  Lutzen,  Marston  and  Naseby,  where,  at  the 
hands  of  Gustavus  and  Cromwell,  the  great  reaction  of  the  seven- 
teenth century-  found  its  doom,  will  be  so  consecrated  by  the  grati- 
tude of  after  ages  as  Yicksburg,  Gett^^sburg,  Atlanta,  and  those 
lines  before  Richmond  which  saw  the  final  blow." 

All  with  us  now,  as  a  nation,  has  been,  and  still  continues  to  be, 
Avorld-historical  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  term.  We  know  it,  and 
feel  it,  more  and  more  continually,  on  all  sides.  Our  thinking  and 
working  liave  come  to  be  of  boundless  signification  for  the  human 
race.  The  greatest  questions  of  life,  the  last  problems  of  history-, 
are  fast  crowding  upon  us  for  their  solution.  Here  is  to  be  settled, 
on  a  grand  scale,  how  far  men  are  capable  of  self-government  in  a 
truly  free  way;  how  far  the  interests  of  public  authority  and  per- 
sonal independence  can  be  made  to  meet  harmonionsl}'  in  the  same 
political  system.  Here  is  to  be  issued  and  adjudicated  practically- 
the  old  arch-controvers}',  l)etween  the  rights  of  man,  as  they  are 
called,  and  the  duties  of  man.  Hei'e  are  to  be  met,  and  answered 
in  some  way,  the  tremendous  politico-economical  and  social  prob- 
lems, which  are  even  now  stirring  the  lowest  depths  of  our  modern 


644  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1870  [DiV.  XI 

civilization,  and  threatening  like  a  subterranean  mine  to  blow  it 
into  ten  thousand  fragments.  Here  is  to  be  resolved  the  great  eth- 
nological question,  which  is  to  determine  finally  the  relation  of  the 
inferior  races  to  the  Caucasian  in  the  consummation  of  the  world's 
history.  Here  is  to  be  seen,  how  far  material  prosperity  and  mere 
humanitarian  culture  (the  life  of  man  in  the  order  of  nature)  can  be 
made  to  follow  their  own  law,  in  harmony  with  the  higher  interests 
of  virtue,  moralit}^,  and  religion.  Here  are  to  be  shown,  in  the  end, 
we  must  believe,  the  mightiest  achievements  of  science,  the  greatest 
wonders  of  art,  the  most  stupendous  victories  in  the  service  of  com- 
merce and  trade.  Above  all  in  interest  for  us,  here  must  be  settled 
the  great  ecclesiastical  issues,  with  which  the  whole  Chi'istian  world 
is  wrestling  at  the  present  time,  and  which  are  felt  by  thousands 
everywhere  to  involve  nothing  less  than  the  question  of  life  or 
death  for  the  universal  cause  of  Christianity  itself. 

Yes,  my  beloved  hearers,  there  is  no  room  now  I  think  to  doubt 
it.  Here  on  this  Western  Continent  is  to  be  the  arena  where  the 
Church  Question,  which  all  truly  earnest  men  feel  and  know  to  be 
the  greatest  question  of  the  age,  is  to  be  fought  out,  if  I  may  use 
the  expression,  to  its  last  consequences  and  results.  We  cannot 
take  our  answer  to  it  quietly'  from  the  Romanism,  or  Anglicanism^ 
nor  the  Continental  Protestantism  of  transatlantic  Europe ;  nor  yet 
from  the  Gneco-Russian  and  other  forms  of  Christianity,  that  chal- 
lenge our  attention  in  the  far  East.  On  the  contrary,  these  older 
church  interests,  if  they  are  to  maintain  their  standing  in  the  world, 
must  throw  themseh'es  into  the  new  conditions  of  our  American 
life,  and  prove  themselves  able  to  master  them,  and  to  bend  them 
to  their  own  service  in  a  free  way.  Christianit}"  here,  of  course,  if 
it  is  to  remain  true  to  itself,  can  never  cease  to  be  historical ;  can 
never  abjure  its  connection  with  the  past;  as  it  is  required  to  do 
by  the  radical  sects  that  are  continually  springing  up  like  mush- 
rooms on  its  path. 

But  neither,  on  the  other  hand,  can  it  be  a  mere  mechanical  out- 
ward tradition.  It  must  enter  into  active  struggle  with  the  seeth- 
ing elements  around  it,  and  assert  its  necessar}^  form,  whatever 
that  may  be,  as  the  "law  of  the  spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus." 
Here  then  the  controversy  betweeen  Christ  and  Antichrist,  the 
mystical  battle  of  Armageddon,  must  be  waged  to  its  ultimate  de- 
cision. That  is  to  be,  of  course,  a  struggle  between  faith  and  un- 
belief. But  the  unbelief,  we  have  reason  to  be  sure,  will  not  be  so 
much  open  infidelity,  as  the  false  show  of  faith  itself — the  meta- 
morphosis of  Satan  into  an  angel  of  light,  opposition  to  the  Gos- 


ClIAP.  XLYII]  COMMENCEMENT   ADDRESS  645 

pel  claiming  to  be  the  truth  and  power  of  the  Gospel  in  its  fullest 
sense. 

And  so  the  ultimate  matter  in  debate  will  not  just  be:  Is  the 
Bible  true  and  worthy  of  confidence  as  God's  word?  but  this 
rather :  Is  Christ  real,  as  the  perpetual  presence  of  a  new  creation 
in  the  world  through  which  onl^'  life  and  immortality  are  brought 
to  light  ?  The  war  will  fall  back  practically  to  the  basis  of  all  pos- 
itive Christianity,  as  we  have  it  set  forth  comprehensively  in  the 
Apostles'  Creed.  The  questions  will  be  at  bottom:  Is  the  Creed 
true  ?  Has  Christ  come  in  the  flesh,  as  is  there  affirmed  ?  Is  what 
we  are  told  of  the  grand  movement  of  the  work  of  redemption  in 
His  Person,  fact  or  figment?  Did  He  indeed  go  down  into  death 
and  hades,  that  He  might  return  again  leading  captivity  captive, 
and  ascend  up  on  high  so  as  to  fill  all  things,  and  to  become  head 
over  all  things  to  the  Church  ?  Is  there  in  virtue  of  all  this  an  or- 
der of  grace  in  the  world — the  mystery  the  Creed  proclaims  in  its 
article  of  the  Church — a  divine  constitution  of  life  and  power  tran- 
scending the  whole  order  of  nature ;  which  as  such  is  a  necessary'- 
object  of  Christian  faith  ;  which  the  gates  of  hell  can  never  prevail 
against ;  and  in  which  alone  are  comprehended  the  redemption  and 
salvation  of  the  world  through  all  time  ? 

These  are  questions  that  go  to  the  very  foundation  of  Chris- 
tianity; and  the  issue  involved  in  them  is  nothing  less  than  the 
general  right  of  Christianity  to  be  regarded  as  a  strictly  supernat- 
ural system  of  religion,  over  against  all  forms  of  natural  or  simply 
humanitarian  religion,  usurping  its  name  and  pretending  to  stand 
in  its  place.  It  will  be,  in  one  word,  the  old  battle  between  ration- 
alism and  faith,  the  powers  of  this  present  world  and  the  powers 
of  the  world  to  come,  advanced  now  to  its  deepest,  most  inward 
and  most  universal  form;  on  which  will  be  found  to  be  staked  the 
truth  of  all  revelation  from  the  beginning;  and  which  in  its  last 
grand  grisis  shall  serve  to  usher  in,  we  may  trust,  the  bright  ap- 
pearing of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  Himself,  when  He 
shall  come  to  lie  gloried  in  His  saints  and  admired  in  all  them  that 
believe. 

All  signs,  thus,  herald  the  a])i)roach  of  a  new  era  in  the  history 
of  the  world,  more  important  than  any  Avhich  has  gone  before;  and 
all  conditions  join  to  show,  that  this  era  is  to  have  its  central  de- 
velopment here,  on  this  Western  Continent,  and  in  the  bosom  of 
our  American  Republic.  But  now,  what  view  are  we  to  take  of  the 
elements,  agencies,  and  forces — political,  moral,  educational,  and 
scientific — which  are  marshalling  themselves  on  such  vast  scale,  on 


646  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

all  sides,  for  the  accomplishment  of  the  might}'  change  that  is  thus 
before  us ;  and  what  judgment  are  we  to  form  of  their  relation 
ultimately  to  that  "end  of  all  things,"  in  which  the  cause  of  Cliris- 
tiauit}^,  if  it  be  of  God,  is  to  come  to  its  final  and  complete  tri- 
umph, as  we  have  just  seen,  over  all  opposing  powers  ?  No  inquiry 
can  well  be  more  interesting  or  practicall}'  solemn  than  this,  how- 
ever difficult,  for  all  who  look  thoughtfully  at  the  present  condition 
of  the  world,  and  desire  in  view  of  it  to  order  their  own  lives  to 
the  wisest  and  best  purpose.  I  can  only  glance  at  the  subject  now 
in  the  most  general  and  cursory  way. 

In  the  view  of  many,  the  revolutionary'  forces  which  are  now 
eA^er3-where  at  work  in  our  modern  civilization,  causing  old  things 
to  pass  away  and  all  things  to  become  new,  are  themselves,  not 
simply  procursive,  but  in  the  fullest  sense  preformative,  of  what  is 
to  be  at  last  the  deliverance  of  the  world  from  its  present  state  of 
bondage  and  sin.  The  redemption  of  humanit}'  is  to  be  reached, 
they  suppose,  through  these  powers  working  themselves  out  to 
their  own  natural  results.  They  see  in  the  political,  social,  scien- 
tific, and  educational  movements  of  the  age,  the  A^ery  factors  of  the 
world's  final  regeneration  ;  and  fondly  dream  and  talk  of  a  "good 
time  coming,"  a  millennium  near  at  hand,  in  which  the  last  sense 
of  Christianity  shall  be  reached,  and  the  tabernacle  of  God  made 
to  be  with  men ;  through  the  triumphs  of  mind  over  matter ;  by 
means  of  steamships,  Atlantic  telegraphs  and  Pacific  railroads  ; 
by  universal  civil  freedom,  universal  knowledge,  universal  brother- 
hood of  races  and  nations,  universal  politico-economical  wisdom — 
making  altogether  a  reign  of  mundane  righteousness,  that  will  show 
itself  a  reign,  at  the  same  time,  of  boundless  outward  prosperity, 
comfort,  and  wealth. 

It  is  easy  especially  to  be  carried  away  with  this  sort  of  think- 
ing, in  looking  at  the  momentous  changes,  which  are  going  forward 
in  our  own  country,  world-significant  as  they  can  be  seen  plainly 
to  be  at  the  present  time,  and  profoundly  linked  as  they  are  no  less 
plainly  with  the  central  power  of  the  world's  life  in  the  form  of 
morality  and  religion.  All  mvist  feel  that  the  power  of  Christianity 
is  deeply  at  work  in  these  wonders.  All  must  feel,  that  if  Chris- 
tianity be  the  end  of  the  ways  of  God  among  men,  these  wonders 
cannot  possibl}^  be  without  reference  to  the  coming  of  His  king- 
dom— that  they  are  in  fact  progressive  victories  and  gains  on  the 
side  of  this  kingdom,  which  are  serving  to  make  room  more  and 
more  for  its  full  ultimate  advent.  And  then  what  more  natural 
than  to  see  in  them  at  once  the  actual  presence  of  Christianity  it- 


Chap.  XLA'II]  commencement  address  647 

self,  working  in  tliera  and  through  them  immediately  to  its  own 
ends,  as  sometliing  identical  with  their  first  and  nearest  significa- 
tion ;  and  thus  to  take  tliem  as  being,  in  and  of  themselves,  true 
manifestations  of  faith  and  righteousness  in  the  highest  Christian 
sense  of  these  terms. 

Thus  loyalt}'  and  patriotism  are  made  to  be  synonymous  with 
devotion  to  the  service  of  God ;  battle-fields  become  the  gate  of 
entrance  into  paradise ;  heroes  are  canonized  into  saints ;  martyrs 
of  liberty  are  exalted  into  martyrs  of  Christ ;  statesmen  and  poli- 
ticians put  themselves  forward  as  the  chosen  prophets  of  God's 
will ;  and  the  march  of  events  (though  it  may  be  but  John  Brown's 
soul  marching  on — God  only  knows  whither),  is  trumpeted  to  the 
four  winds  of  heaven  as  the  stately  goings  of  Jehovah  Jesus  Him- 
self, riding  forth  prosperously'  to  subdue  the  nations  under  His 
feet. 

Thus  in  every  way  the  successful  appliances  of  science,  art,  busi- 
ness, or  politics,  to  the  well-being  of  men  in  the  present  world,  are 
counted  to  be  directly  the  power  of  the  everlasting  Gospel  fulfilling 
with  free  course  its  own  heavenly  mission  ;  and  so  it  comes  to  pass 
that  the  power  of  the  Gospel,  the  cause  of  true  evangelical  religion, 
is  supposed  at  last  to  reside  mainly  in  the  world  under  its  secular 
character,  on  the  outside  of  the  Church  and  her  sacraments  alto- 
gether. Creeds  and  confessions  serve  but  to  retard  the  chariot  of 
salvation.  The  enemies  of  Christianity  claim  to  be  its  heroes  and 
apostles,  its  truest  representatives  and  its  best  expounders ;  and 
the  nominall}'  Christian  world,  alas,  is  found  onl}-  too  willing  on 
all  sides  to  admit  the  claim. 

This,  I  say,  is  the  great  temptation  of  the  age — the  temptation 
of  resolving  the  whole  idea  of  God's  kingdom  in  the  world  into  the 
powers  and  forces  of  the  world  itself,  stirred  and  set  in  motion  by 
the  presence  of  the  higher  life  that  has  been  brought  down  into  it, 
without  being  lifted  still  into  its  true  sphere.  So  it  was  in  the 
beginning  of  Christianity  in  a  more  outward  way,  when  all  the  ele- 
ments of  Grecian  and  Oriental  thought  were  roused  by  it  to  the 
task  of  constructing  new  philosophies,  Gnostic  and  Platonic,  that 
might  take  its  place,  and  do  for  it,  better  than  itself,  its  Heaven- 
commissioned  work.  It  was  hard  then  to  stand  firm  and  fost  in  the 
faitli  of  Christ.  But  now  it  is  harder  still ;  for  the  relation  between 
the  two  orders  of  grace  and  nature,  the  contact  of  one  with  the 
otlier,  has  come  to  be  far  more  inward  and  close  now  than  it  was 
then,  and  the  conflict  involved  in  it  is  for  this  reason,  in  the  same 
proportion,  more  spiritual  and  profound;  so  that  the  ver3-  elect  are 


648  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    18G1-1876  [DiV.  XI 

in  continual  danger  of  being  deceived  b}-  it  to  the  loss  of  their  own 
steadfastness. 

Let  me  then,  in  the  way  of  warning,  reiterate  solemnl3^  on  the 
present  occasion  what  I  have  tried  to  make  the  burden  of  my  teach- 
ing on  this  subject  in  former  years.  Nature  is  not  Grace.  That 
which  is  born  of  the  flesh  is  at  last,  in  its  highest  sublimation,  flesh 
only,  and  not  Spirit.  It  can  never,  in  its  own  order,  save  the  world. 
Ye,  surely,  have  not  so  learned  Christ.  However  the  earth  may 
help  the  Church,  j^ou  know  that  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  the  earth 
to  create  the  Church,  or  to  take  into  its  own  hands  the  office  and 
work  of  the  Church.  The  mastery  of  mind  over  matter,  whether 
in  the  wa}^  of  knowledge  or  of  art,  is  not  in  and  of  itself  the  raising 
of  man  to  glory  and  honor.  The  race  can  never  be  brought  right, 
and  made  to  be  what  it  ought  to  be  by  machinerj^,  or  mere  outward 
social  economy  of  any  sort ;  and  just  as  little  can  it  be  redeemed  by 
politics,  education,  or  science. 

Its  true  regeneration,  if  there  be  truth  in  the  Gospel,  must  come 
ultimately  from  above,  and  not  from  beneath.  Humanitarianism 
is  not  Christianity;  and  the  Gospel  of  such  men  as  Emerson,  Theo- 
dore Parker,  Garrison,  Wendell  Phillips,  and  others  whose  names 
come  easily  to  mind  now  in  the  same  connection,  is  not  the  Gospel 
of  Jesus  Christ  as  it  lies  before  us  in  the  New  Testament.  The  mil- 
lenium  it  promises  is  not  the  reign  of  the  saints  foretold  by  proph- 
ets and  apostles;  and  it  is  only  too  plain,  alas!  that  the  agencies 
and  tendencies  which  are  held  to  be  working  towards  it,  carry  in 
them  no  sure  guaranty  whatever  of  millennial  triumph  in  any  form. 
All  the  signs  of  the  time,  as  we  have  seen,  betoken  universal  and 
fundamental  changes.  But  we  have  no  assurance  in  these  signs,  that 
the  change  will  move  on  victoriously  in  the  line  of  universal  right- 
eousness and  truth. 

On  the  conti'ary,  it  is  all  too  plain  that  the  elements  and  forces, 
which  are  bringing  on  the  new  era,  are  themselves  fraught  with  a 
power  of  evil,  which  ma}^  prove  altogether  too  strong  in  the  end 
for  all  they  appear  to  have  in  them  as  a  power  of  good.  Along 
with  titanic  strength,  we  see  at  work  on  all  sides  titanic  corruption 
and  sin.  The  very  eff'ort  that  is  made  to  scale  the  heavens,  in  the 
way  of  material  aggrandizement  and  politico-social  self-exaltation, 
seems  to  invite  upon  itself  the  thunderbolts  of  Divine  wrath,  and 
to  foreshadow  a  confusion  worse  than  that  of  old  on  the  plains  of 
Shinar.  We  cannot  trust  the  ground  on  which  the  age  is  standing. 
We  know  that  it  is  volcanic.  We  cannot  look  forth  with  full 
securit}'  on  the  bounless  ocean  before  us.     It  may  be — our  hearts 


Chap.  XL^'II]  commencement  address  649 

tell  us — an  oceiin  of  storms  and  wrecks,  more  terrible  tliJin  aii}-  the 
world  has  ever  yet  known. 

This  is  one  lesson  we  are  required  to  take  home  to  ourselves,  in 
the  present  state  of  our  country  and  of  the  world.  But  it  is  not 
the  onl}-  lesson.  We  are  required,  on  the  other  hand,  to  see  and 
feel  that  the  great  things  which  are  now  coming  to  pass  around  us, 
and  looming  into  sight  before  us,  are  indeed  part  of  God's  plan  for 
the  final  bringing  in  of  His  kingdom;  and  that  we,  therefore,  can 
be  true  and  faithful  to  this  cause,  in  our  generation,  only  as  we 
throw  ourselves  with  free  consciousness  into  the  movement,  and 
endeavor  to  work  in  and  through  it  for  Christian  purposes  and 
ends.  We  have  no  right  to  ignore  the  rushing  tide  of  history-,  or 
to  stand  aside  from  the  torrent  with  which  it  is  bearing  all  things 
in  its  own  direction.  Indeed,  we  cannot  do  so,  if  we  would.  For 
history  here  is  be^-ond  all  question  world-history;  and  we  must 
move  and  work  wakingh*  in  the  bosom  of  it,  if  we  are  to  have  any 
real  life  whatever  in  the  life  of  the  world.  This  does  not  mean,  of 
course,  that  we  are  to  surrender  our  minds  blindly  to  the  general 
spirit  of  the  age,  as  being  in  and  of  itself  the  Spirit  of  God  (vox 
populi,  vox  Dei);  or  that  we  are  to  trust  the  movement  of  the  age, 
as  being  at  once  in  its  reigning  factoral  forces  the  wisdom  and 
power  of  God,  working  positively  toward  the  ideal  of  a  perfect 
humanity. 

We  ma}'  fear,  or  we  may  be  sure,  that  the  relation  of  all  to  the 
coming  end  will  be  found  at  last  to  be  that  of  negative,  more  than 
direct  positive,  pi'cparation  for  its  advent;  even  as  the  old  Oriental 
and  Grecian  worlds  prepared  the  way,  in  their  vain  endeavors  "  b}' 
wisdom  to  know  God,"  for  the  coming  of  Christ  in  the  flesh.  But 
even  in  this  view,  the  historical  significance  of  the  movement  can- 
not be  (questioned,  and  we  are  bound  to  take  interest  in  it  accord- 
ingly. We  must  be  children  of  our  countr}-,  and  also  children  of 
our  age.  So  much  is  demanded  of  us,  both  by  our  philosophy  and 
by  our  religion.  Only  let  us  tr}^  to  be  so,  by  the  grace  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  in  such  sort  that  we  shall  be  likewise  all  children  of 
the  light  and  true  sons  of  God,  in  being  at  the  same  time  true  sons 
of  the  Church. 

Among  other  interests  requiring  to  be  held  thus  in  union  and 
correspondence  with  the  vast  advancing  movement  which  is  upon 
us,  the  cause  of  education  especially  deserves  to  be  spoken  of  at 
this  time — being  as  it  is,  the  bond  of  our  Academic  brotherhood, 
and  the  common  interest  which  brings  us  together  on  the  present 
occasion. 
41 


650  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

Like  nil  other  interests  in  the  country,  it  is  thrown  into  agita- 
tion, and  forced  toward  revolutionar}^  change,  by  the  power  of  the 
general  revolution  through  which  the  country  is  now  passing.  It 
is  moving  historically  with  the  movement  of  our  national  historj^ 
at  large.  Evidently  we  have  come  to  a  sort  of  crisis  here  as  else- 
where, and  a  new^  era  of  education  is  breaking  upon  us,  no  less  than 
a  new  era  of  politics  and  religion. 

The  thoughts  of  men  with  regard  to  the  subject  are  expanded  ; 
and  along  with  expanded  thoughts,  are  coming  to  be  revealed  new 
zeal,  new  libert}^,  new  activity,  in  its  service.  Indeed,  one  of  the 
most  striking  features  of  the  time  is  the  disposition  w^hich  has  be- 
gun to  be  shown,  in  ever}-  direction,  to  patronize  and  encourage 
learning  and  education  in  all  forms.  Donations  on  the  part  of  rich 
men,  in  favor  of  literary  institutions,  ai^e  growing  to  be  munificent, 
in  some  cases  even  princely.  The  scale  of  college  endowments, 
and  college  organizations,  is  everywhere  enlarged.  Even  in  our 
own  State,  proverbially  slow  and  niggardl}'  heretofore  in  the  cause 
of  letters,  a  new  spirit  is  showing  itself  at  work.  Normal  schools 
and  collegiate  academies  are  with  us  now  the  order  of  the  day.  All 
our  old  colleges  are  seeking  to  double  their  strength ;  while  the 
munificence  of  one  man  has  planted  on  the  banks  of  the  Lehigh 
lately  a  new  institution,  which  threatens  at  a  single  bound  to  sur- 
pass the  foundations  of  the  whole  of  them  together. 

But  it  is  not  only  the  outward  economy  of  education  tliat  is  un- 
dergoing enlargement  and  change  in  this  way.  Still  more  worthy 
of  note  is  the  corresponding  change  that  is  going  forward  in  its 
inward  economy.  This  is  still  more  directly  the  result  of  the  gen- 
eral revolution  in  which  the  age  is  involved, and  shows  more  signifi- 
cantly at  the  same  time  its  ruling  character  and  drift.  All  the 
conditions  of  the  age,  all  the  conditions  especiall}^  of  our  American 
life,  carr3'ing  in  its  bosom  at  this  time,  as  we  have  seen,  the  inmost 
and  deepest  historical  forces  of  the  age,  form  in  themselves  for  the 
minds  of  men  what  may  be  called  a  powerful  determination  now 
toward  outward  and  material  interests,  the  conquering  of  nature, 
the  arts  and  methods  of  political  well-being, — in  one  word,  the  re- 
duction of  the  present  world  in  every  way  to  the  service  of  the 
human  race.  Hence  the  demand,  on  all  sides,  for  forms  of  educa- 
tion, that  shall  be  found  ministering  everywhere  directly  to  this 
general  object ;  and  in  conformity  with  it,  as  we  see,  all  manner  of 
attempts  to  bring  our  schools  and  colleges  into  line  with  what  is 
thus  felt  to  be  the  inevitable  law  of  the  age.  Hence  new  courses 
of  stud}'  all  over  the  land,  in  which  the  practical  and  utilitarian 


Chap.  XLVII]  commencement  address  651 

figure  as  the  main  thing  in  science,  and  learning  is  made  to  resolve 
itself,  in  great  measure,  into  the  knowledge  simpl}'  of  matter  and 
nature. 

A  striking  illustration  of  the  power  this  way  of  thinking  has 
among  us  may  be  found  in  the  Smifhsonian  Instifufion,  standing 
as  it  does  in  some  sense  at  the  head  of  our  educational  interests. 
According  to  the  terms  of  its  magnificent  endowment  it  was 
founded  for  the  Increase  and  Diffusion  of  Knoivledge  among  3Ien. 
In  the  organization  of  it,  we  are  told,  "no  restriction  is  made  in 
favor  of  any  kind  of  knowledge,  and  hence  each  branch  is  entitled 
to,  and  should  receive  a  share  of  attention."  That  is  the  theory. 
But  see,  now,  how  it  has  been  carried  into  effect.  From  the  com- 
mencement of  its  operations  in  1847,  down  to  the  present  time,  it 
seems  to  have  been  quietl}'  assumed  that  the  increase  of  knowledge 
among  men  must  be  taken  to  meart  onl}-  the  promotion  of  science 
under  its  predominantly  physical  aspects  ;  and  the  "  Smithsonian 
Contributions,"  accordingly,  are  found  to  be  devoted  to  this  object 
throughout,  with  no  recognition  whatever,  apparentl}',  of  the  ne- 
cessity of  science  under  any  other  form.  Physical  Geography, 
Coast  Surve3-s,  Aboriginal  Monuments,  Palivontolog}-,  Geology, 
Zoology,  Botany,  Magnetic  and  Meteorological  Observations, 
Chemistry,  Mineralogy,  Agriculture,  and  the  Application  of  Science 
to  Arts;  these,  and  kindred  subjects,  engross  the  activit}'  and  the 
income  of  the  Institution  ;  while  all  that  is  comprehended  in  the 
culture  of  Mind  for  its  own  sake.  Morality,  Humane  Literature, 
Metaphysics,  and  Philosophy'  in  all  its  branches  and  forms,  is  si- 
lently ignored  and  forgotten,  as  having  nothing  to  do  with  the  in- 
crease and  diffusion  of  knowledge  among  men  in  an}-  way.  The 
fact  is  curious,  certainly,  and  significant;  and  ma}-  be  taken  as  a 
l)roclamation  to  the  world,  on  a  large  scale,  of  what  Science,  Edu- 
cation and  Progress  are  coming  more  and  more  to  mean  for  the 
spirit  of  the  Nineteenth  Century,  as  it  is  now  sweeping  all  things 
before  it  in  the  new^-born  life  of  these  United  States. 

It  is  no  business  of  ours  to  denounce  or  oppose  the  change,  by 
which  other  colleges  are  seeking  to  adapt  themselves  to  the  educa- 
tional demands  of  this  spirit  at  the  present  time.  Let  us  hope  that 
all  such  experiments  may  work  toward  good  ultimatel}'  in  some 
wa}-.  It  is  enough  for  us  to  know  that  we,  as  the  friends  of  Frank- 
lin and  Marshall  College,  are  not  called  upon  to  fall  in  with  the 
movement.  Our  circumstances  do  not  allow  us  to  cope,  if  we  would, 
with  the  stronger  bids  that  are  made  fur  popular  favor  in  this  form; 
and  there  is  no  need  or  occasion  for  us   to  be  putting   forth  our 


I 


052  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1870         "  [DlV.  XI 

strength  for  what  cfin  be  more  effectually  accomplished  from  other 
quarters.  Our  Avocation,  too,  it  is  plain,  is  altogether  different.  If 
we  are  to  be  of  any  account  in  the  cause  of  learning  and  education, 
it  must  be  b}-  our  holding  on  steadfastlj'  to  what  has  been  the  reign- 
ing purpose  and  character  of  this  institution  from  the  beginning ; 
and  instead  of  finding  in  the  present  bearing  of  things  a  reason  for 
changing  our  course,  we  should  see  in  it  rather  only  new  reason  for 
our  continuing  unswervingl}'  true  to  it  to  the  last. 

For  if  the  general  bearing  of  the  age  be,  in  the  way  we  have  seen, 
more  and  more  toward  merely  material  interests  and  outward  ends, 
it  is  but  all  the  more  necessary  that  our  testimon}',  if  it  has  been 
worth  anything  heretofore,  in  favor  of  education  for  its  own  sake 
and  for  purel}'  spiritual  or  inward  ends,  should  not  now  be  relaxed, 
but  be  made,  if  possible,  more  firm  than  ever.  This,  especially,  is 
needed  at  the  present  time;  and  in  no  other  waj^  possibly  can  we, 
with  our  resources  and  opportunities,  do  better  service  to  our  coun- 
tiy  and  our  generation. 

Let  it  be  our  ambition,  then,  and  our  care,  to  maintain  in  vigor- 
ous force  here,  an  institution  that  shall  be  devoted  supremely  to 
liberal  education,  in  the  old  and  proper  sense  of  the  term;  liberal, 
as  being  free  from  all  bondage  to  merely  outside  references  and 
ends,  and  as  having  to  do,  first  of  all,  with  the  enlargement  of  the 
mind  in  its  own  sphere.  This,  after  all,  must  remain  the  true  con- 
ception of  education  forever.  We  need  not  quarrel  with  other 
forms  of  knowledge  and  skill,  that  are  held  with  man}'  now  to  carr}' 
with  them  the  whole  force  of  the  name.  Let  them  pass  for  what 
the}^  are  actually  worth,  in  their  utilitarian,  practical,  and  profes- 
sional sphere.  But  no  such  forms  of  knowledge  can  ever  be  suffi- 
cient, of  themselves,  to  complete  the  organization  of  a  true  human 
culture.  Underneath  all  such  practical  superstructure,  if  it  is  to 
stand,  must  be  at  least  a  basis  of  solid  spiritual  thought;  and  if 
many,  in  their  studies,  make  all  in  all  of  the  outward,  it  will  only 
be  the  more  necessarj"  always  that  some  (though  few)  make  all  in 
all  of  the  inward. 

In  such  a  time  as  ours  especially,  and  in  view  of  the  grand  his- 
torical crisis,  through  which,  as  a  nation,  we  are  now  passing,  it  is 
all-important  that  the  working  spirit  of  the  countiy  should  be 
leavened,  to  some  wholesome  extent,  by  a  corresponding  thinking 
spirit.  Never  was  there  a  time,  when  there  was  more  room  or  more 
need  for  education,  regarded  simpl}'  as  a  discipline  of  the  soul  for  its 
own  sake.  Agriculture,  mining,  and  civil  engineering,  are  of  vast 
account ;  but  not  of  so  much  account,  b}'  any  means,  as  the  develop- 


Chap.  XLVII]  commencement  address  653 

inent  of  a  strong  and  free  spirit  in  men  themselves.  It  still  remains 
true,  us  in  all  ages,  that  ideas  are  the  deepest  power  in  the  world; 
and  the  most  salutary  forces  of  the  world's  life  will  ever  be  found 
to  be,  in  the  end,  not  those  which  men  are  enabled  to  draw  from 
the  storehouses  of  nature,  and  in  this  way,  as  it  were,  from  beyond 
themselves,  but  from  those  that  are  comprehended  in  the  right 
ordering  and  pi'oper  constitution  of  their  own  minds.  There  lies 
the  end  emphatically  of  all  true  education. 

Let  it  not  be  imagined,  hoAvever,  that  in  thus  opposing  the 
spiritual  to  the  phj^sical,  I  mean  to  discourage  the  study  of  nature, 
or  to  detract  from  its  importance  in  a  course  of  academical  training. 
For  us  in  this  world, the  spiritual  depends  everywhere  on  the  ph\'s- 
ical,  has  its  root  in  the  physical,  starts  forth  from  the  physical, 
and  is  qualified  and  conditioned  by  the  physical  throughout.  There 
can  be,  therefore,  no  effectual  study  of  mind  that  is  not  grounded, 
first  of  all,  in  the  stud}-  of  nature;  and  so,  of  course,  no  thorough 
or  complete  education,  without  the  natural  sciences.  In  this  view, 
the  zeal  which  is  now  shown  in  favor  of  these  sciences,  and  the 
wonderful  success  with  which  they  are  pursued,  are  a  matter  for 
congratulation;  and  form  unquestionably  one  of  those  pregnant 
signs  of  the  time,  which  we  are  bound  wisely  to  respect  and  turn 
to  account,  in  seeking  to  give  historical  direction  to  anj-  part  we 
ma}'  take  in  the  cause  of  education  at  the  present  time. 

All  we  need  to  protest  against  in  the  case  is  the  insanity  of 
making  nature,  in  its  own  sphere,  the  end  of  all  knowledge;  the 
madness  of  imagining,  that  moral  interest  can  ever  be  subordinated 
safely  to  material  interests;  the  wild  hallucination  of  dreaming, 
that  the  great  battle  and  work  of  life  for  man  is  to  be  accomplished 
by  physics  and  mechanics,  by  insight  simply  into  the  laws  of  nature 
and  mastery  of  its  powers,  by  chemistr}^  geology,  mineralog}', 
metallurgy,  and  other  such  studies,  b}-  polytechnic  ingenuit}'  and 
skill  a[)plied  in  all  manner  of  ways  to  business  and  trade.  There 
is  a  higher  view  than  all  this,  in  which  the  stud}'  of  nature  becomes 
itself  the  study  of  mind,  and  the  material  meets  us  everywhere  as 
the  sacrament  of  the  spiritual  and  divine.  It  is  the  view  presented 
to  us  in  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis,  where  all  lower  forms  of  crea- 
tion are  described  as  rising  organicall}',  stage  after  stage,  to  the 
completion  of  their  full  sense  ultimately  in, man;  from  the  light  of 
whose  presence  then,  thrown  back  upon  time,  they  come  to  be 
ii  radiated  with  a  portion  of  the  same  glor}'  that  belongs  to  man 
himself  as  the  image  of  God.  It  is  easy  to  see  how,  in  such  view, 
room  is  made  in  our  scheme  of  a  liberal  education  for  the  lamest 


654  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DlV.  XI 

use  of  natural  science;  how  it  is,  that  there  can  l)e  no  right  phil- 
osophy of  spirit,  which  is  not,  at  the  same  time,  a  philosophy-  of 
nature  in  its  profoundest  sense ;  how  physics  and  metaphysics  go 
hand  in  hand  together,  each  helping  the  other  to  its  proper  perfec- 
tion, and  both  joining  to  bear  the  soul  up  finally  to  those  emp^-rean 
heights,  where  knowledge  ends  in  religion,  and  the  vision  of  the 
world  is  made  complete  in  the  vision  of  Him  who  is  before  all 
worlds — the  same  yesterday,  to-da}-,  and  forever. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII 

TIIK  IVesli  start  initiated  at  Lancaster  to  promote  the  present  and 
fntnre  prosperity  of  the  College  was  a  genuine  one,  and  it  was 
felt  throughout  the  Eastern  part  of  the  Church.  It  formed  indeed 
an  epoch.  The  Synod  gave  it  a  full  endorsement,  and  adopted  meas- 
ures to  co-operate  with  the  Board  of  Trustees  in  a  united  effort  to 
carry  out  its  wishes  on  a  generous  and  liberal  scale.  But  the  inter- 
est thus  excited  became  diverted,  to  a  certain  extent,  towards  other 
educational  interests  in  the  Church,  which  were  supposed  to  have 
Ijrior  claims  at  the  time,  and  which  utilized,  iu  some  degree,  the 
energy  which  had  been  developed  at  Lancaster  and  in  the  Synod. 
Morcersburg  College  at  Mercersburg,  and  LTrsinus  College  at  Col- 
legeville.  Pa.,  sprang  into  existence  and  evinced  considerable 
strength  and  zeal  in  the  cause  of  education.  These  things,  al- 
though discouraging  and  disappointing  to  Dr.  Xevin  at  the  time, 
did  not,  however,  after  all  seriously  affect  the  movement  in  favor  of 
the  central  institution  of  the  Church  at  Lancaster.  Committees 
went  to  work  to  devise  the  necessary  machinery  by  w  liich  contri- 
butions, large  and  small,  might  be  made  towards  the  College. 

Some  difficulties  were  experienced  in  finding  a  strong  and  vigor- 
ous agent  to  undertake  the  work :  and  as  there  was  no  one  apparent- 
ly forthcoming,  such  an  one  as  Mr.  Leonard  already  referred  to,  Dr. 
Wolff,  one  of  the  Trustees,  agreed  to  take  it  in  hand  for  the  time, 
without  an}'  compensation  for  his  services.  He  had  succeeded  Dr. 
Nevin  in  the  theological  chair  at  Mercersburg,  had  just  resigned  his 
position  as  Professor,  and  had  removed  to  Lancaster  to  spend  the  re- 
mainder of  his  da3-s  in  retirement.  He  was  then  in  his  seventy -third 
year,  and  although  failing  in  i)hysical  strength,  his  interest  and  zeal 
for  the  institutions  of  the  Church  were  as  vigorous  as  ever.  At  the 
annual  meeting  of  the  Board,  in  1867,  he  reported  that,  although  he 
had  not  been  able  to  devote  much  time  to  the  work,  yet  in  a  few 
places,  including  Easton  and  Phila(k'li)hia,  lie  had  already  secured 
over  $1(5,000  in  subscriptions  for  endowment  and  new  buildings. 
His  methods  of  operation  as  agent  were  somewhat  peculiai-.  In  his 
report  he  said  tiiat  "he  had  in  no  instance  sought  to  persuade  aii}' 
l)erson  to  give:  that  he  simply  presented  the  claims  of  the  College 
to  their  support,  and  left  them  to  give  or  not  give  at  their  pleasure, 
and  tliat  with  a  single  exception  no  one  po-iitively  declined  to  give." 

(  G55  ) 


656  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

In  a  certain  case  a  party  at  Easton,  Pa.,  where  he  had  been  pastor 
at  one  time,  had  decided  to  give  even  before  the}'  heard  his  state- 
ments. They  nnderstood  that  he  intended  to  make  them  a  visit, 
and  so  they  had  set  apart  their  doUars  by  the  hundreds  for  him 
when  he  came. 

It  was  his  good  fortune  to  secure  $35,000  from  a  wealthy  gentle- 
man in  Philadelphia  by  a  single  visit.  Mr.  Lewis  Audenried  by 
his  industry,  energy  and  good  business  habits  had  amassed  a 
large  fortune,  was  a  bachelor,  was  in  some  respects  peculiar,  and 
not  always  accessible  to  those  who  called  on  him  for  pecuniary 
contributions.  Dr.  Wolff  had  never  seen  him,  and  although  not  by 
any  means  encouraged  b}-  others  to  call  on  him,  under  some  sort 
of  inspiration,  he  felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to  go  and  see  him  at  least. 
Mr.  Audenried  received  him  courteously,  and  informed  him  that  he 
had  heard  him  preach  a  sermon  many  years  before  in  Philadephia 
before  the  Presb^^terian  Synod  which  he  had  never  forgotten,  and 
that  he  still  remembered  very  distinctly  his  features.  He  was, 
therefore,  a  welcome  visitor.  After  he  had  explained  to  him  the 
object  of  his  visit,  he  told  him  that  he  was  just  the  person  with 
whom  he  wished  to  confer.  It  was  his  wish  to  leave  a  legacy  to 
the  Church,  but  he  did  not  exactly  know  to  what  particular  object 
or  cause  he  should  devote  it,  where  it  would  be  safe,  where  it  would 
be  the  means  of  doing  the  most  good,  and  therefore  he  wished  for 
information.  When  Dr.  Wolff  explained  to  him  the  central  rela- 
lation  of  the  College  and  told  him  that  its  Board  of  Trustees  had 
never  lost  a  dollar  hy  injudicious  investments,  he  was  satisfied ;  and 
when  it  was  suggested  to  him  that  it  would  be  well  to  endow  a 
professorship  in  the  College,  he  said  he  would  do  so.  The  result 
was  communicated  to  Dr.  Nevin  and  to  one  or  two  other  reliable 
persons,  but  bej'ond  this  inner  circle  it  remained  a  profound  secret 
— by  special  respect — until  Mr.  Audenried 's  death  in  1874,  when  it 
appeared  that  in  his  will,  in  addition  to  various  other  benevolent 
bequests,  he  had  bequeathed  $85,000  for  the  endowment  of  a  pro- 
fessorship in  Franklin  and  Marshall  College,  adding  as  his  wish 
that  his  pastor.  Rev.  J.  H.  Dubbs,  should  be  its  first  occupant.  Dr. 
Dubbs,  accordingly,  was  elected  to  fill  the  Audenried  Professorship 
of  Historj'  and  Archseolog}'  in  the  College  in  18'75,  and  since  then 
by  his  scholarship  and  literary  tastes  he  has  shown  superior  quali- 
fications for  the  position. 

During  the  year  1867,  Dr.  Nevin  wrote  to  William  L.  Baer,  Esq., 
of  Somerset,  Pa.,  an  earnest  letter,  in  which  he  set  forth  the  im- 
portance of  giving  the  College  at  Lancaster  an  ample  endowment. 


Chap.  XLVIII]  the  wilhelm  family  GST 

earnestly  urging  Iiini  and  others  Aworuble  to  the  movement  to 
unite  in  the  effort  to  concentnite  the  energies  of  the  Church  so  as 
to  phice  it  on  n  generous  and  enhirged  basis.  Mr.  Baer  showed 
the  letter  to  the  Rev.  A.  B.  Koplin,  Reformed  pastor  in  the  south- 
ern part  of  the  county,  and  together  the}"  read  it  to  the  Wilhelm 
family,  consisting  of  two  brothers  and  one  sister,  living  together  as 
one  household  and  somewhat  advanced  in  3'ears.  They  pointed  out 
to  them  the  necessity,  and  the  importance  of  having  at  least  one 
strong,'  well  endowed  institution  in  the  Church,  and  Mr.  Baer  il- 
lustrated this  point  b}-  adding  that  "  it  was  better  to  have  one  noble 
lion  than  a  whole  cage  full  of  lighting  raccoons,"  which  was  an 
apt  illustration,  as  the  Wilhelms  did  not  live  far  from  the  Alle- 
ghenies.  Xo  immediate  effect  seemed  to  have  been  produced,  either 
b}'  the  argument  or  the  illustration,  and  it  took  3'ears  before  the 
plant  brought  forth  its  fruit  in  its  season.  Its  growth,  progress 
and  fruition,  form  an  interesting  chapter,  in  which  Dr.  Xevin,  as 
President  of  the  College,  was,  to  a  large  extent,  the  animating 
spirit;  and  we  present  it  here  as  an  excursus,  which  may  serve  per- 
haps as  a  diversion  of  mind,  to  those  especially  who  have  been  fol- 
lowing him  in  his  tlieanthropic,  christological,  philosophical  and 
churchl}'  speculations. 

Sometime  in  1868  Dr.  Wolff  learned  from  the  papers  that  the 
Wilhelm  family  had  already-  bequeathed  their  earthly  possessions 
to  various  objects  connected  with  the  Church,  without  uny  regard 
to  the  Institutions  at  Lancaster.  This  seemed  somewhat  strange 
to  him.  However,  wishing  to  know  the  truth  of  the  matter,  he 
wrote  to  Mr.  William  L.  Baer,  the  legal  adviser  of  the  Wilhelms,  for 
more  reliable  information,  who  stated  in  reply  that  they  had  not  as 
yet,bv  will,  made  any  distribution  of  their  property*,  and  expressed 
some  surprise  that  the  College  at  Lancaster  had  not  done  more  to 
press  its  claims  upon  the  attention  of  these  people.  It  is  said  that 
a  will  had,  indeed,  been  made  for  them  in  due  form,  but  that  their 
names  had  not  been  annexed  to  it.  Dr. '^^"olff  felt  too  infirm  at  the 
time  to  travel  any  distance,  and,  accordingh-.  he  requested  the  au- 
thor, then  Secretary  of  the  Faculty  at  Lancaster,  to  visit  the  Wil- 
helms, and  take  with  him  a  letter  from  Dr.  Xevin.  urging  them  to  en- 
dow a  professorshi})  in  the  College.  Through  ]\[r.  Baer  he  received 
an  invitation  to  assist  in  laying  the  corner-stone  of  a  new  church  near 
their  residence,  which  it  was  supposed  would  give  him  a  suitable 
opi)ortunity  to  carry  out  the  object  of  his  visit,  without  exciting- 
special  in([uiiv  in  any  direction.  He  arrived  there  in  time  to  take 
part   in  the  ceremony,  and   in   his  discourse  on  the  occasion  he  did 


658  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

not  forget  to  say  that,  with  the  exception  of  ministers  of  the  Gos- 
pel, it  was  tlie  dut}'  of  Christians  generallj-  to  malie  as  much  money 
as  possible,  provided  they  did  it  honestly,  and  employed  it  in  the 
promotion  of  good  and  useful  objects,  without  setting  their  hearts 
on  it.  The  doctrine  seemed  to  be  somewhat  new,  but  it  was  regarded 
as  altogether  sound  and  satisfactor}^,  especiallj'  to  those  who  were 
regarded  as  rather  covetous  by  their  neighbors. 

The  morning  following  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone,  the  writer, 
in  company  with  Mr.  Baer,  Rev.  A.  B.  Koplin,  the  pastor,  Rev. 
George  H.  Johnston,  Mr.  Baer's  pastor,  and  perhaps  one  or  two  oth- 
ers, went  out  early  from  Elk  Lick  to  see  the  Wilhelms,  and  found 
the  two  brothers,  Benjamin  and  Peter,  busy  in  directing  the  workmen 
at  the  new  building.  We  informed  them  that  we  had  a  letter  from 
Dr.  Nevin,and  thej^told  us  to  read  it  for  them.  They  had  heard  of 
him  as  one  who,  like  themselves,  was  opposed  to  fanatical  sects,  and 
the}'  both  seemed  to  be  pleased.  The  letter  was  earnest  and  simple 
in  language,  asking  them  to  endow  a  professorship  in  Franklin  and 
Marshall  College,  amounting  to  $2.5,000.  We  read  slowly  and  de- 
liberatel3^  scanning  their  features  closely  when  we  came  to  mention 
the  amount  of  money  which  they  were  asked  to  give;  but,  instead 
of  an}^  indication  of  surprise  or  dissent  on  their  countenances,  we 
siaw  the  workings  only  of  serious  thought.  After  we  had  finished 
reading  and  made  a  few  additional  explanatory  remarks,  there  was 
a  deep  pause,  which  we,  in  our  simplicity,  hoped  might  be  followed 
by  a  favorable  response.  At  length  Benjamin,  pointing  to  their 
pastor,  Mr.  Koplin,  told  us  that  he  was  their  friend — er  ist  unser 
Freund — bj'  which  he  meant  to  say  that  they  would  consult  with 
him  in  regard  to  the  matter.  This  was  satisfactory  as  far  as  it 
went,  as  we  knew  that  both  he  and  their  lawyer,  Mr.  Baer,  had 
already  urged  them  to  invest  a  portion  of  their  estate  in  the  Institu- 
tions at  Lancaster,  as  the  place  where  it  would  be  safe  and  most 
fruitful  in  the  future.  We  thought  of  remaining  on  the  ground  for 
several  days,  a  week  or  longer,  if  necessary,  in  order  to  follow  up 
the  effect  of  the  letter  missive ;  but  Mr.  Baer  told  us  that  nothing 
further  useful  could  be  done  at  that  time,  and  we  followed  his  ad- 
vice, which  we  afterward  discovered  was  the  best.  We  returned 
home  pretty  confident  that  a  favorable  response  would  be  sent  to 
Lancaster,  at  most,  within  a  3'ear,  in  which  we  were  fortunately 
doomed  to  be  disappointed. 

From  the  Rev.  Mr.  Koplin  we  received  a  histor}'  of  the  Wilhelm 
famil}',  which  we  here  repeat,  believing  it  will  be  interesting  to  our 
readers.    There  were  two  brothers,  Benjamin  and  Peter,  and  a  sister 


Chap.  XLYIII]  the  wiliielm  family  659 

Maiy  or  Polly,  Jill  three  uinnarrie(l,who  resided  together  in  the  spa- 
cious old  log  house  in  'which  they  had  been  born.  In  some  wa3-  they 
held  their  property  in  common.  By  their  industry  and  economical 
habits  they  had  prospered  greatly,  adding  farm  to  fiirra  until  they 
were  the  joint  possessors  of  over  3,200  acres  of  land.  Their  parents 
were  of  Reformed  and  Lutheran  origin,  and  retained  their  churchly 
traditions.  Thej'^  were  Avont  to  rent  their  farms  only  to  church 
people,  trying  in  this  way  to  keep  fanatical  sectaries  at  as  great  a 
distance  as  possible.  As  they  had  heard  that  Dr.  Nevin  entertained 
similar  views  in  regard  to  the  sects,  their  respect  for  his  name  was 
increased.  They  were,  however,  rather  worldly  people,  baj)tized 
sheep  astray  out  in  the  wilderness,  at  a  considerable  distance  from 
any  church  of  their  own  kind,  and  seldom  attending  divine  worship 
anywhere,  until  they  were  well  advanced  in  years.  In  this  state  of 
affairs,  in  the  3ear  1859,  it  so  happened  that  Pastor  Koplin,  of  Elk 
Lick,  a  village  four  miles  distant  from  their  residence,  preached  on 
a  Sunday  afternoon  in  their  neighborhood,  and  as  it  turned  out,  the 
brothers  attended  the  service.  They  heard  the  voice  of  this  shep- 
herd gladl}',  and  declared  that,  of  all  others  whom  they  had  heard, 
he  was  the  man  for  them — Er  ist  der  Mann  f  iter  iins. 

They  requested  him  to  preach  regularly  for  them  in  their  school- 
house.  A  catechetical  class  of  some  twent}'  persons  was  formed, 
and  weekly  instruction  imparted  in  the  school-house  from  week  to 
week,  which  the  Wilhems  attended  with  many  of  the  3^oung  people. 
They  became  much  interested  in  what  was  said  to  them,  and  tried 
to  interest  others  also  to  attend  these  instructions.  On  horseback 
they  rode  up  and  down  the  mountain,  urging  people,  j'oung  and 
old,  not  in  the  Church,  to  come  and  attend  instruction — Die 
Kinderlehre.  The^' told  mothers  and  fathers,  that  they  themselves 
had  neglected  this  duty  too  long — until  tliey  had  become  gray- 
haired — but  now  they  urged  all  otiiers  not  to  do  as  they  had  done. 

In  the  Fall  of  1859,  a  congregation  consisting  of  five  members 
was  organized,  and  twent3'-one  catechumens  were  confirmed.  Ben- 
jamin was  then  elected  as  Elder,  and  Peter  as  Deacon.  The  little 
fiock  grew  in  numbers,  and  in  1803  it  was  decided  to  build  a  new 
church  for  its  accommodation ;  but  as  Mr.  Koi)lin  was  called 
into  another  field  of  usefulness,  the  matter  was  postjjoned  for  the 
time  being.  In  18(51  the  old  pastor  agreed  to  return  to  his  former 
cliJirge,  provided,  if  he  should  accept  of  the  call,  a  new  church 
would  be  erected.  The  promise  was  immediatel}'  made,  and  the 
former  pleasant  pastoral  relation  was  renewed.  The  corner-stone  of 
the  new  Diurch  was  laid  in  June,  1808,  but  it  was  not  consecrated 


660  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

until  October,  1869.  In  fill  it  cost  $14,000,  of  which  amount  the 
Wilhelms  contributed  over  $11,000;  and  in  addition  they  presented 
to  the  congregation  a  fine  organ,  which,  according  to  their  churchly 
feelings,  they  regarded  as  a  matter  of  the  utmost  importance. 

The  Wilhelms  told  their  neighbors  to  contribute  according  to 
their  means  for  this  object  and  they  would  do  the  rest,  give  the 
ground  and  pay  the  balance  still  due  on  the  new  house  when  it 
was  consecrated.  They  faithfully  kept  their  woixl,  and  did  not 
hesitate  at  any  expense — not  even  in  getting  the  best  cut-stone — 
in  making  it  the  best  looking  structure,  internally  and  externally 
considered,  in  the  count3\  The  church  stands  on  an  elevation,  not 
far  from  the  old  Wilhelm  homestead,  and  presents  quite  an  inter- 
esting and  suggestive  contrast  to  travelers  as  they  pass  bv  in  the 
railroad  cars  below, — a  monument  trul}'  of  Christian  charity. 
It  was  consecrated  in  October,  1869,  on  which  occasion  Dr.  Nevin 
had  the  honor  of  preaching  the  dedicatory  sermon.  He  was 
the  man  whom  tlie  Wilhelms  liked  to  see  in  the  pulpit;  and  Peter 
particularly,  without  understanding  all  that  he  said,  was  pleased 
with  his  straight-forward,  free  and  unhesitating  manner  of  speak- 
ing, and  said  that  he  agreed  with  him  full}'  in  his  ideas  of  religion, 
which  always  avoided  opposite  extremes.  Dr.  Nevin  received  many 
ovations  during  this  trip,  and  doubtless  returned  home  with  the 
expectation  of  some  tangible  result  from  it  before  long,  but  like  his 
secretary,  he  too  was  fortunately  doomed  to  be  disappointed.  The 
time  had  not  yet  come.  The  movement  was  a  reality,  and  it  must 
have  an  historical  development,  according  to  his  own  philosophy, 
and  he  with  others  had  to  wait  for  years  with  patience  and  sub- 
mission to  the  Divine  Will  until  it  came  to  maturity. 

The  Rev.  Koplin,  a  ver}^  prominent  figure  in  this  history,  had 
hailed  from  the  West,  was  an  aggressive  and  pi'ogressive  man,  but 
always  willing  to  learn.  The  Messrs.  Baer,  of  Somerset,  William 
and  Herman,  both  able  lawyers,  took  an  interest  in  him,  and  suggest- 
ed to  him  to  study  the  theology  of  the  Eastern  part  of  the  Church, 
in  which  he  seemed  at  first  to  be  rather  crude  and  defective.  He 
commenced  to  read  Dr.  Nevin 's  Mystical  Presence,  with  other 
productions  of  his  pen,  and  for  a  time  he  became  a  most  diligent 
student  of  theology,  until  he  caught  up  fully  to  his  teachers  at 
Somerset. 

He  gradually-  identified  himself  with  the  Church  in  the  East  and 
wrote  to  Dr.  Nevin  for  advice  in  regard  to  the  Wilhelm  estate,  who 
explained  to  him  fully  the  situation,  and  urged  upon  him  the 
necessity  and   importance  of  endowing  first   the  more   full}^  the 


Chap.  XLYIII]  the  rev.  a.  b.  kuplin  661 

mother  schools  at  Lfincaster.  This  led  to  a  correspondence  that 
continued  for  some  time,  which  was  as  pleasant  to  the  one  part^-  as 
it  was  profitable  to  the  other. 

It  Avas  in  this  way  that  he  became  interested  in  the  institutions  at 
Lancaster,  and  was  led,  as  if  b^-  a  monition  from  above,  to  devote 
all  the  energies  of  his  enthusiastical  nature  to  strengthen  these  foun- 
tains of  learning  in  the  East — in  season  and  out  of  season.  It 
was  with  him  a  cherished  idea,  an  inspiratiou,  which  might  have  led 
him,  at  times,  to  exert  an  undue  force  upon  tlie  progress  of  events ; 
but  if  there  was  anj-  danger  in  this  direction,  he  met  with  sahitar}' 
restraints  from  his  monitors,  the  cool-headed  lawyers  at  Somerset, 
who  had  an  intelligent  ftiith  in  history-,  understood  human  nature, 
and  felt  confident  that  the  "Wilhelms  would  do  their  part  when  their 
time  came. — In  a  letter  to  the  author  he  writes  thus  :  "  I  was  urged 
to  give  m3-  influence  with  the  Wilhelms  to  devote  their  property 
to  some  new  enterprise — not  to  Lancaster — and  I  was  punished  for 
not  doing  so  in  more  ways  than  one.  I  have,  however,  the  satis- 
faction of  knowMng  that  I  did  my  dutj^  from  love  to  the  true  inter- 
ests of  the  Church,  and  that  in  the  Lord's  own  good  time  there 
will  be  honor  to  whom  honor  is  due."  There  were  those  who  dif- 
fered from  him  no  doubt  honestl}",  who  thought  that  this  accumu- 
lation of  wealth  should  be  retained  for  iiseful  purposes  in  the 
county  or  elsewhere  ;  but  he  was  honest  and  sincere  also,  and  as  a 
spiritual  counsellor  he  was  perfectly  justifiable  in  advising  his 
wealthy  parishioners  to  dispose  of  their  earthlv  possessions  in  a 
manner  that  he  thought  would  be  most  useful  to  the  Church  and 
the  cause  of  Christ. 

William — now  Judge  Baer — understood  them  and  had  secured 
their  confidence  also  as  their  legal  adviser — from  the  time  he  had 
delivered  a  political  stump-speech  in  their  neighborhood  in  flowing 
"Pennsylvania  Dutch,"  which  they  understood  better  than  an^-- 
thing  else.  He  thought  it  was  the  part  of  wisdom  to  strengthen 
the  old  Institution  at  Lancaster,  rather  than  to  start  a  new  one  in 
the  western  part  of  the  State,  whose  future  at  best  was  uncertain. 

The  ver}'  positive  position  of  the  pastor  loci  continued  to  subject 
him  to  a  considerable  amount  of  discomfort  in  his  parochial  charge. 
At  length  to  his  extreme  regret  Pastor  Koplin  found  it  necessary 
to  withdraw  from  his  pastoral  field  in  Somerset  county.  He  did 
so  with  the  advice  of  the  Wilhehns,  as  he  no  longer  received  an  ade- 
quate sui)i)ort  for  himself  and  family.  He  carried  with  him,  how- 
ever, tlieir  confidence  and  be  retained  it  to  the  end,  through  pastoral 
letters  or  friendly  correspondence.     Fortunately,  he  was  succeeded 


662  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

in  his  cliarge  b}'  a  pastor  with  views  similar  to  his  own,  the  Rev. 
C.  U.  Heilraan,  who  had  been  acting  for  a  time  as  agent  of  the  Col- 
lege, and  was  advised  b}^  the  Board  to  take  Pastor  Koplin's  charge, 
which  was  now  open  to  him,  through  Mr.  Koplin's  influence.  This 
was  the  proper  thing  to  do,  and  the  College  found  in  him  a  sufficient 
protector  of  its  interests  in  Somerset  county. 

In  the  year  1873  Mr.  Benjamin  Wilhelm  died,  aged  82  j^ears. 
Just  before  his  death  he  calle(i  his  younger  brother  Peter  to  his 
bedside,  solemnly  reminded  him,  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Koplin,  of 
the  vow  they  had  made  to  devote  their  earthly  possessions  to  the 
Church,  and  told  him  that  his  last  request  was  that  his  share  of  the 
estate  should  be  returned  to  the  Lord  from  whom  he  had  received 
it.  These  were  among  his  last  words,  when  he  calml}^  fell  asleep 
in  the  Lord. — His  brother  was  nrged  to  make  a  speedy  disposition 
of  the  estate  by  a  legal  document  which  would  cover  the  case,  but 
he,  like  many  elderl}'  persons,  had  some  repugnance  to  making  a 
will. 

There  were  still  some  difficulties  in  the  way ;  Peter's  mind  was  dis- 
tracted by  an  effort  to  direct  his  legacies  in  another  direction,  and 
he  was  anxions  to  have  the  property  free  of  all  incumbrances,  so 
that  he  might  be  able  to  give  it  back  to  the  Lord  in  a  form  that 
would  admit  of  no  possibility  of  any  sort  of  litigation. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  year  1876  Dr.  Koplin  wrote  to  Mr.  Peter 
Wilhelm  the  last  of  a  series  of  letters,  urging  him  no  longer  to  make 
any  delay  in  carrying  out  the  dying  request  of  his  brother  Benjamin. 
He  was  soon  afterwards  informed  that  his  letter  had  accomplished 
its  object,  and  that  the  matter  would  be  attended  to  at  an  earlj^ 
day. — Early  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1877,  Peter  felt  that  his 
end  was  drawing  near,  and  the  great  significant  work  of  his  life  was 
not  accomplished.  Under  the  impression  that  he  would  not  live 
much  longer,  he  sent  for  Mr.  Baer  to  come  and  write  out  his  last 
will  and  testament.  He  had  thought  over  the  matter  and  he  wished 
to  bequeath  to  his  nearest  heirs  who  were  Avorthy  what  he  regarded 
as  a  sufficiency — $15,000 — and  to  those  whom  he  considered  un- 
worthy a  merely  nominal  sura ;  also  something  to  useful  objects  in 
Somerset  county;  but  the  bulk  of  the  estate  he  bequeathed  to  the 
College  and  Seminar}-  at  Lancaster — two-thirds  to  the  former  and 
one-third  to  the  latter.  The  will  was  signed,  sealed  and  ordered  to 
be  put  on  record,  with  plenty  of  evidence  to  show  that  it  was  his 
own  free  act,  performed  whilst  he  was  in  a  sound  state  of  mind. 
The  long  expected  legacy  seemed  to  be  now  secure,  and  the  news 
came  wafted  over  the  mountains,  spreading  joy  and  gladness  to 


Chap.  XLYIII]  the  wiliielm  bequest  663 

many  interested  in  tlie  intellectual  work  at  Lancaster.  But  in  less 
than  thirty  days  Peter,  as  if  his  life  work  was  finished,  took  sick,  lay 
down  and  died,  and,  according  to  the  laws  of  the  State,  the  lega- 
cies for  benevolent  purposes  in  the  will  all  became  invalid.  Dis- 
ease made  rapid  progress  in  his  body  during  his  last  hours,  and 
when  the  lawyers  came  from  Somerset  he  no  longer  had  the 
strength,  even  with  a  scratch  of  the  pen,  to  avert  what  seemed  to 
be  an  approaching  public  calamity.  His  last  words  to  Mr.  Herman 
L.  Baer,  with  a  full  consciousness  of  the  state  of  affairs,  were: 
Der  Herr  weisst  wohl  das  ich  es  gut  gemeint  hahe.  He  then  fell 
asleep  with  the  consciousness  that  he  meant  well. 

The  situation  now  became  painful  in  the  extreme,  and  the  folly 
of  the  laAv  of  the  state  bearing  on  the  case  was  freel}'  denounced. 
At  first  Mr.  W.  J.  Baer  was  apprehensive  that  the  legacy-  was  lost  to 
the  Church,  but  Dr.  Koplin  knew  all  the  facts  in  the  case,  which  he 
communicated  to  Mr.  George  F.  Baer,  of  Reading,  Pa.,  who  at  once 
decided  that  they  were  of  suflicient  strength  to  give  vitalit}'  to  the 
will.  He  communicated  them  to  his  older  brother  William,  and 
they  together  agreed  that  they  justified  an  appeal  to  the  Courts  of 
Justice.  The  situation  thus  became  a  very  critical  one.  The  heirs, 
a  considerable  number  of  them,  came  forward,  and  claimed  their 
rights  to  the  property,  engaged  able  legal  counsel  and  offered  him 
a  large  portion  of  the  estate,  if  he  would  secure  it  for  them.  On 
the  other  hand  it  was  a  clear  case  that  there  was  abundant  parol 
testimony  to  show  that  the  two  brothers  with  their  sister  had 
entered  into  a  solemn  covenant  to  give  their  earthly  possessions 
to  the  Church,  and  it  was  felt  that  it  would  be  very  unrighteous  if 
by  a  legal  fiction  their  will  should  be  thwarted.  The  Board,  there- 
fore, employed  legal  counsel,  consisting  of  the  Honorable  John 
Cessna,  President  of  the  Board,  Hon.  Thos.  E.  Franklin,  and  Geo. 
F.  Baer,  Esq.,  all  members  of  their  own  body,  who,  without  any 
compensation  for  their  services,  were  successful  in  carrying  out  the 
original  object  of  the  will. 

Tlic  case  was  thrown  into  a  Court  of  E(iuity,  at  which  Dr.  Koplin 
and  William  J.  Baer  gave  lengthy  and  overwhelnjing  testimony' 
concerning  the  solemn  wishes  of  the  two  brothers  and  their  sister 
in  the  matter.  After  they  were  heard  a  comi)romise  was  made  and 
settlement  with  all  concerned  was  effected.  The  i)roperty  had  been 
appraised  at  the  low  figure  of  $70,000,  and  it  was  agreed  to  pay  the 
legal  heirs  $25,500  for  their  claims.  In  the  will  they  were  to  receive 
only  $15,000.  Accordingly  they  fared  better  than  if  the  will  of 
their  uncle  had  been  litcrallv  sustained. 


664  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

Thus  all  barriers  in  the  way  of  carrying  ont  the  provisions  of  the 
will  were  removed  and  seven-ninths  of  the  entire  estate  reverted  to 
Franklin  and  Marshall  College  and  the  Seminary.  Its  value  at  the 
time  was  variously  estimated  at  from  $60,000  to  $100,000.  After  a 
subsequent  special  geological  examination  of  its  mineral  resources 
in  coal,  iron  and  limestone  was  made  by  a  skilful  engineer,  Mr.  Hoff- 
man, of  Pottsville,  Pa., it  was  ascertained  that  its  prospective  value 
may  be  considerably  bej'ond  the  original  estimate.  Up  to  this  time, 
1889,  it  has  been  the  source  of  income,  sufficient  at  least  to  indem- 
nif}^  the  College  for  the  $25,500-  which  it  advanced  to  the  heirs  to 
satisf}^  their  claims ;  and  it  is  manifest  that  the  land  with  its  rich 
deposits  of  coal  is  increasing  rather  than  decreasing  in  value.  The 
compromise  gave  general  satisfaction  to  the  friends  of  the  College, 
and  was  a  matter  of  considerable  surprise.  Much  of  the  credit  for  the 
settlement  of  this  vexed  question  was  due  to  Hon.  A.  H.  Coffroth, 
the  counsel  for  the  heirs.  In  the  hands  of  a  lawyer  of  less  sterling 
integrit}^  and  public  spirit,  the  suit  might  have  been  prolonged  for 
3'ears  at  great  expense  to  both  sides,  and  with  fruitful  results  to 
the  lawyers.  Mr.  Coftroth  took  a  thoughtful  and  considerate  view 
of  the  situation,  and  consulted  his  law  preceptor,  Judge  Jeremiah 
S.  Black,  who  advised  him  to  consent  to  a  reasonable  compromise, 
and  he  was  afterwards  successful  in  inducing  his  clients  to  take 
that  view  of  the  case.  Judge  Black  was  an  enlightened  statesman 
and  Christian,  an  admirer  of  Dr,  Nevin  and  his  talents,  acquainted 
with  his  arduous  efforts  to  elevate  a  struggling  college  to  respect- 
ability and  usefulness  in  the  State,  but  at  the  same  time,  an  upright 
judge,  who  at  once  saw  the  equity  in  this  case.  This  enabled  him 
to  give  judicious  advice  in  the  matter  and  it  was  settled  in  an  hon- 
orable wa}-,  satisfactory  to  all  concerned  on  both  sides. 

The  actual  amount  of  mone}'  paid  over  for  the  increase  of  the 
endowment  of  the  College,  including  some  ten  or  twelve  thousand 
dollars  contributed  In'  the  Alumni  to  endow  an  Alumni  Professor- 
ship to  be  filled  bj^  Prof.  William  M.  Nevin,  during  Dr.  Nevin's 
administration  of  the  College,  was  about  seventj'  thousand  dollars. 
Augmented,  however,  b}'  what  must,  at  no  very  distant  day,  be  re- 
alized from  the  Wilhelm  estate,  it  will,  no  doubt,  considerably  ex- 
ceed $200,000,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  was  the  figure  fixed  upon 
in  a  moment  of  enthusiasm  in  the  year  1866,  when  the  new  impulse 
was  given  to  the  operations  of  the  College  b}^  the  appointment  of 
Dr.  Nevin  as  President. 

As  the  movement  for  the  more  liberal  endowment  of  the  College 
progressed,  the  wa}-  was  open  for  the  erection  of  a  new  boarding 


Chap.  XLYIIT]         dk.  nevin's  resignation  6G5 

house  on  the  College  Campus.  Its  corner-stone  was  laid  during  the 
Commencement  of  1871,  and  named  after  Dr.  Ilarbangh,  who  had 
first  urged  the  erection  of  such  a  building.  It  cost  $15,000,  and  was 
paid  for  out  of  the  contributions  made  to  Dr.  Wolff  and  others  for 
this  particular  purpose.  It  was  a  palpable  indication  of  progress, and 
ever3-body  was  pleased. — After  the  death  of  Dr.  AVollf,  the  Rev.  C. 
U.  Heilman  became  the  agent  of  the  College,  and  continued  in  that 
capacity  from  1872  to  1874.  B}-  his  industry-  and  perseverance  the 
College  endowment  was  considerably  enlarged,  which  was  very 
fortunate,  as  it  helped  to  diminishf  the  evil  effects  upon  the  Col- 
lege, occasioned  by  the  unproductive  investment  already  referred 
to. — But  just  at  this  point  enthusiasm  overleaped  the  mark.  The 
Faculty  had  been  active  in  various  ways  in  increasing  the  Col- 
lege endowment,  and  for  a  while  kept  up  a  conserv'ative  progress; 
but  the  movement  fell  into  other  hands  and  the  zeal  for  new 
buildings  went  be^'ond  the  limits  of  financial  prudence. — It  was 
proposed  to  erect  a  large  building  for  the  Preparator}-  Depart- 
ment as  the  most  successful  means  of  attitacting  students  and  candi- 
dates for  the  college  classes.  Dr.  Xevin  and  the  Faculty  approved 
of  this  project,  provided  the  necessary  funds  were  secured  before  the 
building  was  erected,  but  they  were  overruled.  There  was  a  con- 
siderable degree  of  undue  enthusiasm  enlisted  in  the  movement.  It 
was  alleged  that  the  money  could  be  raised  b}'  the  agent  as  the  new 
building  went  up,  or  afterwards.  Under  this  impression  the  Board 
of  Trustees,  strange  to  say,  agreed  to  advance  $20,000  from  its 
principal  to  be  invested  in  brick  and  mortar,  contrary  to  Dr. 
Nevin's  judgment.  An  admirable  edifice  w\as  erected  on  the  north 
end  of  the  Campus,  but  the  large  amount  of  money  taken  from  the 
endowment  fund  was  not  restored  to  its  place,  neither  at  the  time 
nor  afterwards.  Besides,  contrar3'  to  over  sanguine  predictions,  no 
unusual  number  of  students  were  attracted  by  the  new  Academy 
building,  and  it  yielded  little  or  nothing  in  the  way  of  income. 
What  had  been  productive  capital  now  became  unproductive,  and 
the  treasury-  of  the  College  suffered  as  a  consequence. 

Here  again,  as  once  before  in  Dr.  Nevin's  experience  at  Mercers- 
l)urg,  there  was  another  huge  pile  of  bricks  for  him  to  contemplate, 
which  also  gave  him  no  small  amount  of  disquietude.  The  sala- 
ries of  the  Professors  had  been  increased,  and  the  income  of  the 
College  had  been  suflicient  to  meet  them  when  they  became  due; 
l)ut  when  it  came  to  be  diminished  by  an  unprofitable  investment, 
they  no  longer  received  their  (juarterly  instalments  in  advance  as 
had  been  the  custom,  and  it  became  necessary  for  them  to  wait  for 
42 


666  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

their  paj-.  The  deficits  in  the  treasuiy  increased  from  year  to  3'ear, 
until  Dr.  Xevin  saw  that  the  means  were  no  longer  at  hand  to  pay 
the  President's  salary,  and  for  this  reason,  as  well  as  for  others  based 
on  his  advanced  age,  he  resigned  the  presidency  of  the  College  in 
1876,  to  spend  his  remaining  years  in  retirement.  This  was  a 
matter  of  general  regret,  but  it  was  felt  that  he  was  fully  justified 
in  the  premises.  The  friends  of  the  College  wished  him  a  happy 
green  old  age  and  a  peaceful  decline  in  life. — The  impulse  imparted 
to  Franklin  and  Marshall  College  during  the  presidency  of  Dr. 
Nevin,  as  might  be  presumed,  continued  after  his  resignatiofl,  and 
helped  to  give  it  a  healthful  progress,  in  proportion  as  external 
conditions  became  more  favorable.  No  effort,  however,  was  made 
to  provide  for  the  support  of  a  successor,  or  to  endow  the  presi- 
denc}',  until  after  his  death  in  1886.  Then  the  work  was  undertaken 
with  a  large  degree  of  enthusiasm  as  a  tribute  of  respect  to  his 
memory,  and  the  endowment  became  an  established  fact  in  1889 — 
in  memoriam  rei. 

It  ma}'  be  added  that  his  place  was  filled  by  the  Professors  in  the 
Seminary  and  College  for  one  year,  and  that  in  18'18,  Dr.  Thomas 
G.  Appel,  Professor  of  Church  History  in  the  Seminary,  became 
temporary  president  of  the  College,  which  oflSce  he  filled  in  connec- 
tion Avith  his  regular  duties  in  the  Seminar}-  i^ntil  the  3'ear  1888,  at 
a  nominal  salary;  because,  during  this  whole  period  the  College 
was  not  in  a  condition  to  pay  a  salaried  president.  Thus  in  an 
emergency  the  Seminary  came  to  the  relief  of  the  College  and  justi- 
fied its  removal  to  Lancaster  some  years  before. — In  filling  two 
onerous  professorships  Dr.  Appel  performed  a  vast  amount  of  work 
of  a  difficult  character.  He  reproduced  Dr.  Nevin's  lectures  on 
History,  JEsthetics  and  Ethics,  and  presented  them  in  a  more  in- 
telligible form  to  the  students,  with  such  additions  as  he  was 
enabled  to  make  by  his  previous  study  and  experience  as  a  teacher. 
— During  his  period  of  office  the  College  maintained  its  character- 
istic features  and  the  numbers  of  students  increased  from  year  to 
year.  It  was  materially  strengthened  by  four  valuable  additions  to 
the  Facult}'  in  the  persons  of  Professors  John  B.  Kieffer,  Jefferson 
E.  Kershner,  George  F.  Mull,  and  Richard  C.  Schiedt. — Dr.  John 
S.  Stahr,  who  succeeded  Dr.  Charles  H.  Budd  in  the  chair  of  Nat- 
ural Science  in  1871,  is  at  present  acting  president  of  the  College; 
and  Professor  W.  W.  Moore,  Rector  of  the  Preparatory  Depart- 
ment, is  annually  preparing  students  for  the  College  classes,  and 
laboring,  not  without  some  prospect  of  success,  in  rendering  the 
Academ}'  Building  productive  capital. 


C^HAPTER  XLIX 

IX  the  Summer  of  1840  Dr.  Ranch  delivered  a  course  of  lectures 
on  ^Esthetics  to  the  Sophomore  Class  of  Marshall  College  at 
Mercersburg,  which  made  a  permanent  impression  on  the  minds  of 
the  students  generally'.  The}'  were  read  and  studied  by  means  of 
the  brief  notes  taken  of  them  as  the\'  were  delivered,  and  copies  of 
these  were  multiplied  as  they  passed  from  one  generation  of  stu- 
dents to  another.  After  the  removal  of  the  College  to  Lancaster, 
lectures  on  this  science  were  called  for,  and  to  some  extent  deliv- 
ered b}'  Prof.  Kfeppen  in  connection  Avith  his  other  duties.  Dr. 
Xevin,  encouraged  b}-  the  general  interest  in  this  study,  and  im- 
pressed with  its  value  and  importance  in  a  liberal  education,  con- 
sented at  first  to  deliver  a  few  lectures  on  the  subject,  in  addition 
to  his  lectures  on  History-.  After  he  became  President  of  the  Col- 
lege in  1S6G,  the}-  were  enlarged,  and  the  principles  of  this  inter- 
esting science  were  full}^  developed.  He  gave  the  subject  careful 
study  and  investigation,  and  based  his  treatment  of  the  subject  on 
the  works  more  particularl}'  of  German  authors  who  had  written 
on  .Esthetics,  such  as  Schelling,  Hegel,  Schiller,  Kant,  Solger, 
Yischer  and  others. 

The  following  were  some  of  the  principal  topics,  which  were 
taken  up  and  discussed  in  scientific  order  in  the  regular  course  : 

I. — The  Idea  of  Beaut}-;  objective  beauty;  the  Sublime  in  time, 
space, and  in  dynamics  or  power;  the  subjective  Sublime  in  the  will, 
good  and  bad;  the  subjective  apprehension  of  the  Sublime,  both 
ol»jective  and  subjective;  the  Comic;  the  spheres  and  characteris- 
tics of  the  Comic  ;  the  Burlesque,  Wit,  Humor  and  the  Naive. 

II. — Nature  Beauty,  in  light,  air,  water,  minerals,  plants,  in  ani- 
mals and  man;  beauty  in  nature  real  but  imperfect ;  in  the  mind, 
ideal ;  and  perfect  in  their  union  as  seen  in  Art. 

III. — The  Phantasy;  the  characteristics  of  Art ;  the  Fine  Arts, 
Architecture,  Sculpture,  Painting,  Music  and  Poetry. 

From  this  table  of  contents,  considerably  abbreviated,  it  will  be 
seen  that  these  lectures  formed  a  treatise  of  considerable  size.  Our 
limits  permit  us  to  give  the  reader  only  the  general  or  metaphysical 
principles  of  Beauty  as  referred  to  in  the  first  division  of  the  subject. 

Esthetics  is  the  science  of  the  Beautiful,  so  culled  from  the  Greek 
verb  which  denotes  feeling  or  perception  throu<j;h  the  senses.     The 

( c<n ) 


668  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

term  at  first  was  regarded  as  objectionable,  because  it  did  not  seem 
to  cover  sufliciently  the  ground  of  the  science.  Hegel  proposed  to 
call  it  the  Philosoph}'  of  Art,  and  others  the  Science  of  Taste; 
but  as  it  has  to  do  with  feeling  of  a  high  spiritual  nature,  the 
original  title  given  to  it  has  been  retained  as  the  best  and  after  all 
the  most  suitable. 

The  sciences  have  been  defined  as  either  theoretical  or  practical ; 
but  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  Beautiful  does  not  belong  exclusively 
either  to  the  one  or  the  other  of  these  categories.  Neither  can  it 
be  classed,  strictly  speaking,  in  a  subjective  or  an  objective  sphere, 
but  belongs  to  the  Absolute,  which  is  higher  than  either. 

The  method  here  to  be  pursued  is  neither  the  speculative  nor  the 
inductive  exclusively.  The  two  must  go  together.  Observation 
in  any  form  calls  for  speculation,  and  speculation  calls  for  observa- 
tion or  data  upon  which  it  is  to  be  based.  It  is  therefore  best  to 
commence  with  the  metaphysics  of  beauty,  or  beauty  when  con- 
sidered under  its  most  general  form,  and  theu  afterwards  examine 
it  as  it  appears  in  nature  and  art. 

Metaph^'sical  beauty  is  back  of  all  beauty  in  the  world  around, 
and  is  closelj'  related  to  the  ideas  of  the  Good  or  ethical  and  the 
True,  which  also  goes  beyond  these  manifestations.  These  are 
spiritual  existences  made  up  of  parts  and  not  mere  abstractions. 
As  such  they  must  be  held,  else  God  Himself  in  whom  the3-  meet 
and  have  their  source  would  be  an  abstraction. 

All  beauty,  changing  from  the  Sublime  to  the  Comic  or  ridicu- 
lous, involves  two  apparently  opposing  forces,  and  yet  always 
joined  together  b}^  a  bond  of  unity,  first  the  idea  and  then  the 
form.  The  form  is  the  image  through  which  the  idea  manifests 
itself,  the  shrine  of  the  spiritual,  and  the  two  are  so  bound  together 
as  to  form  an  inseparable  unit}'.  The  proper  coiirse  to  pursue  in 
this  science,  accordingly-,  is  to  start  out  with  the  idea  of  beauty; 
then  consider  its  outward  embodiment;  and  afterwards  show  how 
these  two  forces  or  powers  are  related,  or  the  nature  of  the  bond 
b}'  which  the}'  are  held  together  in  this  sphere,  just  as  in  other 
spheres. 

The  word  idea  is  used  in  a  variety  of  meanings,  from  a  real  or 
true  thought  of  the  mind  to  a  mere  notion  or  logical  abstraction  of 
the  mind.  But  here  (as  in  the  Platonic  school. — Ed.)  it  means  a 
spiritual  existence,  that  is,  an  actual  reality  or  entit}'^,  a  spiritual 
force.  Whilst  the  phenomenal  world  is  made  up  of  parts  that  limit 
each  other,  this  spiritual  existence,  the  idea,  is  boundless  and  in- 
finite, an  indivisible  unity.     The  invisible  here  being  infinite  can 


ClIAP.  XLIX]  ESTHETICS  669 

never,  therefore,  l)e  fully  reve.iled  in  finite  things,  eitlier  in  time  or 
space.  And  yet  the  two  forms  of  existence  are  bound  together  and 
exist  in  each  other.  But  the  spiritual  manifests  itself  in  the  nat- 
nral  world  onl}-  through  the  finite,  not  in  single  parts,  but  in  the 
phenomenal  world  taken  as  a  whole;  and  in  that  sphere  it  is  brought 
out  b}-  a  process  of  continual  movement. 

In  distinction  from  nature,  however,  the  conception  of  art,  that 
is,  of  the  Beautiful,  must  come  forth  in  a  single  act  or  production. 
The  idea  is  first  represented  as  something  absolute,  in  wholeness. 
In  this  sense  it  does  not  actualize  itself  at  once  in  an  individual 
form,  but  in  a  numl)er  of  relative  ideas. — While  we  thus  find  an 
idea  pervading  all  nature,  we  nevertheless  see  a  difference  or  variety 
in  its  manifestations.  In  the  lower  forms  of  existence  we  find  that 
there  is  an  adaptation  of  means  to  an  end,  but  in  the  higher  forms, 
in  animals,  and  especially  in  man,  we  discover  that  means  and  end 
are  included  in  the  same  object.  Thus  the  idea  presents  itself  in 
generic  distinctions,  as  genera  and  species. 

Now  since  the  Beautiful  is  the  presence  of  a  universal  idea  in  a 
sensible  form,  it  ma}^  be  found  in  an}'  form  of  being,  from  the  min- 
eral and  plant  up  to  man,  whei'e  it  becomes  full  and  complete.  At 
certain  points  in  this  movement  it  appears  to  retrograde,  as  where  the 
higher  orders  of  plants  seem  to  be  more  imposing  than  the  lower 
order  of  animals  ;  but  this  is  onl}'  relative,  a  going  back  so  as  to 
bring  up  the  whole  force  of  the  idea  and  thus  carry  it  forward  as  a 
whole.  Unit}'  is  tlie  goal  that  is  to  be  reached,  and  the  parts  can- 
not advance  indefinitely  without  bringing  along  with  them  the  organ- 
ism as  a  whole.  In  the  lower  developments  there  is  no  mind  ;  in 
the  animal  there  is  something  resembling  consciousness  ;  but  in 
man  we  find  it  existing  in  its  clear  and  proper  sense.  Out  of  it 
grows  personality,  the  /  or  me  in  man.  It  comes  last  in  the  pro- 
cess of  development,  not  out  of  animal  or  vegetable  life,  but  out  of 
the  idea  which  rules  in  the  whole  process,  calling  forth  the  lower 
forms  of  existence  first,  in  order  that  they  may  serve  as  a  basis  or 
preparation  for  the  appearance  of  the  higher,  in  which  they  are  in- 
volved or  implied  and  from  which  they  derive  their  vitality.  The 
true  significance  of  the  world  comes  to  light  only  in  man,  who  is 
for  it  the  only  true  revelation,  and  Pan-anthropism.,  so  to  speak,  is 
its  secret  and  profoundest  law. 

Thus  the  universal  idea  of  the  world  unfolds  itself  through  the 
various  grades  of  mineral,  vegetable  and  animal  existen'ce  up  to 
man,  where  it  finally  becomes  the  moral  or  the  Good,  which  is  the 
al)solute  end  of  the  whole  process.     Truth,  which  is  reached  by  the 


670  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

thinking  of  men,  is  also  the  hist  sense  of  the  worhl  in  its  fnnda- 
mental  idea.  The  substance,  the  inward  side  of  the  Beautiful,  is 
therefore  the  Good,  and  in  this  sense,  the  Good,  the  True  and  the 
Beautiful  are  the  same.  The  distinctions  between  them  lie  in  the 
manner  in  which  the}'  reveal  themselves  to  the  human  mind.  The 
true  nature  and  sense,  therefore,  of  the  Beautiful  cannot  be  drawn 
from  the  character  of  its  contents,  since  the}'  are  common  to  the 
Good  and  the  True,  and  to  distinguish  it  from  the  latter,  we  must 
refer  it  to  other  forms  of  existence. — Plato  was  convinced  that 
beauty  was  something  spiritual  and  ideal,  and  gives  expression  to 
some  elevated  ideas  of  its  nature.  Thus  he  sa3's  that  Beauty  is  the 
reflection  of  Truth,  but  he  mixes  the  Beautiful  with  the  Good.  The 
Greeks  generally  felt  that  there  was  an  intimate  relation  between 
the  two,  which  the}'  were  enabled  to  express  in  their  own  beautiful 
language. 

The  Beautiful  must  therefore  be  distinguished  by  its  outward 
form  or  manifestations.  Form  may  be  called  the  embodiment  of  the 
idea  in  a  single  object.  In  the  first  place  it  must  always  belong  to 
the  genus,  which  is  required  to  be  represented,  and  through  the 
latter  it  must  come  to  its  expression.  If  different  spheres  are  em- 
ployed, the  representation  will  be  symbolical,  not  addressed  to  the 
eesthetical  but  the  logical  feeling.  But  as  the  Beautiful  is  not  a 
mere  symbol,  the  idea  must  come  to  its  proper  expression  in  the 
object  and  form,  that  belong  to  the  same  genus  as  the  idea  which 
is  to  be  represented.  Such  individual  existence  may  be  regarded 
as  something  accidental,  and  in  that  respect  is  to  be  broadly  dis- 
tinguished from  the  idea  on  the  other  side,  which  is  universal  and 
necessary.  An  individual  form  as  the  production  of  nature  is  the 
opposite  of  all  universality.  But  all  individual  existence  is  the  re- 
sult of  a  generic  force,  the  idea,  which  works  through  the  forces  of 
nature  in  order  to  realize  itself  externally. 

It  is,  however,  modified  by  these  forces,  and  accordingly  we  find 
that  no  vegetables,  animals  or  men  are  exactly  alike.  The  produc- 
tions of  nature  cross  each  other  and  mix  themselves  together  in  an 
endless  variety,  because  the  conditions  to  which  they  are  subjected 
are  never  the  same.  Life  supplies  the  germs,  and  subsequent  de- 
velopment depends  on  innumeraljle  conditions.  Thus  it  makes  a  wide 
world  of  difference,  whether' a  man  is  born  in  one  age,  country,  loca- 
tion or  another.  Even  after  he  comes  to  act  for  himself,  he  is  sub- 
jected to  external  conditions  and  modified  by  them.  Consequently, 
the  second  side  of  beauty  is  subject  to  endless  diversification.  This 
seems  at  first  view  a  contradiction,  that  the  same  idea  should  thus 


Chap.  XLIX]  aesthetics  671 

maiiil'cst  itself  in  changeable  forms;  but  it  is  not  so  in  fact,  because 
in  the  apparently  endless  diversity  there  is  always  the  same  primal 
unit}'. 

The  distinctive  character  of  the  Beautiful,  however,  cannot  be 
realized  from  the  form  as  such.  In  modern  times,  especially  in 
England,  it  has  been  presumed  that  beaut}'  consists  essentiall}-  in 
form,  and  it  was  therefore  inferred  that  the  latter  -was  sufficient  to 
show  the  nature  of  the  former.  But  no  such  outward  criterion  can 
be  found  to  distinguish  it  from  other  spheres  of  contemplation.  It 
can  never  be  realized  except  as  the  mind  looks  through  the  outward 
embodiment  to  its  internal,  life-giving  power.  Aristotle,  the  ancient 
Greek  philosopher,  spiritualized  beauty  to  such  an  extent  as  to 
make  it  consist  of  a  simple  unit}',  which  assumed  the  character  of 
a  dead  abstraction.  The  English  school  on  the  other  hand,  of 
which  Hutchison  was  the  founder,  materialized  it  by  making  it  to 
consist  altogether  in  form.  Hogarth  after  him,  in  his  "Analysis 
of  Beauty,"  laid  it  down  as  his  fundamental  principle  that  beauty 
consisted  in  forms  and  lines,- neither  straight  nor  circular,  but 
waving,  as  we  see  in  his  "line  of  beauty."  There  is  some  truth  in 
this  assertion,  since  it  consists  always  in  the  union  of  the  invariable 
and  the  variable.  Burke,  in  his  admirable  treatise,  on  "  The  Beau- 
tiful and  Sublime,"  which  does  credit  to  his  great  genius,  treats  the 
subject  more  profoundly  than  his  predecessors;  but  he  cannot  be 
said  to  have  attained  to  Si  pMloHophical  conceiotion  of  the  Beautiful, 
as  he  was  under  the  dominion  of  the  empirical  system  of  thinking 
prevalent  in  his  day. 

The  view  of  the  English  school  in  attempting  to  define  in  what 
true  beauty  consists  is  too  narroiv  on  the  one  hand,  and  too  icide 
on  the  other,  as  it  introduces  elements  which  do  not  belong  to  tchat 
is  beau f if  1(1.  No  outward  mechanical  determination  of  its  essen- 
tial character  is  in  fact  possible.  Lines  and  waves  may  enter  into 
the  constitution  of  the  form  under  which  it  appears,  but  any  at- 
tem])t  to  deduce  it  from  them  alone  is  fanatical  and  unsatisfactory 
in  the  end. 

Beauty  is  capable  of  presenting  itself  to  us  under  many  and  di- 
versified forms,  inasmuch  as  it  is  the  representation  of  the  absolute 
relatively  and  in  a  specific  form.  It  cannot  be  bound  to  outward 
lines  or  marks;  for  the  l)eauty  of  a  plant  is  difi'erent  from  that  of 
an  animal,  that  of  a  dog  from  that  of  a  horse;  and  consetjuently  if 
we  could  determine  what  is  beauty  in  plants,  it  would  not  be  appli- 
cable to  animals.  Both  sides  of  the  Beautiful  are  positively  essen- 
tial to  a  proper  conception  of  its  true  nature. 


672  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

As  we  ascend  in  the  scale  of  beant}',  where  its  primary  idea  be- 
comes more  fully  realized,  it  would  seem  as  if  there  were  less  room 
for  variation,  but  this  is  not  the  case.  As  the  Ideal  becomes  more 
concentrated  and  intensified  in  the  Real  as  in  man,  the  power  of 
variation  in  its  range  also  increases;  and  while  objects  are  alike  in 
certain  particulars  and  conform  to  certain  types,  the  variation  be- 
comes deeper,  and  the  room  for  greater  distinction  expands  and  en- 
larges itself.  Nowhere  is  individuality  so  strong  as  in  man.  Thus 
we  see  that  beauty  involves  not  only  the  idea  on  the  one  side  and 
an  endless  variety  of  form  on  the  other,  but  also  a  conci*ete  union 
of  the  two. 

In  view  of  this  endless  variet}'  and  difference  of  form,  it  has  been 
thought  by  some  that  it  is  impossible  to  lay  down  any  law  of  what 
constitutes  beauty ;  and  as  there  can  be  no  law,  there  can  be  no  such 
a  science  as  ^Esthetics.  But  it  is  sufficient  to  set  this  aside,  if  we 
say  that  this  is  not  peculiar  to  this  particular  science,  but  extentis 
also  to  all  other  sciences  in  the  sphere  of  nature.— The  science  of 
Esthetics  has  been  found  to  take  form  and  shape  in  a  large  measure 
from  the  systems  of  philosophy  which  may  be  reigning  at  any  par- 
ticular time.  Thus  before  the  time  of  Kant,  during  the  reign  of 
the  Wolflan  philosophy  in  Germany,  it  was  held  that  the  plan  or 
intelligence  of  the  world  involved  a  species  of  dualism,  and  this  en- 
tered into  the  ^sthetical  thinking  of  the  age.  Baumgarten  was 
the  advocate  of  this  theory,  according  to  which  beauty  depended 
on  perfection,  or  the  Zweek  of  an  object.  Kant  shook  the  founda- 
tion of  the  old  order  of  things,  and  in  connection  with  his  philoso- 
phy brought  out  many  fine  ideas  in  regard  to  beauty.  He  was  the 
first  to  make  the  distinction  between  the  teleological  judgment — the 
logical  relation  of  means  to  end — ^and  the  proper  a'sthetical  idea. 
Schiller  followed  out  this  idea  in  regard  to  ^Esthetics  more  es- 
peciall3\  Afterwards  Hegel  with  his  philosoph}',  and  still  later 
Schelling  treated  the  subject  very  profoundly.  The  followers  of  the 
latter  in  the  field  of  ^Esthetics  was  Solger  in  his  Vorlesinigen  tieher 
j^.sthetik,  who  is  properly  called  the  father  of  Esthetics.  He  brings 
out  the  idea  that  the  universal  and  the  particular  are  concrete,  like 
the  body  and  the  soul,  the  general  answering  to  the  soul  and  the 
single  to  the  body.  The  view  that  he  held  in  regard  to  the  union 
of  idea  and  form  is  represented  as  now  preA^ailing  everywhere.  In 
more  recent  times  the  large  work  of  Dr.  Frederick  Theodore  Vischer, 
of  the  University  of  Tuebingen,  on  JEsthetik  oder  die  Wessenschaft 
des  Schcenen, seems  to  have  exhausted  the  subject, at  least  as  view- 
ed from  the  Schellingian-IIegelian  stand-points  of  philosophy. 


Chap,  XLIX]  esthetics  673 

As  nlrcady  sjiid,  thoro  are  two  sides  involved  in  :ill  bennt}',  the 
generic  and  the  individual,  and  the  two  are  so  united  that  the  idea 
is  immanent  in  the  form.  There  is  therefore  no  eontrndiction  ex- 
isting between  them.  Although  opposites,  the  one  requires  at  the 
same  time  the  presence  of  the  other.  In  the  individual  or  partic- 
ular form  of  beauty,  the  genus  manifests  itself  in  the  individual, 
and  is  conditioned  b}-  outward  matter,  material, — or,  as  the  Ger- 
mans say,  Slof]\  which  is  always  something  contingent  or  acci- 
dental. The  _r/e??p?-/c' does  not,  however,  lose  its  principle;  but  al- 
ways retains  its  plastic  power,  although  it  never  appears  in  its  full 
undivided  strength  in  the  mere  individual.  It  is  like  a  stamp  or 
seal,  which  always  remains  the  same,  although  the  imj)ression  may 
vary  with  the  material  on  which  it  is  impressed,  whether  it  be  wax 
or  any  other  material. 

The  ideal  here  then  is  a  j)lastic  poicer.  Life  depends  on  innumer- 
able contingencies  and  forces  at  work  before  the  existence  of  any 
particular  being  or  creature,  and  after  it  comes  to  exist  innumer- 
able foi'ces  are  brought  to  bear  upon  it  in  training  and  educating 
it.  Neither  side  of  the  Beautiful,  however,  loses  anything  of  its 
own  peculiar  nature.  In  minerals  and  vegetables,  although  there 
is  individualization,  the  difference,  especially  in  an  aesthefical  vieic. 
does  not  amount  to  a  proper  individuality.  One  diamond  is  just 
the  same  as  another.  But  as  we  ascend  to  the  animal,  where  dis- 
tinctive individuals  appear  in  the  proper  sense,  and  especially  into 
tlie  sphere  of  personality  in  man,  the  underlying  idea  emphasizes 
itself  and  becomes  more  intense.  This  intensification  serves,  at 
the  same  time,  to  call  out  the  individual  more  impressiA'cly.  In 
vegetables  and  the  lower  order  of  animals  we  see  that  each  is  a 
specimen,  and  we  make  no  further  account  of  it  as  a  separate  ex- 
istence. But  in  the  higher  animals  we  begin  to  distinguish  between 
animals  of  the  same  kind,  that  is,  to  individualize,  although  this 
process  of  mental  activity  continues  to  be  imperfect  until  we  reach 
the  sphere  of  human  personality,  wliere  the  two  sides  are  brought 
fully  together. 

In  this  higher  sphere  the  general  ty])e  of  liuinanity  is  more  uni- 
form than  in  the  general  tyi)e  of  trees  or  animals;  but  at  the  same 
time,  whilst  this  is  the  case  in  an  external  aspect,  more  room  is  left 
for  distribution  in  an  interna!  aspect.  The  individuMlity  in  the 
case  of  man  is  deeper  and  more  emphatic,  and  for  that  reason  wider 
than  in  the  case  of  the  vegetable  or  animal.  lie  is  not  merely  a 
specimen  as  a  plant  or  animal  is;  not  only  a  spi'cies,  but  the  genus 
itself,  without  the  di\ersity  of  species. 


674  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

The  character  of  man  depends  on  his  spirit,  but  the  spirit  depends 
also  upon  nature  around  it;  and  it  makes  a  vast  difference,  there- 
fore, what  elements  enter  his  constitution  and  what  influences  act 
upon  him  afterwards.  There  is  in  fact  room  for  endless  distinctions 
in  the  developments  of  personality. — This  is  only  bringing  out  the 
general  idea  of  organization,  which  was  had  in  view  all  along.  The 
more  perfect  the  organization  becomes  the  more  perfect  will  each 
of  the  two  parts  become.  The  more  tru\y  individualized  a  man  is, 
the  more  general  will  he  be  at  the  same  time.  This  seems  to  be  a 
contradiction,  but  it  is  not  so  in  fact.  Thus  we  find  that  among 
the  Greeks  and  Romans  the  men  who  were  most  different  from 
others,  were  the  truh^  representative  men  of  their  age,  and  embodj^- 
ing  in  themselves  its  true  iniiversal  character,  brought  out  its  spirit 
or  animus  the  most  full}'.  Whilst  the}'  looked  upon  the  bod}'  of  life 
around  them,  they  also  found  a  voice  for  it  and  gave  it  full  expres- 
sion. Hence  after  their  death  the}'  were  worshipped  as  heroes  or 
demi-gods. 

In  the  human  sphere  there  is  a  new  creation,  which  is  a  moral 
life,  waking  in  the  bosom  of  consciousness,  and  making  itself  the 
centre  of  a  new  existence.  This  is  not  blindly  or  necessarily  gov- 
erned by  any  lower  forms  of  existence.  They  in  fact  must  first  be 
recognized  and  accredited  before  they  are  allowed  to  exert  any 
kind  of  influence  or  to  perform  service  of  any  sort.  Thus  person- 
ality brings  into  view  the  new  principle  of  self-action.  The  mere 
individual  life  is  still  bound  slavishly  in  its  accidental  distinctions; 
but  personality,  reason  and  will  are  infinite  and  boundless, although 
they  are  under  one  aspect  within  the  bounds  of  individual  life. 

The  union  between  the  generic  and  the  indixndaal  here  is  not 
dead,  but  the  perpetual  activity  of  opposing  forces,  the  idea  assert- 
ing itself  in  boundless  forms  and  yet  received  and  controlled  in  a 
limited  and  bounded  embodiment.  In  this  conflict  it  may  come 
to  such  a  crisis  as  to  amount  to  direct  insurrection.  Both  forces 
are  usually  blamed,  but  they  may  assume  such  a  character  that  the 
particular  may  initiate  the  insurrection  against  the  general  or  uni- 
versal.— In  a  grain  of  wheat,  for  instance,  under  necesary  favorable 
conditions,  the  general  unites  with  the  particular,  and  a  plant  is 
the  result.  But  if  there  should  be  too  much  moisture,  or  other  con- 
ditions are  unfavorable  in  the  contest  between  the  two  forces,  they 
are  both  overwhelmed,  and  the  grain  is  destroyed.  These  very 
conflicts  show  the  inseperable  connection  between  the  two  related 
forces.  We  find,  therefore,  that  idea  and  form  do  not  only  admit, 
but  imperatively  require  each  other's  presence. 


Chap.  XLIX]  esthetics  Cuo 

In  the  development  of  the  workl,  as  we  liave  seen,  there  is  a  eon- 
tinuous  process  of  becoming — urn  zu  xverden — bnt  whilst  the  idea 
is  continnall^^  striving  to  manifest  itself,  it  never  reaches  a  full  and 
complete  manifestation  in  any  form  of  nature.  The  necessary  con- 
nection between  the  generic  and  the  individual  is  accomplished 
onh'  b}'  thought.  In  the  conception  of  the  Ik'autiful,  however, 
on  the  other  hand,  it  is  necessarj^  that  the  idea  should  l)e  fully  pre- 
sented in  a  bounded,  limited  form.  The  latter  must  actually  en- 
shrine the  presence  of  the  idea ;  it  cannot,  therefore,  be  arbitrary, 
indefinite  or  transient,  losing  itself  in  other  forms  ;  but  stable, 
bringing  the  process  of  development  'together  as  it  were  into  a 
single  point.  It  must  be  sundered  from  all  relations  or  associa- 
tions that  serve  to  distract  the  attention,  or  to  separate  it  from  the 
thought  or  truth  it  is  intended  to  enshrine. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  it  must  be  sundered  as  fixr  as  possible 
from  all  material  texture,  and  be  viewed  in  reference  to  what  it  re- 
presents. As  soon  as  the  attention  is  directed  to  the  form  in  its 
material  contents,  it  ceases  to  be  an  eesthetical  object.  The  inter- 
est taken  in  an  object,  under  this  view,  may  not  be  sensuous,  but 
also  intellectual.  It  may  also  be  regarded  as  an  object  of  science, 
as  when  the  geologist  studies  the  Falls  of  Niagara,  and  sees  neither 
beauty  nor  sublimity  in  this  natural  wonder  of  wonders — only  the 
slow  processes  of  Geology — or  an  immense  water-power.  The  anat- 
omist in  dissecting  a  beautiful  body,  animal  or  human,  makes  no 
account  of  the  beaut}"  still  lingering  on  it ;  and  the  same  principle 
applies  when  we  come  to  dissect  an}"  object  mentality.  The  utili- 
tarian and  the  a;sthetical  are  two  distinct  spheres.  The  thing  of 
beauty  must  l)e  aljstracted  from  its  own  outward  contents,  consti- 
tution and  surroundings. 

Here  it  is  that  we  find  that  "  distance  lends  enchantment  to  the 
view,"  just  because  it  idealizes  an  object  by  leaving  out  of  sight 
its  material  contents.  Distance  in  time  has  the  same  effect,  and 
death  itself  ma}-  be  said  on  the  same  principle  to  have  an  idealizing 
power.  And  so  it  is  with  vision,  and  also  with  sound.  Music  is 
produced  by  concordant  sounds,  but  it  becomes  more  perfect  when 
at  a  distance  we  hear  only  i)ure  musical  sounds,  and  no  longer  the 
twang  of  the  strings  of  the  violin  as  we  may  Avhen  we  are  near  the 
instrument.  Beauty  therefore  holds  in  i)ure  form  without  natural 
contents,  without  any  contents  indeed  excei)t  the  idea. 

Form  may  be  abstracted  or  drawn  oil'  from  that  which  it  includes 
in  its  sensuous  nature,  and  in  its  place  be  interpenetrable  with  the 
idea.     The  substance,  matter  or  stofi",  may  be  taken  in  three  senses: 


616  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

it  may  denote  the  spiritual  contents,  or  the  proper  objects  of  beauty ; 
it  ma}-  mean  some  subject-matter  or  part  of  liistor^-  underlying  a 
drama  or  a  poem,  whicli  may  be  used  for  a  poetical  purpose  in 
A^arious  wa^^s;  or  it  may  be  made  to  represent  the  physical  contents 
of  any  siesthetical  creation,  and  it  is  in  this  sense  that  it  is  ordinarily 
nsed  in  Jj]sthetics. 

The  idea  then  must  be  in  a  form  or  outward  manifestation,  and 
the-  relation  of  the  two  is  like  that  of  the  soul  to  the  bod}'.  In  the 
body  the  eye  is  not  the  mere  symbol  of  the  soul,  but  the  latter  is  in 
the  former  and  looks  out  through  it.  So  we  look  at  the  object  or 
form  of  beauty  with  the  spiritual  eye.  Then  the  Beautiful  shines 
through  it  and  makes  itself  as  it  were  visible  without  any  interven- 
ing reflection,  not  as  in  thinking  when  we  communicate  with  pure 
truth  in  a  spiritual  Avay,  where  spirit  meets  spirit;  but  where  spirit 
meets  spirit, in  a  limited,  bounded  object.  So  it  is  in  the  case  of  the 
Fine  Arts  generally,  such  as  poetry,  music,  painting,  and  sculpture. 
Whilst  in  these,  as  well  as  in  nature,  we  are  confronted  with  a  rela- 
tive idea  in  some  particular  form,  we  are  at  the  same  time  con- 
fronted with  the  universal  or  the  Absolute  Idea,  which  presents  it- 
self in  the  Relative. 

The  Beautiful  and  the  Good  in  idea  have  thus  the  same  form  of 
existence.  How  then  can  the}^  differ?  The  Good  is  the  actualiza- 
tion of  the  idea  through  the  will,  and  nothing  can  become  the  Good 
to  man  unless  through  his  will.  Thou  shalt  is  the  address,  and  as 
soon  as  the  will  answers  I  will,  then  it  possesses  it  in  perpetuum. 
The  True  addresses  itself  to  reason  ;  and  the  Beautiful  is  not 
brought  about  either  by  the  activity  of  the  will  or  the  reason,  but 
by  an  intuitional  response  of  its  own. 

To  complete,  therefore,  our  knowledge  of  beauty,  metaphj'sically 
considered,  in  addition  to  its  objectiA'e  constitution,  we  must  seek 
to  obtain  some  proper  idea  of  its  subjective  apprehension.  In  fact 
it  can  have  an  existence  for  us  only  as  we  apprehend  it.  Thus  it 
involves  a  sentiment.  A  good  deal  of  the  a?sthetical  thinking  in  the 
world, especially  in  England,  has  been  directed  to  subjective  feeling, 
instead  of  to  objective  constitution.  It  is  necessary,  however,  to 
understand  both  the  constitution  and  its  corresponding  sentiment. 
How  then  does  beauty  come  to  exist  in  the  mind  of  the  subject? 
If  there  were  no  eyesight  in  the  world,  we  could  not  speak  of  vis- 
ible forms.  A  flower  blooming  in  the  desert  could  not  be  beautiful 
imless  seen  by  man.  So  the  olyeet  of  beauty  must  be  sensible,  and 
the  mind  must  form  a  conception  of  it :  and  this  conception  is 
properly  the  Beautiful.    We  cannot  say  that  there  is  any  beaut}^  to 


Chap.  XLIX]  esthetics  OTT 

us  at  all  bevoiul  our  vision  and  conception  of  it.  The  apprehen- 
sion of  it,  however,  must  correspond  to  its  general  constitution, 
involving  two  things  in  one.  B}'  a  process  of  thinking  we  may  at- 
tain to  truth,  but  not  to  beaut}^  which  is  always  bound  to  a  sensible 
manifestation ;  and  the  apprehension  then  always  starts  in  an  act  of 
sensation,  but  it  cannot  stop  at  such  a  limit.  It  is  always  accom- 
panied b^'  an  act  of  mind  or  intuition.  The  two  flow  into  each 
other;  but  as  in  all  thinking,  they  must  be  separated,  and  so  the 
latter  falls  back  into  the  sphere  of  intuition. 

The  contemplation  of  the  Beautiful  cannot  terminate  in  the  sensi- 
ble form,  cannot  rest  in  it  for  a  moment,  for  as  soon  as  this  is  the 
case,  the  interest  is  sensuous  and  not  esthetic.  Room,  therefore, 
must  be  made  iuimediatelv  for  another  act  of  apprehension,  which 
is  spiritual  and  internal;  but  this  must  be  involved  in  the  first  act 
of  sense,  so  that  the  two  are  limited  as  it  were  in  a  single  function, 
which  goes  through  the  external  form  to  the  idea  or  thought  which 
lies  back  of  it. 

An  ivsthetical  intuition  thus  alwaj^s  starts  in  a  sensation,  but 
the  senses  are  not  all  equally  adapted  to  this  purpose.  Five  in 
number, the}'  are  all  rooted  in  the  common  ground  of  consciousness, 
differ  more  or  less  in  their  relation  to  the  natural  world,  and  par- 
take in  ditt'erent  degrees  of  spiritual  refinement.  Those  that  have 
to  do  most  with  the  outward  form  of  objects,  as  sight  and  hearing, 
are  most  concerned  with  aesthetic  processes,  and  give  rise  to  the 
Fine  Arts. — The  two  senses  of  sight  and  hearing  have  a  mutual  re- 
lation. Poetr}-  and  music  are  referred  to  the  internal  sense,  and  if 
smell  or  the  lower  senses  come  in  at  all  in  the  domain  of  beaut}-, 
the}'  are  merely  subsidiary. 

The  presence  of  the  Beautiful  is  apprehended  directly  by  an  in- 
tuition. All  the  senses  are  in  sympathy  with  each  other,  es[)ecially 
the  higher  ones.  Motion  which  is  addressed  to  the  e^e,  naturally 
calls  up  the  idea  of  music,  and  music,  on  the  other  hand,  that  of  a 
rhythmical  motion  as  in  the  dance.  Hence  we  come  to  speak  of  the 
"music  of  the  spheres,'' although  their  motions  are  perfectly  silent. 
— In  the  perception  of  the  beautiful,  however,  the  senses  are  per- 
fectly transparent,  like  the  form  in  the  object,  so  as  to  make  room 
for  the  s[)iritunl  apprehension.  In  the  constitution  of  beauty, 
there  are  two  ideal  existences,  one  in  the  object,  the  other  in  the 
subject. 

In  connection  with  beauty  we  speak  also  of  grace  or  charm, 
which  refers  to  motion  and  thus  becomes  an  essential  element  of 
beauty.     According  to  Schiller,  grace  is  ai)plied  more  particularly 


678  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    18G1-1876  [DiV.  XI 

to  woman,  and  dignity  to  the  other  sex.  He  makes  grace  to  hold  in 
a  free,  voluntary  harmony  of  the  nature  of  man  with  his  natural 
constitution,  which  harmony  is  brought  about  by  the  influence  of 
the  former  npon  the  latter.  It  involves,  therefore,  harmony  be- 
tween two  forms  of  existence,  and  presents  itself  most  full}'  in  man. 
Where  the  graceful  applies,  it  involves  the  different  elements  in  dis- 
tinction from  conflicting  harmon^^  such  as  we  find  in  the  Sublime. 
The  graceful,  especially  in  small  things,  becomes  the  tasteful. 
Grace  is  the  free  subordination  of  the  natural  to  the  spiritual.  But 
it  is  possible  where  the  moral  condition  is  wrong,  that  the  force 
may  be  such  as  not  to  cause  the  transition  from  the  sensible  mani- 
festation to  the  spiritual  idea  to  take  place  immediately. 

The  sense-spirit  in  the  assthetical  may  be  only  sublimated,  as  is 
often  the  case  in  the  ethical,  and  so  it  ma}-  be  made  to  pass  for  the 
idea  itself.  Instead  of  carr^'ing  the  spectator's  mind  up  through 
itself  to  the  spiritual  thought,  the  form  may  be  left  in  the  mind  by 
itself  giving  thus  merely  a  kind  of  refined  sensualism^  a  caricature 
of  beauty.  Here  charm  or  grace  becomes  a  mere  enticement.  When, 
therefore,  it  is  said  that  beauty  may  be  as  well  applied  to  sensuous 
purposes  as  to  higher  ones,  the  Beautiful  rs  altogether  misappre- 
hended. It  is  only  as  it  is  caricatured  that  it  can  be  applied  to  any 
other  than  a  spiritual  end. — In  ^Esthetics  the  object  is  not  merely 
an  aid,  or  a  bridge,  by  which  as  by  a  word  the  mind  reaches  the 
idea,  but  it  is  the  middle  ground  on  which  the  two,  the  mind  and 
the  idea,  meet.  Here  all  logical  processes  are  anticipated  and  cut 
short,  and  the  harmony  of  the  world  is  given  forth  in  sensible 
manifestations.  The  a?sthetical  sentiment  must  necessaril}'  be  in 
correspondence  with  its  object,  and  be  in  communication  with  what 
is  before  it.     It  is  not  logical  thinking,  but  rational  intuition. 

An  testhetical  judgment  is  said  to  be  free  when  the  person  has 
no  interest  in  the  object,  and  the  satisfaction  is  contemplative  and 
without  bias. — Interest  in  an  object  and  beauty  are  not  the  same. 
A  mere  desire  for  excitement  is  not  festhetical,  but  often  opposed 
to  it.  The  agreeable  is  different  from  the  beautiful.  It  has  refer- 
ence to  sensual  gratification,  and  if  applied  to  spiritual  objects  still 
partakes  of  this  character.  It  is  not  of  universal  authority;  it 
varies  and  fluctuates,  and  holds  only  in  regard  to  the  i^erson  whom 
it  eff'ects.  Hence  it  is  said  that  there  is  no  room  for  dispute  in 
matters  of  taste.  There  is  of  course  an  aflfinity  between  the  Beau- 
tiful and  the  gratification  of  the  senses,  since  beautj^  holds  primarily 
in  an  act  of  sense,  and  therefore  taste,  referring  at  first  only  to 
what  is  sensual,  is  applied  also  to  the  spiritual  and  beautiful.     Here, 


ClIAP.  XLIX]  ESTHETICS  6T9 

too,  there  is  "no  room  for  dispute  in  matters  of  taste,"  in  the  way 
of  argument  or  reason. 

Beauty,  as  apprehended  by  the  Jtsthetical  sentiment,  demands 
universal  acknowledgment.  Taste  even  in  this  sphere  refers  more 
to  the  external  accidental  arrangement  of  the  Beautiful  than  it  does 
to  the  thing  itself.  A  logical  judgment  ends  in  a  conception,  but 
an  aesthetical  judgment  terminates  in  the  object  by  an  intuition. 
In  a  word,  we  apprehend  an  object  Immediately  by  an  {esthetic 
judgment.  It  may  afterwards  be  taken  up  as  a  matter  of  science, 
and  become  the  object  of  a  logical  process.  But  apprehended  l)}-  the 
{1,'sthetic  sentiment,  the  object  here,  as  in  religion,  has  as  much  au- 
thorit3',and  is  just  as  general  and  universal,  as  if  reached  by  a  logical 
process  or  deduction.  The  Good  in  like  manner  is  not  primarily 
a  logical  thought,  and  the  same  rule  applies  to  it  as  the  Beautiful. 
The  want  of  a  corresponding  perception  for  the  one  or  the  other 
argues  necessarily  some  defect  in  the  person  himself,  which  may  be 
in  his  natural  organization  or  in  deficient  culture. 

The  Beautiful,  as  already  said,  in  its  proper  constitution,  is  the 
resultant  of  two  constituent  forces,  which  are  in  a  quiescent  state; 
not,  however,  in  the  sense  that  they  are  no  longer  active.  They 
retain  their  antagonism,  and  vaa,y  be  said  to  work  against  each 
other  in  producing  a  common  result.  The  one  counterbalances  the 
other,  and  thus  both  seem  to  be  at  rest.  But  this  equilibrium  may 
be  disturbed,  so  that  the  antagonism  may  be  seen  and  felt.  One 
element  ma}-  be  the  stronger,  and  consequentl}^  disturb  and  disquiet 
the  other.  "We  then  have  to  consider  "  Beauty  in  the  struggle  of 
its  elements,"  seeking  their  rectification.  This  results  from  their 
antithetic  character,  and  the  object  of  the  struggle  is  the  restora- 
tion of  the  equilibrium.  It  may  have  two  forms  according  as  the 
one  or  the  other  element  is  the  stronger  and  preponderates.  If 
the  idea  prevails  we  have  the  Siiblime.  Weisse  makes  the  Sublime 
a  movement  out  of  the  sphere  of  the  Beautiful  into  the  sphere  of 
the  Good  ;  but  this  would  overthrow  the  conception  of  the  Beauti- 
ful as  already  established ;  for  the  Sublime  and  the  Beautiful  are 
always  associated  together,  belong  to  the  same  sphere,  and  require 
idea  and  form  to  go  together.  Solger  makes  the  Sublime  come  from 
the  Beautiful,  representing  it  as  the  idea  struggling  through  the 
form  without  being  realized.  There  seems  to  be  countenance  for 
this  thought  in  the  fact  that  after  we  have  the  form  thus  presented  in 
geological  formations,  rugged  rocks,  abrujjt  mountains,  the  cosmos 
follows.  So  society  also  presents  itself  in  the  history  of  nations,  in 
their  origin  and  progress,  before  it  comes  to  its  normal  formation. 


680  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

The  more  correct  view  is  as  we  have  it  in  Yischer,  in  the  one 
given  above,  which  includes  the  Sublime  in  the  sphere  of  the  Beau- 
tiful, not  below  nor  beyond  it,  but  as  in  a  struggle  with  its  ele- 
ments. This  gives  room  for  two  phases.  The  first  claim  presents 
itself  on  the  side  of  the  idea,  constituting  the  Sublime.  In  this 
case  the  idea  so  breaks  forth  from  the  object  as  to  overwhelm  the 
form,  presenting  its  own  infinitude,  in  opposition  to  the  limitations 
of  the  form  by  which  it  is  to  be  enshrined.  The  image  or  form  in 
which  the  idea  is  presented  is  made  null — annihilated  as  to  its  idea. 
But  we  must  not  suppose,  as  we  are  apt  to  do,  that  the  idea  is 
emancipated  from  the  form,  as  this  would  giA-e  us  merely  a  logical 
thought.  We  still  communicate  with  the  idea  through  the  form. 
But  the  idea  is  brought  into  a  negative  relation  to  the  real, — made 
to  negate  the  form. 

It  seems  to  be  a  contradiction  to  saj^  that  the  idea  should  anni- 
hilate the  form  and  still  be  in  it.  But  that  is  the  essential  charac- 
teristic of  the  Sublime;  it  is  there  and  it  is  not  there.  It  is  always 
vanishing  and  yet  remaining.  There  is  here  a  new  element  to  be 
considered,  that  of  quantity  instead  of  mere  quality.  This  results 
from  the  comparison  of  the  objects  of  the  sublime  with  other  objects. 
This  is  what  we  call  the  negativit}'  of  the  sublime.  It  may  be  two- 
fold, positive  or  negative.  By  positive  negativity  we  understand 
the  relation  of  the  object  to  other  objects  besides  itself  The  oak 
becomes  sublime  by  comparison  with  other  trees  or  things  or  ob- 
jects b}^  negating  them,  that  is,  by  exposing  their  magnificence,  as 
if  the}-  did  not  exist. 

In  negative  negativity-,  the  appearance  of  the  idea  is  mostly  sud- 
den, so  that  it  bursts  forth  upon  the  mind  all  at  once,  even  if  it  be 
formed  gradually.  There  is,  then,  in  the  apprehension  of  the  Sub- 
lime a  sudden  rupture,  which  is  made  a  distinguishing  mark  by 
some  writers.  Both  forms  of  negativity  are  thus  carried  forward 
until  the  idea  seems  to  transcend  all  form.  When  we  contem- 
plate a  great  man,  we  first  view  him  in  comparison  with  other 
men  :  he  makes  them  appear  insignificant.  But  he  will  also  appear 
to  rise  above  the  common  conception  of  humanit3-,and  consequentl}- 
above  his  own  form.  When  such  a  point  is  gained,  when  this  point 
is  attained,  the  sublime  idea  seems  to  burst  the  vessel,  that  is,  the 
form  in  which  it  is  enshrined,  but  not  so  as  to  let  the  idea  escape. 
It  is  still  viewed  through  the  form.  Entire  privation  or  vacuity- 
does  not  yet  exist,  still  the  mind  may  regard  it  as  such,  as  space 
without  contents.  It  is  viewed  in  such  a  form  as  entirely-  to  sink 
all  other  forms  out  of  sight. 


Chap.  XLIX]  iESTHETics  681 

The  Sublime  nuuiifests  itself  under  various  forms.  Thus  we  have 
the  objective  sublime  in  space  or  immensity :  in  time  present,  past 
and  future,  or  in  eternity ;  the  sublime  in  power,  or  dynamic  sub- 
lime; and  the  subjective  sublime  in  human  passion,  in  tiie  good  or 
bad  will,  as  in  tragedy. 

As  we  have  seen,  Beauty  is  the  union  of  its  two  constituent  ele- 
ments, its  form  and  animating  idea,  where  both  are  in  a  state  of 
equipoise.  That  relation  of  equilibrium  may  be  disturbed  or 
destroyed;  in  the  Sublime  the  idea  preponderates,  but  if  the  form 
appears  to  overwhelm  the  idea  we  get  the  Comic.  In  neither  case 
are  the  two  sides  absolutely  sundered,  for  if  this  were  the  case,  the 
result  would  be  an  abstraction  on  the  one  hand  and  something 
monstrous  on  the  other.  The  case  requires  that  the  idea  should 
be  actually-  present  in  the  Comic,  whilst  the  form  predominates. 
There  is  such  a  close  relation  between  the  Comic  and  Sublime,  that 
the  former  can  come  out  only  through  the  latter.  The  Comic  in- 
volves not  merel\'  form,  but  at  the  same  time  a  rebounding  or  self- 
assertion  on  the  part  of  the  idea.  The  disturbance  among  the  ele- 
ments that  produce  the  Sublime  is  in  a  measure  the  relation  that 
calls  forth  the  Comic.  In  one  view  the  two  are  opposites ;  in  another 
an  inward  independence  subsists  between  them.  The  disturbance 
consequently  must  first  come  through  the  preponderance  of  the 
idea,  and  this  involves  a  sort  of  requisition  on  the  other  side  to 
assert  itself.  In  the  struggle  the  Sublime  has  alwa^-s  a  tendency 
to  fixll  over  into  the  Comic.  The  Sublime,  therefore,  cannot  be 
ordinarily  pressed  too  far  without  dissipating  itself  in  that  which 
is  just  its  opposite.  The  Comic  comes  into  view  through  the  Sub- 
lime, as  we  acknowledge  when  we  are  wont  to  say  that  "there  is  but 
one  step  between  the  Sublime  and  the  Ridiculous." 

The  Naive,  not,  however,  in  the  sense  of  boorish  ignorance,  is 
extensivel}-  jvsthetical.  True  beauty  and  true  sublimity  are  uncon- 
licious  of  themselves.  We  have  naivete  in  both,  but  it  is  more 
forcible  in  the  Comic,  although  it  is  not  of  the  same  account  in  all 
its  spheres.  There  are  only  certain  times  and  circumstances  in 
which  the  naive  is  appropriate.  The  propriet3'  must  be  conven- 
tional. In  conversation  certain  terms  of  respect  are  employed,  yet 
oftentimes  without  self-possession,  they  may  be  contradicted  by  an 
iudividuars  action  or  l)}-  his  real  meaning.  There  may  be  no  hy- 
l)Ocrisy  in  the  case  but  mere  simplicity'.  Something  may  be  said 
that  is  contradicted  b}-  something  of  an  opposite  character.  Here 
art  is  contradicted  by  nature — the  artificial  actions  and  conven- 
tionalities refuted  by  :iii  uuder-sense  of  tiieir  own  nature.  The  latr- 
43 


682  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

ter  rises  up  through  the  former.  Thus  we  get  the  naive.  Both  ele- 
ments are  present  in  the  same  subject ;  but  the  conception  of  the  naive 
requires  that  there  should  be  culture  and  not  mere  boorishness. 

The  comic  process  is  comparatively  unconscious,  as  in  naivete, 
either  by  reason  of  a  loaned  consciousness,  where  the  two  forms 
of  consciousness  are  both  in  possession  of  the  comic  party.  The 
terms  that  meet  each  other  have  predominantly  an  outward  form, 
and  partake  of  the  nature  of  real  action,  while  at  the  same  time 
the  general  character  of  the  Comic  must  be  maintained.  Thus 
we  get  the  Burlesque^  which  meets  us  under  the  character  of  boor- 
ishness among  servants,  children  and  others.  It  makes  its  appear- 
ance especially  in  the  Saturnalia  of  the  Italians,  among  whom  it  is 
national.  But  the  Comic  comes  to  its  expi-ession  under  a  higher' 
character  in  Wit,  or  still  higher  in  Humor.  It  shows  itself  in 
rough  jokes,  knocking  off  hats,  tripping  up  feet — a  kind  of  sport, 
consisting  not  in  words  but  actions  at  which  no  refined  taste  would 
laugh.  The  Comic  in  the  form  of  the  Burlesque  is  introduced  into 
exhibitions,  depending  on  the  relative  culture  and  nationality  of 
the  people.  The  Italians  are  particularly  fond  of  it.  In  comic 
exhibitions  of  this  kind  harlequins  and  puppets  are  introduced, 
and  one  necessarj^  feature  is  physical  deformity  or  ugliness.  Thus 
the  harlequin  has  a  great  unwieldy  form,  wears  a  mask,  has  a  big 
body  and  other  things  in  accordance.  The  exhibitions  of  the 
Comic  involve  two  forms  of  consciousness  meeting  in  the  same 
person.  It  required  a  great  deal  of  intelligence  to  be  a  conrt-fool 
in  the  Middle  Ages. 

The  Burlesque  has  place  where  the  process  goes  forward  under  a 
mainly  outward  form,  has  the  character  of  action,  and  is  thus  sim- 
ple and  rude.  The  character  of  the  Comic  under  this  is  similar  to 
that  of  Naivete,  not  having  any  malice  in  it.  It  serves  a  good  pur- 
pose in  society,  acting  as  a  safetj^-valve,  carr^ang  off  the  dissipated 
feeling  that  could  not  be  set  aside  in  an^-  other  way.  It  is  a  con- 
servative force.  In  this  form  it  presents  itself  under  the  uncon- 
scious Naive. 

From  the  absurd  or  mere  fun  in  this  form  we  pass  to  the  consid- 
eration of  Wit.  In  this  we  meet  with  logical  reflection,  in  which 
there  is  the  power  of  perceiving  absurdities  that  lie  bej^ond  their  out- 
ward palpable  form  in  the  hidden  recesses  of  the  spirit.  Wit  finds 
its  exercise  principallj^  in  the  sphere  of  intelligence  and  will.  There 
is  room  for  it  under  the  form  of  Cynicism, but  it  must  have  a  differ- 
ent form  from  that  which  it  has  under  the  Burlesque,  inasmuch 
as  it  is  here  refined  into  thought.     Wit  is  not  only  thought,  but  it 


Chap.  XLIX]  esthetics  683 

has  to  do  witli  u  thought  which  stands  before  the  mind  as  a  picture. 
The  mind  fluctuates  between  the  two,  the  logical  conception  and 
the  aesthetic  representation.  Language  then  becomes  necessar}'  for 
the  exercise  of  wit,  which  proceeds  from  a  direct  intuitive  percep- 
tion and  lays  hold  of  the  proper  image.  The  latter  is  picked  up 
suddenly'  in  some  sphere  foreign  to  the  thought  and  immediately 
and  directly  brought  into  connection  with  it.  All  here  must  be 
intuitive  and  spontaneous.  All  premeditated  jests  lose  their  force. 
Thus  the  contradictor}-  character  of  the  Comic  in  general  is  in- 
sured, b}'  the  tw^o  forms  meeting  in  one  consciousness.  All  must 
be  brief,  sudden  like  a  flash,  instantaneous.  Hence  we  say  that 
"brevit}'  is  the  soul  of  Wit." 

Humor  is  the  third  form  of  the  Comic.  Wit  and  Humor  are  often 
confounded,  and  3-et  there  is  a  distinction  between  the  two.  In  the 
latter  we  have  the  former  advanced  to  its  perfect  form,  where  it 
again  partakes  also  of  the  nature  of  Burlesque  in  a  refined  form. 
In  its  manifestation  the  subject  is  brought  under  the  power  of  the 
person  b}-  Avhom  Humor  is  exercised.  In  the  case  of  Wit  there  is 
no  full  communion  between  the  two  sides,  although  there  is  an  eflfort 
to  bring  about  such  a  union  of  the  two  forms  of  consciousness, 
but  without  success.  In  Humor  that  difficult}-  is  surmounted.  In 
this  case  the  beholder  is  in  a  common  condition  or  sympathy  with 
him  in  whom  it  breaks  out,  as  it  is  seen  to  be  not  malignant  as  in 
Wit,  but  a  loving  spirit. 

Personal  existence,  wliich  is  involved  in  the  exercise  of  the  comic 
process,  must  always  carry  in  itself  the  first  term  of  the  universal 
process  of  the  Comic,  a  quasi  sublimity,  in  the  way  of  life,  but  with 
this  first  term,  greatness,  it  implies  also  the  second  term  or  the  im- 
measurabl}'  little.  It  matters  hot  whether  the  littleness  be  an  em- 
barrassment or  a  general  sense  of  contradiction  in  life.  Humor 
always  involves  a  felt  contrast  between  something  great  and  some- 
thing little,  and  yet  it  brings  the  two  into  full  union.  The  littleness 
may  attach  itself  to  the  person,  to  some  l»odily  defect  or  spiritual 
blemish,  and  this  helps  to  produce  the  humorous  representation. 

V>\\t  we  may  have  it  under  a  more  profound  view,  where  the 
humorous  feeling  connects  itself  not  merely  with  a  separate  indi- 
vidual but  with  nature  at  large,  the  individual  being  only  its  repre- 
sentative. It  then  attaches  to  the  observer,  and  for  this  purpose 
it  is  not  malicious,  but  just  the  opposite.  The  littleness  belongs 
to  humanit}'  in  general.  A  large  measure  of  humor  has  to  do  with 
the  crosses  and  contradictions  of  life,  and  the  feeling  produced  by 
liumor  will  assume  a  serious  character. 


684  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

Wit,  as  we  have  seen,  flashes  forth  instantaneously,  through  the 
sudden  contrast  of  opposite  terms.  Humor  is  the  result  of  a  gentle 
progressive  light.  The  character  of  Humor  is  that  of  a  keen  per- 
ception with  that  of  reigning  sensibility.  It  blends  a  lofty  feeling 
with  one  of  sadness,  which  seem  to  be  contradictor^^,  but  the  two 
are  made  to  meet  in  one  common  consciousness.  The  greatness 
enters  into  the  littleness,  making  sense  in  nonsense  or  mere  fun. 
It  thus  gives  rise  to  a  feeling  of  self-derision,  externally  repre- 
sented in  laughter,  where  the  person  who  laughs  has  himself  to  be 
laughed  at  as  much  as  the  object  of  his  laughter.  This  gives  rise 
to  a  feeling  of  sadness. — Generally  Humor  belongs  to  aged  ex- 
perience, and  not  to  untried  youth.  It  must  possess  experience  in 
trials,  and  its  best  representatives  have  been  old  men,  although  the 
young,  putting  on  the  airs  of  old  men,  may  exercise  it  in  a  naive 
wa}'. 

Whilst  Humor  has  to  do  with  simple  existence  in  which  the  two 
forms  are  made  to  meet,  j-et  it  carries  with  it  a  reference  to  life 
under  a  universal  view.  Where  it  comes  out,  littleness  or  mean- 
ness does  not  attach  exclusively  to  individuals  but  to  the  whole 
race.  Here  it  differs  from  Wit,  which  has  to  do  with  single  exist- 
ences or  separate  single  individuals.  Humor,  on  the  other  hand, 
comprehends  in  the  individual  the  image  of  what  is  general.  Hence 
the  personal  presence  or  object  becomes  the  mirror,  causing  all  hu- 
man greatness  to  appear  in  conflict  with  littleness.  The  one  is 
uniA^ersally  in  contrast  with  the  other,  but  the  contradiction  is  here 
made  to  centre  in  an  individual.  Humor  consists  in  the  fixed  habit 
of  perceiving  this  contradiction,  and  as  it  comes  to  include  sym- 
pathy' with  the  abnormal  world,  it  awakens  a  feeling  of  sadness. 
There  cannot,  therefore,  be  any  true  humor  except  as  it  is  tinged 
with  this  state  of  mind. 

The  process,  however,  does  not  end  here.  Its  design  is  to  bring- 
about  a  union  of  the  two  sides.  Humor  cannot  stop  or  rest  in  a 
mere  feeling  of  sadness,  but  seeks  to  carr}^  us  over  to  harmonj-  in 
another  view.  The  littleness  in  the  greatness,  and  vice-versa,  cause 
a  feeling  of  forebearing  towards  the  contradiction,  and  from  a  feel- 
ing of  love  seeks  to  place  the  person  on  good  terms  with  himself 
and  others.  It  sees  things  with  a  double  vision,  throwing  all  things 
into  disorder,  and  finally  bringing  harmony  out  of  the  confusion. 
The  union,  however,  is  not  brought  about  by  a  flash,  but  is  a  con- 
tinuous process. — The  language  of  humor  partakes  of  the  nature  of 
mental  derangement,  because  it  gets  be^'ond  the  range  of  common 
sense  in  taking  up  contradictions  and  forcing  them  into  view.     The 


Chap.  XLIX]  aesthetics  685 

old  coiiit-fools,  so  called  because  their  thinking  ran  counter  to  com- 
mon sense,  oftentimes  embodied  the  greatest  wisdom  in  their  say- 
ings.— Socrates  was  regarded  as  a  transcendentalist  walking  among 
the  clouds,  not  so  much  because  of  his  metaphysical  speculations, 
as  because  he  had  such  a  deep  sense  of  the  contradictions  by  which 
he  was  surrounded.     Diogenes  was  called  a  "raving  Socrates." 

In  our  iucjuiries  thus  far,  our  attention  has  not  l)een  directed  to 
objects  of  beauty  in  the  natural  world,  but  simply  to  the  constitu- 
tion of  beauty  itself  as  a  preparatory  step.  The  next  step  in  the 
inquiry  is,  to  consider  in  wdiat  forms  of  actual  existence  the  world 
of  beaut}''  is  to  be  found.  We  may  seem  to  have  a  sufficient  answer 
to  this  question  when  we  say  that  it  meets  us  in  the  world  of  nature 
at  large.  But  it  has  long  been  felt  that  this  is  not  sufficient  or  sat- 
isfactory; because,  however  the  presence  of  beaut}^  meets  us  in  the 
actual  world,  it  cannot  be  actualized  except  by  a  power  from  within 
us.  The  animal  cannot  see  beauty  anj-where,  because  it  has  no 
power  of  apprehending  the  objects  of  nature,  however  beautiful 
they  may  be  to  us. 

Where  then  is  the  world  of  beauty  to  be  found  ?  The  answer  to 
this  question  has  been  given,  that  it  is  not  to  be  found  in  nature 
but  in  mind,  or  in  the  idealized  power  of  the  mind.  This,  however, 
may  be  pressed  so  far  as  to  make  no  account  of  nature  at  all. 
Beauty  would  then  hold  not  in  nature  nor  the  idea  as  an  objective 
existence,  but  in  the  ideals  of  things,  that  is,  the  idealization  of 
natural  objects,  by  which  we  put  into  things  what  is  not  in  them 
b}'  nature,  which  is  a  mere  abstraction. 

Neither  of  these  views  is  satisfactory,  although  there  is  truth 
in  each.  We  cannot  say  that  the  outward  has  nothing  to  do  with 
beauty,  because  it  must  always  be  before  us  in  some  presence. 
Neither  can  we  deny  that  it  is  independent  of  all  idealization.  The 
true  actualization  of  beauty  combines  the  two,  giving  us  a  world 
that  is  not  nature  only  nor  thought  only,  but  a  new  creation,  by 
which  the  idealization  of  the  mind  is  projected  by  it  back  upon  na- 
ture, and  as  a  result  of  this  we  have  Art. — Here  we  see  the  differ- 
ence between  the  Good,  the  True,  and  the  Beautiful.  The  first  has 
to  do  with  tiie  Will,  the  second  with  the  Intelligence,  and  the  last 
with  the  Imagination. — In  order  to  understand  therefore  this  world 
of  Art,we  must  consider  beaut}'^  as  it  exists  in  nature,  realiter;  and 
then  as  it  exists  in  the  mind,  idealiter. — But  this  brings  us  to  the 
limit. which  necessit}-  has  set  for  us  here  in  the  further  presentation 
of  aisthetical  studies,  according  to  Dr.  Nevin's  lectures. 


CHAPTER  L 

WHEN  Dr.  Nevin  was  president  of  the  College  at  Mercersbiirg, 
he  taught  Moral  Philosophy  as  the  Science  of  Christian 
Ethics,  the  same  as  had  been  taught  b}"  his  predecessor,  Dr.  Ranch. 
According  to  this  S3^stem  all  true  morality  must  come  from  the 
union  of  the  human  and  the  divine  will,  brought  about  in  a  truly 
moral  man  by  Christianit}'.  The  divine  law,  by  the  process  of  re- 
generation, enters  the  human  will  and  becomes  its  own  law  or  active 
power  in  all  of  its  determination.  Ethics  thus  considered  is  a 
branch  of  Theology.  But  it  ma}-  be  treated  also  as  a  branch  of 
Philosoph}^,  and  as  such  it  becomes  Philosophical  Ethics,  accord- 
ing to  which  morality  is  to  be  studied  in  its  rise  and  progress  as  an 
intuition  of  human  consciousness,  apart  from  any  direct  assistance 
from  Theology  or  the  Bible.  It  does  not  ignore  either  the  one  or 
the  other.  It  is  a  free  activity  of  the  human  mind,  and  it  ma3^  be  just 
as  Chi'istian  as  any  system  of  Theological  Ethics  or  even  more  so, 
especially  if  the  theological  element  is  one-sided  or  mechanical. 
Thus  we  may  have  a  speculative  s^'stem  of  Philosoph}-,  which 
may  be  Christian  or  antichristian,  just  as  the  author  is  pervaded 
by  the  spirit  of  religion  or  irreligion.  It  is  precisely  so  with  a 
system  of  Philosophical  Ethics.  When  properly  treated  it  is  in 
fact  the  complement  of  Christian  Ethics.  This  it  became  in  the 
hands  of  Dr.  Nevin. 

He  concluded  to  teach  Ethics  as  a  philosophical  science  in  the 
College  at  Lancaster,  because  it  had  made  important  strides  in 
Germany  after  the  death  of  Ranch  in  1841.  Accordingly,  he  se- 
cured the  latest  and  the  best  works,  bearing  on  this  science,  re- 
produced their  leading  thoughts  on  the  subject,  and  wrought  out  his 
own  system  in  a  course  of  regular  lectures  to  the  students.  He  re- 
garded with  favor  the  works  of  the  3'ounger  Fichte — J.  H.  Fichte, — 
whose  philosoph}^  on  the  whole  presents  the  best  school,  that  sprang 
up  after  the  time  of  the  elder  Fichte,  Schelling,  Hegel  and  Herbart. 
— The  outline  of  Dr.  Nevin 's  lectures  here  given  is  based  on  the 
notes  of  his  students,  but  more  particularly  on  the  lectures  of  Dr. 
Thomas  G.  Appel,  his  successor  in  the  presidency  of  the  College. 
As  in  the  case  of  -(Esthetics,  we  give  a  summary  of  the  topics  dis- 
cussed, and  then  consider  the  more  prominent  general  principles 
underl3'ing  the  science. 

(686) 


Chap.  L]  ethics  68Y 

I. —  Lonmafa  or  Postulates  derived  from  Metaph^-sics,  Ps^'chol- 
ogy,  and  Practical  Philosoph}',  underlying  the  construction  of  a 
science  of  Ii]tliics. — Ethical  Ideas. — The  Idea  of  Bight,  internally 
and  externally  considered. — Its  actualization.^-The  Idea  of  Social 
Integration. — The  Idea  of  Religion  as  the  bond  of  union  between 
the  two  other  Ideas.— The  Freedom  of  the  Will.— Stages  of  Will. 
— The  Natural  Will  in  relation  to  the  Good. — Its  Transition  to  a 
higher  stage  of  character. — Character  in  relation  to  the  Good. — 
The  highest  Good  in  the  psychological  and  in  the  ethical  sense. — 
Character  in  relation  to  personality. — Its  tendency  to  self-preser- 
vation, as  an  appetency. — Self-assertion  or  selfishness. — Sense  of 
Honor. — Ethical  Character. — The  Supreme  Good. 

II. —  Virtue. — Its  relation  to  Duty  and  the  Good. — Its  Contents. 
— As  an  Endowment. — As  an  emptying  of  Self  in  bod}-  and  mind. 
— As  a  moral  wakefulness,  defensive  and  progressive. — Yirtue  as  a 
system. — Love  or  Enthusiasm. — Steadfastness. — Wisdom. — Con- 
siderateness  or  Circumspection. — The  Conception  of  Duty. — Its 
Relation  to  Yirtue. — Three  stages  of  Dut_y — the  External,  the  In- 
ternal, and  their  union  or  reconciliation, — Duties  to  ourselves, 
Self-preservation,  Self-perfection. — Duties  to  others,  general  and 
l)articular. — Duties  of  Vocation,  absolute  and  relative. — The  inter- 
nal Relation  of  the  three  orders. — Collision  of  Duties, 

III. —  The  Good. — Development  of  the  Idea  of  Right. — The 
rights  of  personality,  of  life,  of  the  body,  of  self-support,  of  per- 
sonal liberty,  of  civil  and  political  freedom,  of  ethical  and  spiritual 
freedom,  of  marriage,  of  property,  of  traffic,  of  self-defence,  of  a  civil 
trial. — Penalties  as  a  satisfaction,  viewed  from  a  moral  stand-point. 
— The  actualization  of  the  Idea  of  Social  Integration. — The  Idea  of 
Marriage  and  its  duties. — The  Family. — The  Right  of  Inheritance. 
— The  Idea  of  the  State. — Its  development,  as  an  Organism. — Po- 
litical Constitutions. — Civil  Power. — Popular  Representation. — 
Pulilic  Opinion. — The  Civil  Administration. — The  Rights  of  Peace 
and  War. — Treaties  and  Diplomac}'. — The  Bond  connecting  States. 
— The  development  of  universal  intercourse. — World  Citizenship. 
— The  Arts. — Sciences. — Intellectual  Culture. — The  Humanities. — 
Societ}'. — Association  for  Humanitarian  Purposes. — Friendship. — 
The  Actualization  of  the  Idea  of  Religion. — Its  Relation  to  Mo- 
ralit}'. — Its  Embodiment  in  the  Church^ — The  Organism  of  the 
Church. — Its  Relation  to  the  State,  and  to  the  Family. — The  uni- 
versal, historical  and  permanent  Church. — Considered  as  the  Real- 
ization of  the  Idea  of  Humanity. — Ethics  fundamental  to  a  true 
Theodic}'  and  Eschatology. 


688  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

Ethics,  or  the  science  of  the  Good,  is  closely  related  to  other 
sciences,  such  as  Metaphysics,  Psychology  and  the  Physical 
Sciences.  As  we  cannot  refer  to  these  at  length,  we  borrow  from 
them  certain  Lemmata  or  Postnlates  snch  as  we  need  for  onr  pur- 
pose. 

1.  The  universe  as  a  whole,  including  the  starry  heavens,  is  a 
system  that  looks  to  some  absolute  end. 

2.  For  the  Earth  man  is  this  end.  Nature  looks  towards  him  as  a 
spiritual  existence  for  its  completion.  It  is  not  sufficient  in  itself, 
nor  complete.  This  is  evident,  if  we  onlj'  consider  what  it  is  in  the 
light  of  intelligence. — Man  is  the  end  of  nature;  not  merel}'  as  an 
individual,  for  as  such  he  is  simpl}^  a  part  of  one  vast  organism, 
but  in  the  sense  of  humanity,  which,  as  a  whole,  comes  to  a  proper 
expression  only  in  history',  and  the  world,  therefore,  has  its  end  in 
the  results  of  history. 

3.  Humanity  itself  is  essentiallj^  one  as  spirit.  This  carries  us 
back  to  an  ultimate  existence  in  which  humanity  stands  as  a  whole 
or  a  unit}^,  which  is  spiritual,  and  as  such  differs  fi'om  a  mere  nat- 
ural unity.  All  individual  existences  in  the  human  world  stand 
in  this  unity  of  spiritual  existence,  which  is  bound  in  its  origin  to 
God.  This  is  just  the  same  as  saying  that  man  is  a  social  being. 
It  is  something  that  we  might  consider  as  resulting  merely  from  an 
external  likeness  or  similarity  among  men;  but  it  implies,  in  fact, 
that  in  the  development  of  consciousness,  in  the  case  of  each  indi- 
vidual, there  is  a  reference  to  this  ideal  unity,  which  comes  to  an 
expression  in  his  existence. 

4.  Man  has  a  psychic  extstence,  because  his  animal  organization 
is  animated  by  a  soul,  which  differs  from  the  animal  soul,  and  is 
the  result  of  spirit  in  the  centre  of  his  consciousness.  Here  na- 
ture and  the  world  are  brought  together,  and  in  man  worked  up  by 
a  process  which  is  different  from  that  in  the  case  of  other  creatures. 
The  immediate  end  here  is  self-preservation,  which  as  a  power  is 
the  ruling  principle.  ludividualit}^  is  here  ruled  b}^  the  distinctions 
of  race,  nationality^  sex,  and  so  on,  which  run  out  into  endless 
peculiarities.     No  two  persons  can  be  found  who  look  exactly  alike. 

5.  The  individuality  in  man  has  a  spiritual  side  also  in  his  nature, 
which  is  different  from  that  which  has  its  origin  in  nature.  The 
Hegelian  philosophy  on  its  pantheistic  side  traces  individuality 
onl}^  through  nature. — God  comes  to  self-consciousness  in  this  way 
only  through  man,  and  we  thus  lose  all  support  for  the  immortalit}^ 
of  individual  men.     In  opposition  to  this,  we  must  recognize  a  law 

•  of  individualization  on  the  spiritual  side  of  humanity,  a  genius  or 


Chap.  L]  etiitcs  689 

an  original  tlioii<r!it  of  God.  in  every  m:tn.  The  nnttirjil  and  the 
spiritual  are  ori^anieally  joined  together  in  him  as  mutual  counter- 
parts or  mirrors. 

().  In  actualizing  his  individuality  from  the  spiritual  side  the  in- 
visible Avorld  meets  him  in  the  form  of  ideas, not  notions  or  concep- 
tions, but  in  forms  of  s[)iritual  powers  and  existences  in  the  True, 
the  Beautiful,  the  Good,  and  in  Religion.  Each  of  these  has  an  ob- 
jective, spiritual  constitution  of  its  own.  Truth  is  not  merely  a  true 
thought,  not  merely  a  correspondence  of  thought  with  the  nature 
of  things,  ])ut  a  real  substantial  existence.  The  same  is  true  of  the 
Beautiful.  The  Good,  as  actualized  in  the  Will,  is  also  an  idea, 
comes  from  the  divine  will,  and  affords  the  possibility  of  love.  Here 
we  come  to  the  practical  side  of  man's  spiritual  nature,  by  Kant 
denominated  the  Practical  Reason,  where  he  finds  the  possibility 
of  positing  the  Divine,  the  Absolute  or  the  idea  of  God. 

There  is  a  difference  in  the  three  fundamental  ideas  referred  to. 
The  Good  seems  to  be  the  highest.  There  is  an  obligation  pertain- 
ing to  the  will  of  a  higher  character  than  that  which  attaches  to 
the  True  and  the  Beautiful.  It  manifests  itself  in  what  Kant  calls 
the  Categorical  Imperative,  as  contained  in  the  words,  Thou  shalt. 
To  contradict  the  truth  gives  us  error;  in  the  case  of  the  Beautiful, 
ugliness  is  the  result  of  a  contradiction  ;  and  in  the  case  of  the  Good, 
sin  in  a  deep  sense. — This  imperative  belongs  to  the  will  of  the  in- 
dividual as  such, and  gives  us  what  for  him  ought  to  be  that  which 
is  right.  It  is  not  something  empirical ;  it  does  not  come  to  him 
in  an}-  external  way  as  the  result  of  any  previous  theory;  but  is  an 
a  priori  intuition.  Hence  we  get  the  Idea  of  Bight  as  entering 
into  the  idea  of  the  good. 

But  the  individual  will  is  related  to  other  wills  by  a  common 
origin.  Mankind  is  an  organism,  ethically  as  well  as  intellectually 
and  physically  considered.  Man  is  born  into  the  world  in  the 
midst  of  social  relations,  and  these  relations  necessarily^  enter  into 
the  development  of  his  moral  being.  This  gives  rise  to  the  second 
ethical  idea  in  the  process  of  actualizing  the  Good,  which  may 
be  called  Social  Integration.  As  the  Itranch  takes  \\\)  into  itself 
the  life  of  the  tree,  and  by  so  doing  becomes  active  in  converting 
it  into  woody  fibre,  so  the  individual  develops  his  moral  being  in 
organic  union  with  the  life  of  society,  back  of  which  is  the  ideal 
unity  of  the  race. 

The  completion  of  the  ideas  referred  to  is  found  in  JieJigion, 
which  is  likewise  an  a  priori  intuition  in  man.  It  is  a  part  of  his 
nature,  something  universal  in  the  race, and  grows  out  of  his  yearn- 


690  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    18(31-1876  [DiV.  XI 

ing  for  communion  with  God.  There  is  only  one  absolute  religion, 
but  all  subjective  religion  stands  in  one  common  want  of  man  or  of 
humanity  at  large.  Hence  the  three  ethical  ideas,  Right,  Social 
Integration  and  Religion,  demand  the  first  consideration  in  all 
ethical  inquiries. 

The  idea  of  the  Right  implies  obligation  to  that  which  ma3'  be  en- 
forced, and  so  it  might  be  thought  that  it  is  in  conflict  with  the 
idea  of  Freedom  as  this  holds  in  the  principle  of  love.  But  there  is 
in  reality  here  no  conflict.  Love  must  be  lawful,  just  as  law  em- 
bodies love. — The  idea  of  freedom  requires  that  we  should  take  into 
consideration  the  reciprocal  relation  of  the  individual  and  society, 
the  particular  and  the  general.  Rights  have  reference  primarily  to 
the  individual,  and  are  what  he  requires  in  order  to  \infold  his  being. 
But  in  this  process  he  must  have  reference  not  only  to  himself,  but 
to  others  also.  There  are  restrictions  here  which  he  must  recog- 
nize, and  in  this  he  flnds  his  freedom.  Such  limitation  is  not  the 
result  of  any  social  contract  or  agreement,  that  the  individual  shall 
surrender  certain  natural  rights,  as  the}'  are  sometimes  called,  for 
the  general  good.  This  theory-  is  based  on  the  idea  that  man  is 
first  an  individual  and  that  society  comes  afterwards.  There  can- 
not, however,  be  any  such  precedence  of  the  one  over  the  other. 
The  two  are  organically  related  and  exist  together.  In  one  sense 
society  is  first,  and  the  individual  comes  in  as  its  product,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  family,  so  that  there  can  be  no  natural  individual  rights 
that  can  be  recognized  in  such  form.  The  relation  here  is  that  of 
personalities  and  must  be  free,  not  in  the  order  of  nature  or  of  neces- 
sity, but  spiritual,  and  is  therefore  one  of  freedom. — It  is  not 
meant  here  that  freedom  is  the  same  as  right,  but  that  it  involves 
right.  The  relation  of  the  one  to  the  other  is  similar  to  that  of  two 
concentric  circles,  the  one  involving  the  other,  and  the  one  only  a 
widening  of  the  other.  The  idea  of  right  is  self-asserting ;  but  there 
is  in  man  a  process  of  drawing  of  one  individual  towards  another, 
so  that  both  may  find  their  necessary-  complements.  As  in  the 
planetar}'  system,  each  one  is  the  subject  of  a  centripetal  and  cen- 
trifugal force. 

From  what  has  been  said,  it  is  clear  that  Right  involves  a  move- 
ment, and  is  consequently  historical.  It  does  not  come  to  pass 
through  a  priori  rules  or  regulations,  devised  on  some  intellectual 
scheme — on  a  procrustean  bed — to  which  society  must  then  adapt 
itself  On  the  contrary  it  is  to  be  regarded  rather  as  the  result  of 
an  historical  process,  in  which  the  universal  adapts  itself  to  given 
cases.     The  general  idea  is  indeed  a  priori,  but  its  forms  of  manifes- 


Chap.  L]  ethics  691 

tation  come  in  the  wa}-  of  an  historical  movement.  The  former 
concretes  itself  in  cnstoms  and  habits,  and  these  graduall}-  acquire 
the  power  of  laws.  If  then  we  inquire  into  the  origin  of  laws,  we 
shall  see  that  in  one  view  they  all  have  their  origin  in  the  idea  of 
Right;  but  in  another  view,  the}-  take  their  origin  in  the  rudiment- 
ary developments  of  society'.  It  is  difficult  to  say  just  when  and 
where  they  begin.  Hence  the  study  of  I^aw  has  its  beginning  and 
foundation  in  history,  and  here  history  and  theor}-  come  together. 
This  is  the  problem  with  which  Blackstone  is  mainl}-  occupied. 

The  conceptions  of  law  and  equit}'  are  not  necessarily  opposed  to 
each  other,  but  are  both  necessary  to  the  idea  of  Right.  In  the 
nature  of  the  case  laws  can  never  be  finished  or  be  complete;  neither 
can  thej'  be  universal,  just  because  they  are  the  forms  of  api)lying 
the  idea  of  the  Right,  and  the  applications  xavy.  The  most  funda^ 
mental  laws  are  of  this  character.  Hence  the  habeas  corpus  may 
be  suspended  and  the  pardoning  power  enlarged. 

The  formation  of  laws  primarily  is  not  so  much  a  matter  of  intel- 
lectual calculation  as  of  intuitive  inspiration.  The  general  con- 
sciousness rules  in  this  case  as  a  kind  of  instinct.  Some  one,  or  some 
few,  catch  the  spirit  of  laws  by  a  sort  of  inspiration,  in  the  sense 
that  they  are  inspired  by  the  idea  of  Right,  and  the}'  become  law- 
givers and  law-framers,  such  as  Solon  and  Lycurgus,  who  were 
thought  to  be  in  communion  with  the  gods. — Law  then  comes  be- 
fore us  in  three  different  forms,  as  Common  Law,  Statute  Law,  and 
Jurisprudence. 

Social  completion  grounds  itself  in  an  original  relationship  back 
of  existence  in  time,  in  the  Divine  mind  or  appointment.  As  such 
in  the  form  of  idea,  it  involves  integration ^ih^^  normal  relationship 
of  man  in  the  order  of  society.  The  idea  of  Right  is  self-asserting, 
but  there  is  in  man  a  process  of  attraction  by  which  one  individual 
is  drawn  towards  another,  so  that  both  may  find  their  coni[)lements 
in  each  other.  The  individual,  as  he  stands  in  society,  is  the  sub- 
ject both  of  a  centripetal  and  a  centrifugal  force. — The  integration  of 
men  into  social  union  is  promoted  b}-  such  feelings  as  pity,  compas- 
sion, lienevolence,  humility,  reverence,  gratitude,  mutual  affection. 

The  third  or  highest  ethical  idea  is  found  in  lieliyion.  We  can 
easily  see  that  morality  never  becomes  complete  or  actualized  in 
itself  without  religion.  It  is  a  si)here  in  itself,  and  as  such  we 
must  study  it  as  a  framework  which  religion  takes  up,  leavens,  and 
l)enetrates  with  vitality  and  life.  This  will  appear  from  a  con- 
sideration of  the  relation  of  Religion  to  our  personal  existence.  We 
have  various  faculties,  such  as  intellect,  will,  affections  and  so  on. 


692  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-187C  [DiV.  XI 

These  are  innate  and  are  not  conferred  upon  us  by  Cbristianit}'  or 
religion  in  general.  But  Religion,  especially  in  the  form  of  Chris- 
tianity, gives  them  new  life  and  power.  So  morality  bases  itself 
upon  our  moral  nature  and  relations  in  society,  as  these  involve  the 
idea  of  Right  and  of  Social  Integration.  But  Religion  is  thebroad- 
er  sphere  in  which  the}^  become  complete,  without  which  moralit}- 
must  remain  defective  and  incomplete.  Under  one  view,  Religion 
or  God  might  come  first  in  a  s^'stem  of  Ethics,  because  as  we  have 
seen,  the  end  rules  the  beginning;  but  we  ma}-  pursue  the  other 
course  also,  as  we  do  in  the  present  ethical  inquiry. 

Moral  existence  consists  in  the  right  development  of  the  powers 
and  forces  that  are  at  hand  in  man's  moral  nature.  The}-  are  nat- 
ural instincts  on  the  one  hand,  and  ideal  on  the  other  by  which  we 
do  not  mean  that  they  are  not  substantial.  They  simpl}'  wait  for 
actualization  through  the  will.  This  brings  forward  the  difficult 
question  of  the  nature  of  the  will,  as  difficult  and  mysterious  as 
that  of  pure  thinking  in  Psychologv. 

The  question  pertains  to  the  Liberty  of  the  Will.- — In  its  consid- 
eration, it  will  help  us  if  we  keep  before  our  minds  the  close  rela- 
tion and  resemblance  of  life  in  man  and  in  nature  below  man.  The 
first  point  here  lies  in  the  nature  of  self-determination  as  charac- 
teristic of  the  will.  Does  this  imply  that  the  act  is  causeless  ? 
Does  the  will  act  without  a  cause  ?  Are  we  carried  beyond  the  re- 
lation of  cause  and  effect  when  we  reach  the  sphere  of  the  will  ? 
This  is  sometimes  maintained,  but  it  will  be  found  that  it  is  based 
on  a  misunderstanding  of  what  is  meant  by  causation  as  applied 
to  will.  If  there  were  no  causation  here,  we  should  have  only 
chance,  the  result  of  indifl*ereuce.  There  is  a  sense  in  which  we  do 
get  beyond  causation  as  found  in  nature,  but  that  is  when  we  reach 
the  true  sphere  of  the  will. 

Necessity  may  be  conceived  of  as  something  outward  or  exter- 
nal, which  would  destro}^  the  nature  of  Will.  But  it  may  also  be 
viewed  as  internal,  as  entering  into  the  constitution  of  the  Will 
itself,  and  then  liberty  and  necessity  come  together  and  become 
one,  which  constitutes  the  highest  conception  of  Freedom. 

Even  in  the  forms  of  existence  in  nature,  we  may  see  that  caus- 
ation is  not  altogether  external,  but  that  it  involves  also  a  deter- 
mination that  comes  from  within,  which  makes  room  for  variet}'  in 
individuation.  In  the  plant,  for  instance,  there  is  an  internal  prin- 
ciple that  determines  its  growth  and  development,  in  the  way  of 
antagonism  against  external  forces.  The  outward  here  is  the  con- 
dition, which  acts  in  the  waj'  of  excitation  or  stimulus.     What  the 


Chap.  L]  ethics  093 

plant  is  to  be  or  to  Ijecome  is  determined  In-  an  inner  law.  In  the 
animal  we  see  this  inward  power  still  more  active,  involving  man^- 
possibilities,  whose  specific  actualization  depends  on  a  determina- 
tion from  within.  So  it  is  in  the  case  of  the  bird  when  it  is  fright- 
ened b3'  the  report  of  a  gun.  Its  course  is  determined  b}-  some- 
thing in  its  life,  back  of  what  corresponds  to  consciousness. 

Men  ma}-  act  at  times  Avithout  conscious  reason  or  j^urpose,  yet 
there  is  that  back  of  consciousness  which  determines  their  actions; 
and  choice  implies  a  preference,  for  where  there  is  no  preference 
there  is  no  choice.  But  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  it  would  fol- 
low from  this  that  a  man's  character  ought  then,  like  the  motions 
of  the  planets,  to  be  fixed.  A  particular  volition  may  be  fixed,  but 
it  l)ecomes  such  because  of  Avhat  is  back  of  it  in  the  individual  life 
and  character.  This, however,  onl}-  shows  that  Avill  depends  on  char- 
acter, which  is  something  pliable.  It  is  formed  by  the  individual 
himself. and  may  therefore  be  changed, although  not  easily  at  certain 
stages.  We  sa_y  that  motivation  determines  the  will,  but  that  does 
not  tell  whence  comes  the  motivation  or  character.  This  is  a  difli- 
cult  question  to  answer.  For  the  present  it  must  sutlice  to  point 
out  two  erroneous  ansAvers  ;  one  is  Determinism,  in  the  sense  of  ex- 
ternal restraint,  as  in  the  theory-  of  Edwards,  which  leads  to  Fatal- 
ism ;  the  other  is  Indifferentism,  which  destroj's  the  idea  of  char- 
acter, and  makes  the  will  the  sport  of  mere  chance. 

The  genesis  and  normal  development  of  the  will  involves  a  three- 
fold process.  At  first  it  is  a  mere  natural  impulse.  In  this  stage, 
it  is  one  with  desire  or  appetite,  and  instinct  is  its  ruling  principle. 
It  shows  itself  in  this  kind  of  impulse  in  little  children.  There  are 
indeed  even  here  inward  tendencies  at  work,  produced  b}-  outward 
circumstances,  but  nevertheless  prompted  from  within. 

A  higher  stage  of  the  will  presents  itself  where  intelligence  in- 
tervenes between  it  and  impulse  or  appetite.  Passion  may  point 
in  one  direction  and  the  reason  in  another.  The  will  may  act  ac- 
cording to  reason,  or  the  contrary,  and  it  may  lie  either  good  or  bad. 

The  highest  stage  in  the  process  is  at  the  point  where  the  will 
becomes  possessed  or  inspired  with  the  absolute  idea  of  the  Good, 
which  then  takes  possession  of  it.  It  then  comes  to  move  for  the 
first  time  in  the  sphere  of  freedom,  which  lies  in  being  necessitated 
b}-  the  Good,  and  not  the  reverse  as  some  suppose.  Where  the 
former  does  not  take  place,  there  is  the  presence  of  an  enslavement. 
In  1)oth  cases  there  is  a  motivation;  yet  we  feel  that  where  the 
Good  takes  possession  of  the  will,  it  gives  it  strength  and  power, 
whereas  in  the  other  case  it  is  conscious  of  weakness.     In  evil  it  is 


694  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DlV.  XI 

weakness  itself,  enslaved  bj-  a  power  which  is  foreign  to  its  very 
nature  and  constitution. 

We  speak  of  virtue  in  plants  or  medicine,  and  Ca?sar  used  the 
term  virtus  to  express  courage  or  valor  in  war.  The  word  comes 
from  the  same  root  as  the  Latin  term  for  a  man,  vir,  as  distinguish- 
ed from  a  woman,  and  it  thus  has  the  primary  signification  of 
strength.  In  Ethics  it  is  used  to  designate  the  inward  qualification 
of  the  mind  for  an  ethical  life.  Its  presence  in  the  soul  starts  with 
the  un-selfing  of  the  will  through  the  inspiration  of  the  ethical  idea, 
which  is  a  wider  existence  than  the  individual  man. 

It  enters  into  the  will  and  takes  possession  of  it  in  such  a  way 
as  to  emancipate  it  from  the  power  of  mere  nature.  As  soon  as  the 
mind  comes  to  the  determination  or  resolution  of  making  the 
supreme  good  the  end  of  life  then  virtue  begins.  It  is  not  a  fixed 
state  of  the  mind,  in  the  sense  of  standing  still,  but  as  Kant  says, 
a  process  capable  of  perfectibility.  As  such  it  looks  to  action  or 
duty.  The  two  things,  virtue  and  duty,  are  joined  together  in  a 
concrete  union.  In  this  view  virtue  belongs  not  merely  to  the  in- 
dividual, but  to  societ}^  also  and  to  the  age  at  large,  where  it  ex- 
presses a  standing  qualification  for  fulfilling  the  requirements  of 
ethical  life.  Under  this  view  it  is,  in  its  fundamental  character, 
an  indivisible  state  or  power,  so  that  we  cannot  properl^^  speak  of 
different  virtues.  It  is  right-mindedness  of  soul,  yet  its  application 
admits  of  an  endless  phenomenology.  There  is  no  such  thing  as 
temperance,  chastity,  or  courage — separatel}'  taken — except  as  the}' 
are  grounded  in  virtue  as  one. 

Virtue  holds  only  in  its  full  ethical  character;  not  in  the  first  or 
second  stage  in  the  genesis  of  the  will ;  it  begins  where  the  reso- 
lution is  formed  to  make  the  supreme  good  the  supreme  end  of  life. 
It  may  be  feeble  in  its  beginning,  but  it  grows  in  power  as  it  ad- 
vances. It  is  a  power  or  force  in  the  will,  which  enables  it  to  act, 
and  then  it  involves  the  power  or  art  of  adaptability.  The  adapta- 
tion is  called  out  by  actual  occasions  in  life — the  virtue  is  one,  the 
adaptations  endless.  Hence  it  carries  in  it  the  character  of  Art,  the 
art  of  virtue,  which  as  such  maj  be  learned,  as  it  is  ever  diversified 
and  new.  In  its  tendency  to  manifest  itself  in  its  manifold  adapta- 
tions, it  ma}^  be  divided  like  temperaments,  or  colors  in  the  rain- 
bow which  blend  into  each  other  through  many  shades. 

Whether  virtue  can  ])e  taught  is  a  question  as  old  as  the  time  of 
Socrates,  and  can  be  answered  in  both  ways  without  involving  an}- 
contradiction  in  the  two  opposite  answers.  So  it  is  correct  to  say 
that  it  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  gift  or  endowment  as  well  as  an  acqui- 


Chap.  L]  ethics  695 

sitlon  gained  by  practice.  Priniaiil3-  it  conies  from  God, the  spirit- 
ual side  of  our  existence,  through  the  channel  of  ethical  ideas. — Dr. 
Nevin's  lectures  involve  this  origin  of  virtue,  and  it  is  character- 
istic of  all  his  ethical  thinking  to  regard  it  in  this  relation.  With 
him  it  was  a  substantial,  real  essence,  not  merely  a  theor}-  or  an 
intellectual  notion  or  abstraction.  Such  a  view,  however,  makes 
room  for  an  organic  growth  in  virtue,  and  excludes  the  concep- 
tion of  a  mechanical  aggregation  of  external  activities.  As  a  gift 
it  involves  activity  and  progress  on  the  part  of  the  mind  or  will. 

Virtue  begins  where  ethical  character  begins;  not  from  the  side 
of  nature,  but  from  the  spiritual  order,  where  the  Good  manifests 
itself  When  the  will  begins  to  asserts  itself  over  against  nature 
and  self,  under  the  inspiration  of  the  Good,  then  we  have  virtue. 
Therefore,  properly  speaking,  there  can  be  no  such  a  thing  as  ph\'S- 
ical  virtue,  because  as  such  it  can  exist  only  in  the  sphere  of  the 
Ethical. — As  a  process  it  ma^-  be  said  to  begin  in  the  purpose  or 
resolution  to  pursue  the  Supi-eme  Good;  it  then  passes  on  to  the 
point  of  practical  application  in  the  discharge  of  duty  ;  and  finally-, 
inward  harmonj'  is  the  result. 

In  this  entire  process,  it  is  the  idea  of  the  Good  that  is  the  source 
of  the  moral  inspiration,  which  does  not  come  from  the  ph3'sical  or 
spiritual  side  of  man's  existence,  but  from  be3'ond  itself  in  the 
Absolute  or  Good. — Virtue  must  come  before  us  as  the  process 
of  un-selling  the  will.  This  means  self-denial,  or  taking  up  the 
cross. — It  is  a  stadium  of  human  life,  as  experience  shows,  only  in 
the  element  of  the  Christian  religion,  which  is"  called  for  by  the 
Ethical  as  its  completion  and  consummation. 

The  un-selfing  of  the  will  under  the  inspiration  of  virtue  has  re- 
gard to  both  sides  of  a  man's  life,  to  body  as  well  as  soul.  Hence 
culture  or  the  art  of  virtue  takes  its  rise.  The  physical  side  calls 
for  dietetics  and  gA'mnastics ;  the  spiritual  side,  for  moral  culture, 
which  implies  the  subjugation  of  the  natural  will,  by  bringing  it 
under  the  dominion  of  truth  or  ethical  ideas.  The  mere  private 
will  must  be  brought  to  harmonize  with  a  higher  or  general  will, 
which  is  the  true  will.  Its  authority  must  be  internalized  bj'  disci- 
pline and  culture.  At  first  it  is  something  external,  and  as  such  it 
must  be  exercised  by  parents;  otlierwise  children  incur  a  heaA^y 
loss.  When  they  meet  outward  opposition  they  are  unprepared  for 
it,  and  thoy  become  transgressors.  Physical  force  must  be  called 
into  re(iuisition.  To  tlic  child  the  rod  is  a  sacrament — of  a  nega- 
tive character. 

There  may  be  a  classilication  of  virtues  just  as  with  tempera- 


696  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DlV.  XI 

ments.  Cardinal  Virtues  are  sucli  as  belong  to  virtue  as  a  whole,  to 
which  particular  virtues  sustain  an  organic  relation.  All  these  are 
indivisible,  are  bound  inseparably^  together,  so  that  where  the  one 
exists  the  others  are  also  present.  Temperance  in  drinking  is  no 
temperance  at  all,  unless  it  is  accompanied  by  moderation  in  all 
things. — Among  the  Greeks  the  Cardinal  virtues  were  wisdom,  forti- 
tude, righteousness  and  temperance;  S^Denser,  in  his  Faer^^  Queen, 
enumerates  six  of  them :  holiness  or  religion,  temperance,  chastit^^ 
friendship,  justice  and  courtesy;  and  in  the  old  Church  theolog^^ 
they  consisted  of  faith,  hope  and  charity.  Classifications  ma}'  thus 
vary.  What  is  most  important  here  is  to  bear  in  mind  that  virtue 
has  two  sides,  the  outward  and  the  inward,  and  that  the  latter  in- 
cludes a  right  estimation  of  ethical  relations  and  the  power  itself 
in  given  relations. 

After  Dr.  Nevin  had  thus  analyzed  virtue  into  its  elements,  he 
goes  on  to  consider  duties  as  the}'  are  derived  from  the  three  ethical 
ideas  which  underlie  a  system  of  Ethics  and  are  the  basis  of  all 
moralit}^,  namely  the  Right,  Social  Integration  and  Religion. 
Our  limits  here  will  allow  us  to  state  only  what  he  has  to  say  in 
reference  to  the  last  of  the  three. 

The  Ethical  Idea,  says  Dr.  Nevin,  involves  a  devout  sense  of 
God,  as  we  have  it  in  religion,  in  the  full  sense  of  the  term.  We 
cannot  say  that  the  moral  is  made  necessarj^  by  any  outward  law, 
but  that  it  assumes  this  character  b}-  the  inward  constitution  of 
man':  The  latter,  however,  is  grounded  in  a  higher  and  wider  being 
than  itself,  in  the  being  of  God.  Only  in  this  higher  relation  to 
God  can  we  become  complete,  and  hence  there  is  no  true  science 
of  morality  that  does  not  take  into  view  the  idea  of  our  inward  re- 
lationship to  God,  as  the  necessar}'  ground  of  our  existence  here 
in  nature.     This  is  what  the  Germans  call  Die  Innigkeit  Gottes. 

It  is  eas}^  to  see  how  the  actualization  of  the  moral  idea  can  never 
be  complete  except  as  it  is  viewed  in  this  relationship  to  God.  We 
feel  that  there  is  something  wanting  in  our  nature,  and  that  our 
human  life  is  an  ideal  that  is  never  fully  realized.  Nowhere  is  the 
harmony  perfect.  Men  have  dispositions  to  assist  each  other,  but 
circumstances  come  in  and  pervert  the  exercise  of  these  bencA'olent 
dispositions.  In  this  way  and  for  this  reason,  we  have  the  feeling 
of  a  social  obstruction,  hindering  us  in  assisting  others,  and  also 
the  feeling  of  a  want  in  ourselves  that  fails  to  be  satisfied. 

In  looking  at  human  life  under  this  view,  it  would  seem  to  in- 
volve an  entire  want  of  satisfaction  or  rest.  It  is  necessary-,  there- 
fore, that  we  should  rise  into  some  higher  sphere  of  existence. 


Chap.  L]  ethics  697 

which  shall  be  felt  to  possess  the  necessaiy  power  to  remove  the 
obstruction,  supply  the  want  and  integrate  the  delicienc}-.  This 
we  find  onl}-  in  religion,  in  our  God-consciousness.  This  makes 
room  for  love  in  its  absolute  universal  character,  as  there  is 
otherwise  no  room  for  it.  Our  love  for  our  fellowmen  meets  with 
these  obstructions,  which  could  not  be  overcome,  were  it  not  for 
the  fact  we  can  get  beyond  our  natural  consciousness  into  a  true 
God-consciousness.  There  can  be  no  true  union  among  men,  un- 
less it  is  at  the  same  time  a  union  through  God-consciousness.  Con- 
fidence, faith,  hope  and  charitj^  spring  from  this  relation  to  God  as 
our  common  ground  or  origin.  In  this  way  the  ultimate  perfection 
of  our  nature  is  anticipated.  Hence  room  has  been  made  for  the 
Church  and  a  new  order  of  communion  and  fellowship,  inaugurated 
for  this  purpose.  There  are  different  orders  of  association  among 
men,  just  as  there  are  different  wants  to  be  satisfied,  as  in  the  arts, 
sciences  or  business  in  general. 

But  religion  goes  beyond  these,  as  it  takes  in  all  the  relations  of 
life  under  the  view  of  its  unity  in  God.  For  this  the  Church  is 
something  more  compi-ehensive  and  deeper  than  all  other  forms  of 
communion,  because  it  comprises  the  universality  of  our  nature; 
and  for  this  reason  all  those  other  forms  of  associations,  such  as  of 
letters,  arts  or  sciences,  ought  to  be  comprehended  in  it.  This  is 
what  we  mean  by  the  Catholic  Church. 

We  have  now  considered  the  idea  of  Social  Co-integration,  the 
second  idea  of  the  Good.  In  looking  back  over  the  course  over 
which  we  have  passed  in  the  treatment  of  the  social  order  of  life, 
in  the  Family,  in  the  State,  and  in  Humanity  in  its  general  ethical 
features,  with  their  subdivisions,  we  cannot  fail  to  see  the  broad 
sweep  which  this  idea  takes,  and  how  far  reaching  the  principles  of 
Ethics  extend  in  relation  to  the  whole  field  of  social  science  in 
every  view.  Many  of  the  most  vital  problems  of  life  gather  here,  in 
statesmanship,  law,  and  in  what  are  called  questions  of  moral  reform. 
— Dr.  T.  G.  Appel  ends  his  last  lecture  on  Ethics  as  follows: 

Lastly,  we  have  to  consider  the  idea  of  religion, which  in  one  view 
would  lead  us  directly  into  the  region  of  theologj^  and  that  would 
take  us  be3'ond  the  limits  of  this  science.  Its  consideration  in  any 
case  must  bring  us  to  the  close  of  Ethics,  because  we  have  here  only 
the  transition  to  that  science.  In  one  view  the  science  has  to  do 
directly  with  the  idea  of  religion,  because  as  a  science,  apart  from 
revelation,  it  must  acknowledge  that  the  religious  nature  of  man  is 
the  highest  department  of  his  being,  and  that  his  relation  to  God 
has  to  do  vitally  with  all  of  his  ethical  relations.  So  fiir  even  phil- 
44 


698  AT   LANCASTER   PROM   1861-1876  [DlV.  XI 

osoph^'  must  recognize  the  idea  of  religion,  which  is  jnst  as  uni- 
versal and  necessar^^  as  all  other  ethical  ideas. 

The  idea  of  God  is  in  all  men,  no  matter  how  it  is  explained,  and 
man's  relation  to  Him  enters  fundamentally  into  ever}^  problem  of 
life,  whether  of  the  individual  or  of  society.  Man  cannot  live  with- 
out religion,  and  the  same  is  true  of  society  at  large.  Man  has  a 
religious  nature,  revealing  itself  in  his  sense  of  dependence  on  an 
Absolute  Being,  as  we  see  in  natural  reverence  and  faith.  That 
much  we  may  learn  from  Socrates  and  Plato  without  the  Bible. 
Yiewing  man  in  his  social  capacity,  where  can  we  find  a  nation  or 
a  people  in  history  that  does  not  possess  some  kind  of  religion  ?  It 
is  an  interest,  therefore,  that  pertains  to  science  and  philosophy  as 
well  as  theology,  the  two  occupying  common  ground. 

Therefore  religion  means  the  union  of  man  with  God,  and  this  con- 
stitutes the  most  fundamental  of  all  man's  relations.  So  much  the 
profoundest  thought  of  the  world  has  always  acknowledged.  To 
oppose  or  attempt  to  ignore  the  idea  of  religion,  therefore,  betrays 
not  only  an  unphilosophic  but  a  shallow  mind.  To  do  so  is  in 
truth  something  unnatural  and  immoral.  We  speak  not  here  of 
au}^  particular  form  of  religion,  such  as  Christianity,  but  of  the 
general  religious  idea.  And  we  may  also  add  that  no  honest  and 
earnest  mind  can  oppose  Christianitj'  without  being  prepared  to 
present  what  it  conceives  to  be  a  better  religion.  Where  this  is 
wanting,  all  such  opposition  can  command  no  claims  to  respect. 

What  then  is  the  relation  of  ethics  to  religion,  which  for  us  is 
Christianity  ?  The  first  point  to  be  considered  is  that  morality, 
■according  to  what  has  been  said,  growing  out  of  the  ideas  of  Right 
and  Social  ('O-integration,  cannot  actualize  its  own  ideal  without 
religion.  This  is  apparent  whether  we  have  regard  to  the  individ- 
ual or  to  society  as  a  whole.  If  we  contemplate  the  ethical  consti- 
tution of  the  mere  individual,  as  actualizing  itself  in  right  charac- 
ter, what  is  more  apparent?  Ideally  we  find  that  this  depends  on 
the  absolute  control  of  the  will  over  nature,  in  the  wa}-  of  virtue 
and  dut}-  under  the  inspiration  of  love.  But  where  is  the  individ- 
ual to  be  found  that  realizes  this  ideal  in  his  life  ?  It  is  still 
more  apparent  in  the  utter  inability  of  the  world  in  its  social  order 
to  actualize  a  complete  morality'.  If  there  is  anything  in  which  it 
has  failed,  it  is  to  be  found  in  its  abortive  efforts  to  establish  a 
right  social  economy.  From  the  inner  circle  of  the  famil}^  with  all 
its  hallowed  associations  out  into  the  widening  circles  of  the  State 
and  the  race,  how  far  has  the  woi'ld  come  short  of  realizing  its  own 
ideal!     We  have  beautiful  ideals,  from  Plato's  Republic  to  More's 


Chap.  L]  ethiCs  699 

Utoi)ia,  but  prnctieiiUy  onl}'  broken  wrecks,  strewed  all  along  the 
patlnvay  of  history.  In  this  nineteenth  century,  the  same  old  social 
problems  are  still  struggling  for  solution. 

The  difficulty  lies  not  so  much  in  the  sphere  of  the  intellect  as 
in  the  sphere  of  the  will,  just  in  that  sphere  in  which  the  science  of 
Ethics  has  its  domain.  As  a  consecpience,  after  man  has  portrayed 
intellectually  or  scientifically  his  own  high  ideal,  there  is  no  power 
of  will  to  reduce  it  to  outward  actualization.  The  higher  and  bet- 
ter, indeed,  this  ideal  becomes,  the  more  painful  is  the  sense  of  ina- 
bilit}'  to  realize  it — the  wider  the  chasm  becomes  that  is  to  l)e 
bridged  over.  This  in  one  A'iew  is  a  melancholy  thought.  But  in 
another  view  it  is  of  an  immense  advantage  and  a  profound  signif- 
icance, as  it  serves  to  bring  with  it  a  sense  of  want,  that  is  to  be 
satisfied  only  in  something  higher,  which  is  religion.  Man's  rela- 
tions to  God  must  be  rightly  established,  and  that  alone  can  bring 
with  it  the  right  establishment  and  actual  realization  of  all  ethical 
relations  in  the  constitution  of  humanity.  This  is  the  lesson  which 
philosophy  teaches. 

A  second  thought  growing  out  of  the  one  just  presented,  and 
closely  allied  to  it,  is  that  religion  for  man  must  be  redemptite  in 
its  character,  as  something  necessary  for  the  completion  of  his  life. 
Such  a  sense  of  want  carries  with  it  likewise  a  sense  of  (jiiilt.  This 
is  in  fact  the  testimony  of  al)  religions.  Else  why  their  sacrifices 
and  proph^dactic  rites?  Else  why  the  cleansing  in  the  Ganges,  the 
lives  sacrificed  in  its  waters  or  under  the  wheels  of  Juggernaut? 
All  religions  point  in  one  way  or  another  to  the  necessit}-  of  a  Re- 
deemer, to  complete  the  redemption  called  for.  The  unconscious 
prophecies  of  heathenism  no  less  than  the  inspired  prophecies  of 
Judaism  point  to  such  a  Redeemer.  Trench  in  his  Ilulsean  Lec- 
tures presents  these  unconscious  prophecies  of  heathenism  in  an  in- 
teresting light. 

Redemi)tion  carries  with  it  necessarily  also  the  idea  of  reijenera- 
tion^  for  redemption  includes  not  simply  an  external  deliverance 
from  a  sense  of  guilt  and  the  power  of  evil,  but  likewise  the  elevation 
and  perfection  of  our  human  life.  Thus  we  are  compelled  at  every 
point  to  look  for  a  religion,  which  claims  and  possesses  the  al)ility 
to  bring  help  in  this  way  to  the  world's  helpless  condition.  And 
this  ability  we  find  only  in  Christ,  the  God-man,  and  in  the  religion 
whicli  ITc  introduced  into  history. 

Religion,  however,  in  order  to  elevate  man's  nature  to  its  proi)er 
degree  of  completion,  must  be  social.  Just  as  we  do  not  get  social 
completion  ethicallv  by  combining  externally  the  morality  of  in- 


VOO  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV,  XI 

dividuals,  but  must  have  two  factors,  society  and  the  individual,  so 
Christianity  must  present  itself  as  something  general  as  well  as 
particular.  As  such  it  presents  itself  in  the  idea  of  the  Christian 
Church.  Human  life  must  be  redeemed  generically  as  well  as  in- 
dividually. The  regenerated  life  of  the  individual,  therefore,  can 
become  complete  only  as  he  stands  in  organic  union  with  the  king- 
dom of  divine  grace,  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  as  the  Lord  calls  it, 
in  which  life  flows  from  its  ever-living  head  to  all  the  members. 

Moral  science  postulates  the  necessity  of  religion,  as  we  have 
seen,  and  Christianity-  supplies  the  want.  But  how  are  the  want 
and  the  supply  brought  together? — We  may  conceive  of  religion  as 
a  spiritual  power  coming  into  the  domain  of  our  ethical  life  in  order 
to  bring  it  to  completion.  It  elevates  the  famil}-,  and  thus  aids  it 
to  actualize  its  own  ideal, and  it  does  the  same  for  the  State  as  well 
as  for  art,  science,  and  humanity  in  all  its  natural  relations.  As  the 
world  below  man  would  be  an  abortion  without  man,  so  man  needs 
the  incoming  of  the  Supernatural  in  order  to  complete  the  idea  of 
his  mundane  life. — According  to  Hegel  and  Schleiermacher  this  is 
the  whole  of  its  office.  The  notion  that  religion  is  a  spiritual  power 
intended  simplj-  to  aid  in  man's  social  completion  has  entered  largely 
into  modern  thought,  but  this  is  essentiall}^  humanitarianism^  and 
in  the  end  must  tend  to  undermine  the  true  idea  of  Christianity. — 
Whilst  religion  does  complete  the  family  and  the  State, the  arts  and 
the  sciences,  with  the  leaven  of  a  new  life,  jet  this  is  not  its  chief 
end.  That  is  to  be  reached,  not  in  the  earthl}^  but  in  the  heavenly- 
state.  What  that  is,  it  is  the  office  of  divine  revelation  to  teach  us, 
and  to  this  botli  reason  and  our  religious  instincts  alike  testify. 
We  might  rather  reverse  the  order  and  say  that  the  end  of  the 
State  and  of  our  whole  social  life  finds  its  ultimatum  in  the  Church. 
Or,  perhaps,  we  might  better  say,  that  the  object  of  Christianity  is 
to  take  up  into  itself  our  earthly  life  and  bring  it  to  its  completion 
in  the  Kingdom  of  God  in  the  supernatural,  spiritual  world.  This 
means  that  religion  or  Christianity  is  not  a  means  to  an  end  be- 
yond itself,  but  the  end  itself. 

Religion  thus  is  not  an  interest  that  stands  apart  from  or  above 
the  ethical  relations  of  men.  Such  isolation  indeed  would  lead  to 
serious  error;  but  whilst  it  infuses  a  new  life  into  all  of  man's 
earthly  relations,  and,  therefoi'e,  nothing  truh^  human  is  foreign  to 
it,  yet  its  own  chief  end  is  to  elevate  man  and  the  world  to  their 
true  and  final  destination  in  the  eternal  world.  This  view,  however, 
carries  us  beyond  science  to  revelation,  to  which  Ethics  and  all 
other  sciences  are  simply  handmaidens. 


CHAPTER  LI 

IN  the  3ear  IStO,  when  Dr.  Nevin  wrote  and  reviewed  his  "  Own 
Life  "  in  the  light  which  he  then  possessed,  he  was  at  the  zenith 
of  his  intellectnal  and  spiritnal  powers.  He  was  President  of  a 
college,  was  stndjnng  and  teaching  the  various  branches  of  philos- 
oph}-.  with  a  steady  eye  upon  their  bearings  on  the  Christian  relig- 
ion and  theolog}',  and  with  a  prayerful  outlook  also  upon  the  signs 
of  the  times.  He  w^as,  therefore,  in  a  mature  state  of  mind  to  give 
an  intelligent  view  of  the  progress  that  he  had  made  in  divine 
knowledge, and  to  define  the  theological  position  in  which  he  wished 
to  stand  at  that  time  in  the  estimation  of  the  public.  B3'  some  his 
life  had  come  to  be  regarded  as  made  up  largely  of  contradictions, 
in  which  one  part  was  inconsistent  with  the  other,  without  an^-  pos- 
sibility of  their  reconciliation. 

But  he  himself  was  not  aware  of  any  real  want  of  harmon3-  in 
his  mind  as  it  had  unfolded  itself.  He  held  that  there  was  a  common 
life  underlying  all  that  seemed  to  be  changeful  in  his  histor3-,a  pro- 
cess of  growth  or  development  out  of  that  old  Reformed  life  in 
which  he  had  been  born,  involving  a  struggle  with  another  form  of 
religion  that  was  constantl3'  obtruding  itself  upon  his  experience; 
and  that,  in  the  end,  there  was  a  complete  victor3^  of  the  former 
over  the  latter.     So  he  explicitl3'  sa3s,  and  so  he  himself  believed. 

All  true  developments,  which  are  not  mere  changes  or  external 
progress,  at  one  time  or  another,  manifest  such  apparent  contradic- 
tions. The3'  are  governed  by  laws  of  their  own,  vital  and  free, 
which  are  not  alwa3's  easily  detected  b3''  the  best  judges  at  the 
time.  Take  for  instance  the  case  of  David,  the  son  of  Jesse,  once 
the  chief  of  a  band  of  idle,  desperate  characters  out  in  the  moun- 
tain retreats  or  hiding  places  of  Judea,and  then  compare  him  with 
David  on  his  throne,  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel,  the  man  after  God's 
heart,  leading  the  hosts  of  Israel.  Here  there  was  growth,  and 
in  realit3'  a  consistent  development  from  the  sL^yer  of  Goliath  to 
the  aged,  mature  prophet  and  saint. 

So  too,  consider  the  earl3-  histor3'  of  Puritanism  in  England  and 
of  Methodism  in  this  countr3'.     A  severe,  abstract  logical  church- . 
man,   standing   b3'  their  cradle  whilst    still   infants,  would   have 
strai\gled   both  of  them,  if  he  could  have  done  so,  as  not  fit  to 
live;    but  looking  at  them  now  as  they  have  put  on  their  beauti- 

(701) 


702  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DlV.  XI 

fill  garments  and  unfolded  the  real  life  that  was  in  them,  the  same 
churchman  would  be  quite  thankful  that  he  did  not  get  a  chance  to 
commit  such  infanticides. — It  was  under  this  progressional  view  of 
the  case  that  Dr.  Nevin  regarded  his  life  from  the  start,  and  as  such 
we  here  give  it  in  part  at  the  stadium  which  it  reached  in  his  sixt}^- 
seventh  j^ear.  It  is  largely  theological,  but  in  realit}^  intensely  I'e- 
ligious,  because  with  him  theolog^^  and  philosophy  were  altogether 
secondar}^,  valuable  onl}'  as  they  served  to  promote  the  true  life  of 
God  in  the  soul. 

He  starts  out  in  his  Self-criticism  with  the  question,  whether  he 
had  made  an}-  theological  progress  over  against  previous  imperfec- 
tion that  had  characterized  his  earlier  life,  and  then  proceeds  to 
show  in  what  direction  he  had  moved  forward  and  upwards.  "  It 
was  a  matter  of  course,"  he  says,  "that  any  movement  with  me 
should  start  from  within  the  sphere  of  exegetical  and  biblical  stud3\ 
That  was  the  department  to  which  I  had  been  providentially  de- 
termined at  Princeton ;  and  that  was  the  department  to  w^hich  I  had 
also  been  called  at  Allegheny.  It  fell  in  with  my  taste;  m3'  attain- 
ments in  it  were  already  resj^ectable ;  and  altogether  I  felt  mj'self 
more  at  home  here  than  in  anj'  other  sphere  of  theological  learning. 

"As  this  had  to  do  directlj'  with  the  Bible, the  acknowledged  foun- 
tain, the  only  sure  repository  of  all  revealed  truth,  m^^  best  religious 
feelings  were  also  strongly-  enlisted  in  its  favor.  What  could  be 
more  directly  or  fully  in  the  line  of  true  Christian  science  or  work 
than  the  study  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  the  interpretation  of  the 
Divine  oracles,  which  are  able  to  make  men  wise  unto  everlasting 
life,  and  by  which  only  the  Church  can  be  effectually  guarded  from 
error  and  fitted  to  fulfil  her  mission  in  the  world  ?  Whatever  of 
question  there  maj'  be  with  regard  to  other  studies,  it  seemed  to 
me  at  once  very  plain  that  there  could  be  none  with  regard  to  the 
prime  necessity  and  importance  of  biblical  studies  properly  so 
called,  without  which  it  must  be  in  vain  to  think  of  reaching  the 
knowledge  of  religion  in  an}-  other  form. 

"  Looking  at  the  matter  in  this  way,  I  was  disposed  to  make  the 
most  of  my  department,  and  even  to  magnify  it  somewhat  at  the 
expense  of  other  provinces  of  theological  learning,  as  feeling  them 
to  be  without  it  of  only  secondary  account.  I  took  but  small  in- 
terest in  historical  theolog}-;  and  but  little  more  in  dogmatic  the- 
ology, as  handled  in  the  service  of  confessions  and  schools.  What 
could  such  outward  systematization  of  doctrines  amount  to  in  com- 
parison with  the  inspii'ed  teachings  of  God  Himself?  In  the  end 
there  could  be  but  one  sort  of  theolog}^  worth}-  of  the  name ;  and 


Chap.  LI]  self-criticism  T03 

that,  in  the  iiaturc  of  the  case,  must  be  biblical  theoloi;}','  or  the- 
ology based  upon  the  l>ible,  and  diawn  forth  from  it  b}'  fair  and 
full  interpretation,  without  regard  to  any  other  authorit}'. 

"My  first  acquaintances  with  German  literature  fell  in  with  this 
turn  of  thought,  and  served  to  give  it  encouragement  and  support; 
since  it  lay  almost  entirely  in  the  sphere  of  such  studies  as  had  to 
do,  directly  or  indirecth',  with  the  interpretation  of  the  Scriptures, 
^fy  introduction  to  German  learning  in  this  form  indeed  liegan  at 
Princeton  1)3-  means  of  English  translations  jjartly,  and  still  more 
largely  through  works  written  in  Latin.  The  influence  of  Professor 
Moses  Stuart,  the  pioneer  of  this  kind  of  learning  in  the  United 
States,  made  itself  felt  upon  me  here  with  great  Aveight.  He  was 
in  his  day  the  founder  of  a  school,  which  for  a  time  guided  and 
controlled  in  its  own  wa}-  the  general  thinking  of  the  countr}-.  M}" 
position  in  the  Western  Seminary  led  me  to  follow  out  my  studies 
in  the  same  direction  as  before;  and  that  I  might  be  able  to  do  so 
with  greater  advantage,  I  now  made  it  an  object — which  I  had  not 
done  before — to  acquire  some  knowledge  of  the  German  language. 
This  widened  my  range  of  reading,  while  it  continued  to  be  never- 
theless of  the  same  reigning  character.  My  business  was^  oriental 
and  biblical  literature,  and  I  took  an  interest  mainly  in  what  fell 
within  the  scoi)e  of  that  department. 

"The  German  literature,  however,  with  wdiich  I  was  thus  brought 
into  close  contact  and  connection,  Avas  not  by  any  means  of  a  safe 
or  altogether  wholesome  order.  It  was  indeed  itself  professedly  of 
two  sorts, one  openl}'  rationalistic  in  the  old  so-called  A'ulgar  st^le; 
and  the  other  relatively  orthodox — that  is,  more  or  less  faithful  in 
asserting  the  supernatural  character  of  Christianit}'  over  against 
the  bald  inlidelit}'  of  the  opposite  side.  And  so  it  was  an  eas}' 
thing,  of  course,  in  these  circumstances,  for  our  traditional  Amer- 
ican orthodox3-  at  Andover,  Princeton,  or  elsewhere,  without  going 
at  all  into  the  depths  of  the  matter,  to  fall  in  heartily  with  what 
was  considered  the  better  German  tendency  here  against  the  worse; 
and  in  doing  so,  it  seemed  safe  among  its  adherents,  likewise,  to 
make  free  use  also  of  the  critical  and  philological  learning  of  the 
professed  rationalists  themselves,  as  fair  Egyptian  plunder  for  the 
use  and  service  of  God's  sanctuary.  •  But  it  has  come  since  to  be 
well  understood,  that  the  two  parties,  thus  apparently  opposed  to 
each  other  at  this  time,  were  divided  after  all,  so  far  as  theological 
principle  was  concerned,  more  altogether  in  form  than  in  fiict. 

"The  rationalistic  element,  which  I'uled  the  universal  thinking  of 
the  last  century,  entered  still  as  a  conditioning  factor  into  both 


704  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

sides  of  the  divisian,  which  as  such  assumed  a  very  unsteady,  fluc- 
tuating character  in  all  directions.  The  difference  consisted  in 
that  which  exists  between  gross  rationalism  rather  than  that  be- 
tween proper  infidelity  and  a  full  faith.  Pure  rationalism  in  the 
abstract  reigned  in  one  direction,  while  in  the  other,  what  has  been 
denominated  pure  abstract  supernaturalism :  or  in  other  words,  the 
thought  of  the  Divine, held  apart  from  all  real  union  with  the  world's 
actual  life.  Substantially  it  was  the  old  antithesis  of  the  Gnostic 
and  Ebionitic  forms  of  thought — polar  opposites  of  the  same  false 
dualism  which  rises  into  view  through  all  the  ages  of  the  Church 
as  the  great  fundamental  heres}^,  against  which  we  are  so  solemnly 
called  to  stand  by  the  Apostle,  when  he  says :  Every  spirit  that  con- 
fesseth  that  Jesus  Christ  is  come  in  the  flesh  is  of  God:  and  every 
spirit  that  confesseth  not  that  Jesus  Christ  is  come  in  the  flesh  is  not 
of  God.  And  this  is  the  spirit  of  Antichrist, whereof  ye  have  heard 
that  it  should  come ;  and  even  now  is  it  in  the  world.  1  John  4 :  1-3. 

"It  is  not  to  be  disguised,"  Dr.  Nevin  goes  on  to  affirm,  "that 
on  the  first  introduction  of  German  theological  learning  into  this 
country,  it  gained  credit  and  made  itself  felt  chiefly  under  the  char- 
acter here  described.  It  did  all  this,  I  may  add,  without  doing  any 
violence  to  the  previous  order  of  religious  thought.  For  this  also 
in  its  own  way — pietistic  subjectivity — was  already  largely  at  fault 
in  the  same  wrong  direction.  In  the  end  the  case,  therefore,  easily 
came  to  a  friendly  correspondence,  and  to  a  more  or  less  full  coali- 
tion between  our  Puritanic  evangelical  orthodoxy  and  the  imported 
rationalistic  supernaturalism  of  Germany,  as  it  has  been  styled,  the 
fruits  of  which  are  widely  evident  all  over  the  country.  For  the 
infection  has  not  kept  itself  to  any  one  portion  of  our  religions 
world,  but  has  entered,  more  or  less,  into  all  denominations,  show- 
ing themselves  here  to  be  of  one  mind  and  spirit. 

"  Andover,"  as  Dr.  Nevin  sa3^s,  "led  the  way  in  this  course  of  a 
one-sided  development.  The  earlier  translations  of  German  works, 
made  at  that  centre  of  thought,  in  the  service  of  biblical  literature, 
even  where  they  take  ground  against  rationalism  and  neology, 
breathe,  more  or  less,  of  the  rationalistic  spirit.  The  same  may 
be  said  even  of  Professor  Stuart's  Commentary  on  the  Epistle  to 
the  Hebrews,  which  made  a  sensation  in  its  day,  and  was  regarded 
as  a  bold  effort  by  himself  and  others  when  it  came  out.  As  he 
takes  special  pains  here  and  there  to  propitiate  the  spirit  of  the 
reigning  orthodox}-,  it  looks  very  much  as  if  he  was  not  quite 
calmly  sure  of  his  own  ground." 

Its  questionable  character  did  not  come  out  in  particular  free- 


Chap.  LI]  self-criticism  705 

doni  of  intLM-pretatioii  or  criticisms  merely,  but  manifested  itself 
rather  iu  the  general  animus  which  i)erva(le.s  it  throughout,  and  in 
the  exegetical  and  theological  theoiy,  which  underlies  its  exposi- 
tions from  the  beginning  to  the  end.  But  Andover  did  not  stand 
alone  in  these  orthodox  evangelical  attempts  to  get  the  better  of 
neologic  rationalism  on  its  own  territory;  neither  was  the  problem- 
atical strateg3'  confined  to  New  England.  It  appeared  at  Princeton 
also,  and  pretty  generally  in  existing  Theological  Seminaries. 
Methodists  and  Baptists  had  naturally  gone  into  it,  and  even  more 
freeh'  perhaps  than  Congregationalists  or  Presbyterians. 

"It  is  in  this  wa^',"  Dr.  Nevin  says,  "that  Knapp  answers  this 
question  in  opposition  to  rationalism  and  in  favor  of  supernatural- 
ism  ;  but  this  is  done  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  reason  after  all,  in 
its  own  natural  form,  the  only  medium  of  assurance  for  us,  in  the 
first  place,  that  the  Bible  is  of  divine  authority ;  and  then  in  the 
second  place,  the  only  instrnment  as  he  calls  it,  whereby  we  are  to 
arrive  at  the  knowledge  of  what  the  Bible  reveals.  This  is  simply 
the  so-named  '  rationalistic  supernaturalism,'  which  has  had  so  little 
power  in  Germany  to  stand  before  the  onward  march  of  rational- 
ism, for  the  reason  that  it  was  really-,  although  unconsciously,  one 
with  it  in  its  fundamental  principle,  i)roper  character  and  form.  It 
is  quite  evident  that  all  evidence  in  favor  of  the  truth  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, which  is  drawn  from  pei'sonal  experience  of  their  salutary 
power,  can  be  nothing  more  than  an  element  at  best  entering  into 
the  general  inquest,  b}^  which  reason  in  the  end  is  to  settle  the 
question  of  their  divine  infallibility.  It  comes  in  no  sense  what- 
ever to  that  Testimonium  Sjnrif/is  Sancfi,  the  '  witness  of  true  knowl- 
edge.' It  is  not  by  the  outward  that  we  see  the  inward  ;  onl}'  by 
the  inward  can  we  understand  the  outward.  That  requires  more 
than  the  Ernestian  grammatico-historical  interpretation  ;  more  than 
'flesh  and  blood'  can  reveal  or  teach  in  any  wa}-.  The  supernatural 
object,  which  in  its  ultimate  fulness  is  the  Word  Incarnate,  Christ 
Himself,  must  itself  shine  into  the  e3'e  of  our  spiritual  intelligence: 
else  all  will  be  dark. 

"The  movement  in  myself  of  which  I  now  speak  might  be  said 
to  have  tended,  through  a  whole  decade  of  3'ears  at  the  Allegheny 
Seminary,  towards  the  right  realization  of  this  great  Christological 
truth.  It  had  for  its  scope  throughout,  it  seems  to  me,  a  proper 
apprehension  of  the  material  objective  side  of  the  Christian  faith, 
regarded  as  the  principle  and  ground-power  of  all  true  evangelical 
religion.  This,  indeed,  I  take  to  be  the  key  of  my  whole  subse- 
quent spiritual  and  theological  history. 


706  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

"  So  much  having  been  explained  then,  the  way  is  now  open  to 
bring  into  view^  briefl^^  some  of  the  different  elements  and  tenden- 
cies, partly  theoretical  and  partly  practical,  which  by  their  flowing 
together  went  unitedlj-  to  form  in  me  one  stream,  whereby  I  was 
carried  more  and  more  in  this  auspicious  direction." 

It  will  not  be  necessary  to  quote  Dr.  Nevin's  language  to  show 
what  progi'ess  he  made  in  historical  and  dogmatical  theology,  as 
the  reader  has  learned  that  already  in  these  pages.  It  will  be  suffi- 
cient, therefore,  simply  to  give  his  statements  in  regard  to  his  growth 
in  exegetical  and  practical  theology,  which  are  here  given  in  full  in 
two  articles.  The  former  he  denominates  his  "  Hermeneutical 
Enlargement,"  and  the  latter  he  includes  under  the  title  of  "  Pia . 
Desideria."  They  exhibit  much  of  the  candor  and  Christian  sim- 
plicit}'  which  give  such  a  charm  to  the  Confessions  and  Retractions 
of  the  old  Church  Father,  St.  Augustine  : 

The  character  of  my  personal  religion,  as  it  has  now  been  de- 
scribed, wrought,  with  other  influences,  to  free  my  mind  from  the 
authority  Of  the  Ernestian  theory  of  biblical  interpretation,  and  to 
lead  me  into  a  deeper  and  better  view  of  the  H0I3"  Scriptures;  and 
this  also  deserves  to  be  noted  then,  in  the  second  place,  as  another 
favorable  auspice  and  influence,  brought  to  bear  on  the  course  of 
m}'  general  theological  life.  I  had  in  truth  never  been  altogether 
satisfied  with  Ernesti's  method  of  construing  the  sacred  writings,  as 
if  they  were  simply  human  wa-itings  concerned  with  common  human 
things.  I  had  been  accustomed  from  my  childhood  to  the  recog- 
nition of  something  more  in  them  than  what  lay  merely  in  the  out- 
w^ard  letter;  something  that  was  for  inward  spiritual  discernment, 
rather  than  for  common  logical  apprehension  only.  Mystical 
senses,  and  double  senses,  appeared  to  me  here  natural  enough  and 
all  in  good  place.  It  was  not  easy,  therefore,  to  acquiesce  in  a 
scheme,  wdiich  left  no  room  for  this,  but  insisted  on  reducing  the 
sense  of  scripture  everywiiere  to  the  one  bare  first  verbal  significa- 
tion of  the  text,  determined  on  philological  and  outwardl}-  his- 
torical grounds.  The  maxims  of  Ernesti  and  Professor  Stuart, 
on  this  subject,  were  held  b3^  me  all  along  to  be  of  somewhat  ques- 
tionable authority,  notwithstanding  their  plausible  show  of  com- 
mon sense.  For  a  time,  however,  the}'  were  accepted,  as  on  the 
Avhole  sound,  with  only  slight  hesitation  and  reserve.  But  grad- 
ually this  distrust  grew  into  decided  opposition.  I  found  it 
necessary  to  qualif}',  and  in  part  to  contradict,  the  teachings  of 
mj-  hermeneutical  text-book;  and  in  the  end  the  whole  system  of 


Chap.  LI]  iiermeneutical  enlargement  707 

mere  gr:iiiiinatico-liistoric:il  interpretation  lost  its  credit  with  me 
altogether. 

I  saw  that  the  system  in  fact  overthrows  itself,  l)v  not  canving 
out  its  own  i)iinci})le  to  its  proper  end.  All  human  language,  it 
tells  us,  must  be  interpreted  according  to  its  grammatical  or  literal 
sense;  and  what  that  is  in  any  case  is  a  purely  historical  question, 
a  question  of  outward  reality  and  fjict,  to  be  determined  bj-  purely 
historical  evidence.  All  turns  on  the  usus  loquendi.,  the  established 
sense  of  words  and  phrases  among  those  using  the  language  at  a 
given  time.  Settle  that  in  any  ease,  and  your  exegetical  work  is 
done;  you  have  the  proper  literal  meaning  of  the  text  in  hand, 
whatever  it  may  be,  and  have  no  right  to  admit  any  other  meaning. 
But  the  historical  sense  of  speech,  it  can  easil}'  be  shown,  is  some- 
thing much  more  than  the  general  current  meaning  of  the  words  of 
which  it  is  composed,  as  we  find  them  in  the  grammar  and  dic- 
tionary. It  draws  its  main  element  always  from  the  life  and  spirit 
which  enter  into  the  use  of  it  in  any  given  case;  and  this  is  some- 
thing which  no  mere  grammar  or  dictionary  can  ever  adequately 
represent.  So  much  is  allowed  liy  the  system  here  in  question  it- 
self, when  it  lays  down  the  rule  that  every  writer  is  to  be  inter- 
preted from  his  own  human  stand-point;  for  that  involves  all  the 
peculiarities  of  his  jjarticular  genius  and  culture,  as  well  as  the  cir- 
cumstances and  conditions  of  his  general  outward  life.  Moses  is 
not  to  be  interpreted  as  David;  nor  Isaiah  as  Jeremiah;  nor  St. 
Paul  as  either  St.  Peter  or  St.  John. 

But  while  the  system  allows  this  in  regard  to  the  simply  human 
stand-point  of  the  sacred  writers,  it  fails  to  recognize  the  necessity 
of  taking  into  account  in  the  same  way  their  divine  stand-point,  the 
peculiarity  of  their  position  as  the  subjects  of  a  heavenly  inspira- 
tion, occui)ied  and  possessed  with  the  full  sense  of  supernatural  and 
eternal  things.  And  3-et  if  their  inspiration  was  real,  and  not  im- 
aginary only,  it  is  plain  that  the  posture  of  mind  involved  in  it, 
the  views  and  feelings  belonging  to  it,  must  be  considered  a  part  of 
■the  historical  signification  of  what  they  spake  and  wrote,  full  as 
much,  to  say  the  least,  as  anything  appertaining  to  their  simply 
natural  existence.  In  this  view  then,  to  ignore  the  supernatural 
element  in  which  Isaiah  or  St.  Paul  stood  and  had  their  inward 
being,  must  be  I'egarded  as  a  more  serious  deviation  iVom  tlu'  law 
of  sound  grammatico-historical  exegesis  itself,  than  it  would  be  to 
forget  even  tiie  Jewish  nationality  of  either  of  them,  or  the  time  in 
which  he  lived,  or  his  particular  order  of  mind.  But  Just  here  the 
Ernestian  scheme  breaks  down,  and  ceases  to  be  consistent  with 


T08  AT    LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

itself.  It  admits  the  fact  of  a  supernatural  element  in  revelation ; 
and  j-et  will  have  it,  that  this  is  something  which  may  be  reached 
through  the  medium  of  human  thought  and  speech  taken  in  their 
merely  natural  form.  In  this  way  it  wrongs  its  own  principle,  and 
destroys  itself. 

The  fallacy  lies  in  the  old  perverse  mistake  b}-  which  revelation 
is  held  to  be  a  mere  announcement  of  theoretical  and  doctrinal 
truth,  made  to  the  ordinarj^  intelligence  of  the  world  in  a  super- 
natural way.  Any  such  announcement,  it  is  said,  must  be  through 
the  medium  of  human  thought  and  speech,  as  already-  at  hand  and 
available  for  the  purpose  in  the  common  natural  life  of  men,  outside 
of  the  new  truth  which  is  thus  made  known.  Else,  how  could  this 
be  said  to  be  revealed  at  all?  Only  what  is  communicated  to  men 
through  their  previously  existing  forms  of  thought  and  language, 
it  is  assumed,  can  be  for  them  a  revelation,  a  making  known  of  the 
otherwise  unknown. 

In  this  wa^'  a  distinction  is  made  between  the  human  and  the 
divine  as  jointly  concerned  in  the  mystery  of  revelation,  of  such 
sort  that  the  human  is  taken  to  be  entirel}'  on  the  outside  of  the 
divine,  and  is  viewed  as  a  vehicle  or  medium  simply  through  which 
the  knowledge  of  this  is  conveyed  into  our  minds.  The  text  of  the 
Bible  thus  is  everywhere  sundered  from  the  actual  substance  of 
what  it  reveals;  being  to  this  an  outward  index  only,  which  can  be 
so  far  well  enough  understood  without  the  help  of  that  toward 
which  it  points.  What  there  may  be  of  supernatural  mysterj"  in  the 
case  comes  afterwards,  and  it  is  not  in  any  way  in  the  text  itself; 
that  may  involve  difficulty ;  but  still  it  is  for  human  apprehension 
(else  it  would  be  no  revealing  or  disclosing  of  truth  for  men),  and 
human  science,  therefore,  may  surmount  the  difficulty  so  as  to  reach 
the  sense  of  the  text,  and  to  understand  at  least  what  it  declares  or 
affirms.  Then  only,  it  is  supposed,  do  we  touch  with  our  thinking 
the  supernatural;  and  this,  it  is  allowed,  may  indeed  be  for  us  an 
incomprehensible  mystery,  which  we  are  required  to  accept  with 
faith  on  the  authority  simply  of  what  has  been  already  otherwise 
accredited  to  our  reason  as  the  word  of  God,  telling  us  that  it  is 
true.  There  first,  the  more-than-human  of  what  is  brought  near 
to  us  in  the  Scriptures,  it  is  imagined,  properly  begins.  We  have 
it  in  the  doctrine  propounded  and  set  forth  in  the  inspired  text. 
This  is  that  which  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  and  which  it 
hath  not  entered  into  the  heart  of  mere  man  to  conceive;  that 
which  God  hath  revealed  to  us  by  His  Spirit,  first  in  the  letter 
of  the  Bible  outwardly,  and  which  only  His  Spirit  then  working 


Chap.  LI]  iiermeneutical  enlargement  709 

in  us  inwardly  can  cause  us  to  discern  in  its  true  spiritual  signifi- 
cation. 

And  so  it  is  that  we  liaA'e  in  truth  two  revelations;  one  in  the 
outward  God-spoken  text  of  the  Bible,  properly  authenticated  by 
outward  evidence  for  the  natural  man;  and  then  another  in  the 
hidden  interior  sense  of  this  outward  communication  made  accessi- 
ble to  the  spiritual  man  through  the  Spirit,  whereby  onlj-  we  can 
"know  the  things  that  are  freely  given  to  us  of  God."  Both  these 
modes  of  supernatural  instruction,  the  external  information  and  the 
inward  illumination,  must  go  together  in  all  true  theological  sense; 
"  the  literal  sense  of  Scripture  ascertained  by  grammatical  and  his- 
torical interpretation,  and  the  hidden  meaning  of  the  sacred  hiero- 
glyphics unlocked  b}-  a  believing  experience  of  the  things  signified.'' 
They  must  go  together,  as  factors  toward  a  common  result.  But 
still  they  are  in  no  sense  properly  one  in  the  other.  The}-  stand 
apart,  and  are  outside  of  one  another  altogether. 

All  this  corresponds  exactly  with  that  abstract  view  of  inspira- 
tion I  have  had  occasion  to  speak  of  before,  according  to  which 
there  is  no  union  really  in  the  process  between  its  divine  and  human 
sides,  but  all  resolves  itself  into  the  action  of  God's  Spirit  moving 
and  working  the  human  spirit  in  a  purely  mechanical  way.  That 
being  assumed,  there  can  be  no  real  union  anywhere  between  the 
human  form  of  such  a  revelation  and  its  divine  substance-matter. 
The  text  of  Scripture,  as  such,  can  be  onl}'  the  outward  vehicle  of 
the  inward  sense  of  Scripture,  each  extrinsical  in  full  to  the  other; 
just  what  is  practicallj-  taken  for  granted  in  fact  b}^  the  Ernestian 
hermeneutics  throughout. 

But  there  is  no  room  reall}-  to  conceive  of  anj-  such  designation 
as  this  between  the  outward  and  the  inward  in  God's  spoken  or 
written  revelation.  Plausible  as  an}-  notion  of  that  sort  ma}-  appear 
at  first  view,  it  becomes,  nevertheless,  a  transparent  fallacy,  just  as 
soon  as  we  come  to  consider  the  necessary  connection  there  is  uni- 
versally between  language  and  thought,  the  word  processional 
and  the  in-forming  word  from  which  this  proceeds.  Their  relation 
is  never  simply  external  and  mechanical.  They  are  joined  together, 
as  intimately  as  soul  and  body  are  so  joined  in  the  constitution  of 
one  and  the  same  human  person.  It  is  a  solecism,  therefore,  of  the 
most  monstrous  sort,  to  talk  of  the  interpretation  of  language  in 
any  case  apart  from  the  animating  spirit  to  which  it  owes  its  being. 
We  might  as  well  pretend  to  see  in  the  eye  of  a  dead  corpse  the  in- 
telligence of  a  living  man.  What  the  eye  is  for  the  soul  behind  it, 
language  is  for  its  own  proper  sense  and  meaning;  namely,  not  the 


^10  AT   LANCASTER    PROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

algebraic  sign  of  this  only,  but  the  very  form  in  which  it  is  en- 
shrined, and  through  which  it  looks  out  upon  us  with  its  own  living 
presence.  All  language  has  thus  its  own  distinctive  life,  through 
the  apprehension  of  which  only  then  can  it  ever  be  rightly  under- 
stood or  rightly  explained.  There  is  a  spiritual  element  in  this 
way  belonging  everywhere  to  the  outward  element  of  speech ;  which 
is  just  as  much  a  part  of  it  as  the  outward  words  themselves  of 
which  it  is  composed ;  and  without  it,  we  cannot  be  said  to  reach 
in  any  wa}'  whatever  what  it  actually  means.  Logical,  grammatical, 
or  historical  interpretation  carried  forward  without  regard  to  this, 
ceases  to  be  that  which  it  pretends  to  be;  and  is  no  better  than  if 
one  should  undertake  to  interpret  life  by  mere  anatomical  dissec- 
tion. So  we  feel  and  judge  instinctively  in  our  ordinar}^  human 
existence.  It  is  only  the  soul  of  words — the  soul  the}-  have  in  them 
objectively  before  they  reach  our  minds — which  is  regarded  as  the 
true  ke}'  to  their  meaning;  and  where  that  has  not  come  to  make 
itself  felt,  there  can  be  neither  power  nor  right,  it  is  well  under- 
stood, to  sit  in  judgment  on  this  meaning  in  any  way. 

One  of  the  simplest  and  most  obvious  exemplifications  of  this 
we  have  in  the  creations  of  poetry ;  which,  like  the  creations  of  art 
universall}^,  can  never  be  intelligible  except  to  what  is  called  a  true 
poetic  taste.  No  philological  or  historical  learning  can  reveal  the 
sense  of  Homer  or  Horace,  Shakespeare  or  Goethe,  without  this. 
Only  so  far  as  the  inspiration  of  the  poet  brings  his  readers  into 
felt  communication  with  the  higher  element  of  his  own  life,  by 
spiritual  unio7i^  and  they  also  become  poets  with  it  in  their  second- 
ary degree  and  measure — only  so  far,  and  no  farther  can  its  lan- 
guage be  said  to  have  entered  into  their  minds  in  its  true  historical 
sense.  Dr.  Channing  in  this  view  puts  the  question  pertinently,  in 
one  of  his  Essays:  How  could  Johnson  be  just  to  Milton?  and 
goes  on  to  show  how  utterly  incapable  the  great  lexicographer  was 
of  understanding  the  great  poet.  Whole  volumes  of  learned  criti- 
cisms have  been  written  and  published  on  Shakespeare's  Plays,  in 
which  the  blindness  of  what  we  may  denominate  aesthetic  rational- 
ism shows  itself  pitiably  in  the  same  way.  Only  the  spirit  of 
poetry,  the  same  mind  which  was  in  the  composing  poet  himself, 
can  be  safely  trusted  with  the  task  of  expounding  the  sense  of  his 
composition. 

And  why  now  must  not  the  same  law  hold  good,  analogicall}', 
with  the  far  higher  inspirations  of  thought  and  life  that  enter  into 
the  composition  of  the  Bible?  Or  just  because  these  are  full}-  super- 
natural inspirations,  the  direct  breathings  of  the  Holy  Ghost  into 


Chap.  LI]  iiermeneutical  enlargement  711 

the  liuinan  spirit,  shall  it  be  said  that,  therefore,  the  general  law  of 
human  speech  and  word  cannot  hold  in  regard  to  them,  making  it 
necessar}'  that  they  should  be  inwardly  one  in  any  way  with  the 
speech  that  gives  them  utterance?  This  is  the  theory  of  rational- 
istic supernaturalism,  applied  to  the  idea  of  inspiration.  The  divine 
soul  of  the  inspired  word  in  no  living  union  with  its  human  bod}', 
as  soul  and  body  meet  together  everywhere  else  in  the  constitution 
of  man's  speech !  Look  it  squarely  in  the  face,  and  the  imagination 
is  worse  than  preposterous;  it  is  absolutely  monstrous.  It  is  sheer 
Gnosticism.  It  turns  revelation  into  phantasmagoria  and  magic. 
Revelation,  it  is  rightly  said  by  tliis  school,  must  make  itself  known 
through  the  medium  of  ordinary  human  language,  amenable  as  such 
to  the  ordinary  rules  of  grammatical  and  logical  interpretation ; 
otherwise,  we  are  told,  it  would  be  no  revelation  or  making  known 
of  the  previously  unknown. 

This,  however,  is  so  taken  as  to  mean  onl}-  that  the  human  in  the 
case  must  come  in  as  an  outside  medium  simplj-  through  which 
access  may  be  had  to  the  divine  in  its  own  altogether  different 
order  of  existence.  But  who  may  not  see  that  this  would  be  itself 
no  bringing  of  the  divine  actually  into  the  human  sphere,  no  reve- 
lation, therefore,  in  any  true  sense  of  the  term.  Revelation  can  be 
human,  onl}-  as  it  shows  the  divine  as  such  in  the  form  of  a  real 
human  manifestation;  never,  certainly,  by  thrusting  the  divine 
awaj'  from  the  human,  and  plajing  off  this  last  upon  us  as  its  mere 
docetic  simulacrum.  As  in  every  other  case,  it  is  only  the  embodi- 
ment of  spirit  in  word  that  makes  this  to  be  real  speech  for  man, 
and  not  the  mockery  of  it  alone,  so  here  also  the  mind  of  God  must 
actually  lodge  itself  in  God's  word,  if  this  is  to  be  a  real  speaking  of 
God  to  men  in  their  own  tongue;  and  then  it  follows  at  once  that 
what  God  thus  speaks,  by  heavenly  inspiration,  cannot  possibl\'  be 
understood  and  explained  apart  from  the  supernatural  spiritual 
element,  which  is  in  this  way  part  of  its  very  being.  The  divine 
element  and  the  human  element  meet  together  in  the  constitution 
of  what  is  spoken,  and  they  must  be  apprehended,  therefore,  each 
in  the  other  to  make  it  intelligible. 

In  this  view,  it  is  that  tiiere  is  room  to  speak  of  such  living  super- 
natural (pialities  belonging  to  God's  word,  as  we  find  attributed  to 
it  in  the  Bible — qualities  that  are  represented  as  resident  in  it  iu- 
trinsicall}',  and  not  just  joined  with  it  through  our  thinking.  So 
in  the  Old  Testament  there  is  ascribed  to  it  a  creative,  vivific, 
illuminating  and  purifying  force.  As  the  rain  from  heaven,  water- 
ing the  earth,  causes  it  to  bud  and  bring  forth  seed,  so  God's  word, 


712  AT    LANCASTER    PROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

going  forth  out  of  His  mouth,  is  not  void  of  answerable  power  (we 
are  told,  Is.  Iv.  10,  11),  but  has  in  itself  efficacy  for  the  end  or 
purpose  whereunto  it  is  sent.  And  more  striking  still  are  the  terms 
applied  to  it  in  the  New  Testament.  In  the  parable  of  the  Sower, 
the  seed  is  the  word  of  God;  which  has  in  itself,  objectively,  its 
own  vegetative  potency  and  life,  independently  of  the  nature  of  the 
soil  on  which  it  is  sown.  St.  Peter,  accordingly,  makes  it  the  very 
principle  of  regeneration ;  declaring,  in  so  many  words,  that  Chris- 
tians are  "born  again,  not  of  corruptible  seed,  but  of  incorruptible, 
b}'  the  word  of  God,  which  liveth  and  abideth  forever."  What  St. 
Paul  says  to  the  Thessalonians  is  of  like  sense,  when  he  commends 
them  for  receiving  the  word  of  God  in  its  true  Divine  character, 
and  adds,  "which  effectually  ivorkefh  also  in  you  that  believe." 
We  need  not  stumble  then  at  what  is  said,  Heb.  iv.  12,  where  we 
are  told :  "  The  word  of  God  is  quick  and  powerful  and  sharper  than 
au}^  two-edged  sword,  piercing  even  to  the  dividing  asunder  of  soul 
and  spirit,  and  of  the  joints  and  marrow,  and  is  a  discerner  of  the 
thoughts  and  intents  of  the  heart."  It  is  this  in  human  form;  but 
onlj'  because  in  such  form,  it  is  more  than  any  simply  human  word, 
and  has  in  it  truly  a  Divine  quality  of  one  nature  with  the  source 
from  which  it  springs. 

That  is  the  matter  of  revelation,  the  proper  substance  of  it, 
through  the  apprehension  of  which  onl^^  the  human  form  of  it  can 
ever  be  apprehended  in  its  true  and  right  sense.  Such  apprehen- 
sion, it  is  at  once  clear,  cannot  be  by  mere  natural  sense  or  under- 
standing. But  there  is  in  man  an  original  capacity  for  perceiving 
the  Divine,  an  organ  for  the  apprehension  of  the  supernatural, 
when  it  is  brought  near  to  him  in  such  objective  form.  Awakened 
into  exercise,  this  power  is  what  we  call  faith.  Between  faith  and 
the  supernatural  element  of  God's  word  there  is  an  original,  neces- 
sary' correlation;  whereb}^  each  is  for  the  other,  just  as  light  and 
the  eye  that  sees  it  are  for  one  another  in  the  world  of  nature. 
Truth  is  for  the  objective  side  of  revelation — the  mind  of  the  Divine 
Spirit  in  it — exactly  what  the  power  of  the  Phantasy  is  for  the  ob- 
jective sense  of  true  poetry  or  an^^  other  creation  of  -art.  It  does 
not  produce  the  object;  does  not  put  it  into  the  word;  the  object 
is  there  waiting  for  it  (like  the  Beautiful  in  art)  as  what  is  not  to 
be  otherwise  known  or  seen;  and  the  word,  formally  considered,  is 
what  it  is  in  truth,  the  word  of  God,  and  not  of  man,  only  through 
the  proper  celestial  matter  of  it  making  itself  evident  in  this  way 
to  faith.  How  vain  then  to  dream  of  any  right  interpretation  of 
the  Scriptures  in  their  human  character,  without  the  power  of  this 


Chap.  LI]  iiermeneutical  enlargement  713 

higher  vision  penetrating  into  the  mystery  of  their  Divine  char- 
acter ! 

This  is  the  order  of  thinking  in  which  Lnther  so  much  ubonnds : 
the  Bible  the  principle  of  Protestantism ;  but  onl}-  the  sense  of  the 
H0I3'  Ghost  in  the  Bible;  and  that  again  only  as  demonstrated  to 
be  actually  there  l)y  the  responsive  apprehension  of  Faith.  These 
three  together,  the  Bible  in  the  element  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  and 
Faith  having  its  existence  and  exercise  in  the  same  element!  So 
only  could  there  be  an}'  sense  in  the  Protestant  principle.  The 
Bible,  thrown  open  to  private  judgment  in  any  other  way,  must 
become  the  sport  forever  of  infidel  rationalism  in  one  direction  and 
of  wild  fanaticism  in  another. 

The  object,  let  it  be  added,  which  faith  seeks  and  finds  in  all  rev- 
elation, and  without  which  it  cannot  be  faith  (as  there  can  be  no 
vision  without  something  seen),  is  throughout  in  substance  the 
same;  onl}-  in  different  measures  of  self-manifesting  reality  and 
glory;  a  progressive  shining  in  the  dark  mortal  place  where  we  are 
(2  Pet.  i.  19),  which  looks  on  continually  toward  the  dawning  of 
the  day  and  the  full  rising  of  the  Daystar,  Jesus  Christ,  in  our 
hearts.  Here  only  the  older  word  of  God,  '•  spoken  at  sundr}-  times 
and  in  divers  manners  b}^  the  prophets"  (Heb.  i.  1,  2), comes  to  the 
complete  sense  toward  which  it  had  been  reaching  from  the  begin- 
ning, in  the  Person  of  the  Word  hu-arnate ;  and  nothing  short  of 
this  is  the  goal,  which  foith  looks  to,  through  all  stages  of  revela- 
tion going  before,  and  where  onl\-  it  can  find  its  full  ultimate  satis- 
faction and  rest. 

How  far  exactly  this  Christological  way  of  looking  at  faith  in  its 
relation  to  the  Bible  had  come  to  prevail  with  me  before  I  left 
Pittsburgh,  I  do  not  now  pretend  to  sa}'.  I  onl}-  know  that  there 
was  in  ray  experience  there,  a  growing  tendenc}^  to  views  of  biblical 
interpretation  which  lay  in  that  direction.  Herder's  Spirit  of 
Hebrew  Poetry,  and  Lowth's  Lectures  on  the  same  subject,  were 
not  without  their  effect  here  on  m}-  mind,  as  showing  indirectly  and 
analogically  the  need  of  a  spiritual  understanding  to  comprehend 
the  utterances  of  God's  Spirit.  Even  the  cold-blooded  Michaelis, 
in  his  Preface  to  Lowth's  Lectures,  insists  on  the  necessity  of  a 
poetical  spirit  to  understand  the  inspiration  of  a  poet.  How  much 
more  then  must  it  not  recjuire  an  opened  sense  for  the  theanthropic, 
to  understand  the  oracles  of  the  Hoi}'  Ghost;  according  to  that 
word  to  the  Jews  by  Christ  Himself:  ''He  that  is  of  (lod  heareth 
God's  words;  ye  therefore  hear  them  not,  because  ye  are  not  of 
God."  Such  i)assages,  abounding  especially  in  St.  John,  took  deep 
45 


114  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

and  powerful  possession  of  my  mind.  Different  religious  studies  con- 
tributed also  to  bend  it  more  and  more  the  same  general  way.  In 
particular,  my  acquaintance  in  this  stage  of  my  life  with  Tholuck 
and  Olshausen  was  salutary  for  me  and  fruitful  in  no  common 
degree. 

I  have  applied  to  the  system  of  religious  thought  in  which  I 
stood  prevailingly,  in  the  period  of  ni}^  life  now  under  retrospect- 
ive judgment,  the  expressive  designation  "rationalistic  supernat- 
uralism."  The  term,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  is  not  one  of 
my  own  inventioii.  It  has  its  well  known  application  in  German^' 
to  a  certain  order  of  Christian  life  and  theology  there,  the  consti- 
tution and  historical  meaning  of  which  are  just  as  well  settled  and 
understood,  as  the  nature  of  orthodoxy  or  rationalism  under  any 
other  view.  Any  one  may  see  this,  who  will  look  into  Dorner's 
Histor}^  of  Protestant  Theology,  where  the  mode  of  thought  in 
question  is  clearl}'  accounted  for  and  defined.  The  only  difficulty 
in  the  case  is  to  recognize  the  presence  of  the  same  mode  of  thought 
as  something  which  is  largely  at  hand  also  in  our  English  and 
American  theology ;  but  here,  of  course,  in  practical  more  than  in 
properly  theoretical  form.  I  have  tried  to  show,  that  the  German 
school  which  undertook  to  do  battle  here  with  rationalism,  and 
suffered  defeat  in  doing  so,  fairly  represented,  in  all  material  re- 
spects, what  was  in  the  first  part  of  the  present  century  the  reign- 
ing character  of  evangelical  orthodoxy  in  this  country;  and  there 
is  no  doubt  but  that  the  case  remains  much  the  same  still.  Such  a 
charg.e  does  not  imply  any  imputation  of  religious  dishonesty  to 
the  mode  of  thought  against  which  it  is  preferred. 

The  rationalistic  supernaturalism  of  Germany,  in  the  latter  part 
of  the  last  century,  was  in  its  time  highly  respectable.  The  task 
it  took  upon  itself  in  behalf  of  the  Christian  faith  was  an  earnest 
exigency  of  the  age,  met  by  it  in  the  spirit  of  earnest  and  honest 
zeal.  The  task  seemed  to  be  nothing  less,  in  truth,  than  to  defend 
the  last  pass  against  a  power,  which  threatened  the  ruin  of  the  old 
faith  altogether ;  and  in  its  own  wa}',  the  defence  was  maintained 
with  a  sort  of  tragic  Spartan  braver}^,  which  the  world  is  still 
bound  to  applaud  and  respect. 

And  just  as  little  certainly  have  we  any  reason  to  call  in  ques- 
tion the  right  intention  and  aim  of  such  rationalistic  supernatural- 
ism here  in  our  own  countrj^,  where  it  has  come  as  j^et  so  little  into 
the  light  of  clear  thought.  There  has  been  among  us  all  along, 
and  there  is  with  us  now  also,  no  doubt,  a  large  amount  of  true 


Chap.  LI]  pta  desideria  715 

faith  in  Christianity,  held  in  bondage,  as  it  were,  of  this  system, 
without  knowing  it  and  without  meaning  at  all  to  be  under  its 
power.  To  call  such  supernaturalism  rationalistic  ought  not,  there- 
fore, to  be  taken  as  an  offence;  as  if  it  must  mean  that  the  s^'stem 
precludes  at  once  the  possibility  of  any  real  faith.  Of  course,  it  is 
not  conscious  or  open  rationalism  as  such  that  is  intended  in  the 
designation  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  supernaturalism,  or  substantially 
orthodox  belief, that  is  intended;  but  this  under  a  particular  view; 
namely,  as  being  so  circumstanced  that,  without  knowing  or  moan- 
ing an3-thing  of  the  sort,  it  is  found  to  have  in  itself  an  element 
Avhich  is  just  the  contradictoiy  of  itself,  and  which  as  such  can 
tend  only  to  its  own  destruction. 

As  there  was  much  essentially  sound  Trinitarian  faith  impli- 
cated in  Arian  or  Sabellian  modes  of  thought  before  the  Council 
of  Xice ;  and  as  there  was  much  essentiall}-  sound  faith  also  in  the 
article  of  free  grace,  implicated  in  the  antagonizing  theory  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church  before  the  da^'s  of  Luther  and  Calvin ;  so 
there  need  be  no  difficult}-  in  allowing  the  existence  of  a  true  belief 
in  the  supernatural,  similarlj-  implicated  in  views  of  revelation  that 
are  in  their  own  nature  rationalistic,  and  in  principle  opposed  to 
liiith.  There  is,  therefore,  no  good  reason  for  resenting  the  use  of  a 
term  in  such  case  as  descriptive  of  a  general  sj-stem  of  thought,  mere- 
I3'  because  it  may  set  forth  what  is  not  consciously  intended  by  the 
system.  The  question  is  not  what  is  consciously  intended  b}-  it, 
but  what  is  involved  in  it  unconsciousl}' — what  is  the  logical  se- 
quence of  its  premises.  So  we  speak  (not  necessarily  with  invid- 
ious, railing  sense)  of  a  Judaizing  Christianity'  or  a  Romanizing 
Protestantism  ;  and  so  we  may  speak  also  of  a  Gnostic  or  Ebionitic 
Evangelicalism,  or  of  a  Rationalistic  Supernaturalism;  not  just  for 
the  purpose  of  calling  hard  names,  but  because  such  qualifying 
terms  answer  reall}-  and  trul}-  to  the  character  of  what  we  have  in 
our  mind,  and  because  it  is  not  possible  to  describe  it  or  speak  of 
it  intelligibly  in  an}-  other  way. 

Thus  much  I  think  it  proper  to  say  here  on  this  point,  not  simply 
in  the  wa^'  of  general  apology  to  others,  but  in  order  also  that  I 
may  not  seem  to  do  wrong  to  myself,  in  what  I  speak  of  as  the  ra- 
tionalistic character  of  the  theological  system  in  Avhich  I  stood  at 
the  time  now  under  consideration.  This  does  not  mean,  in  the 
least,  that  there  Avas  an}-  want  or  weakness  of  belief  with  me  in  the 
Divine  origin  of  Christianit3-,or  that  I  had  an}'  sympathy  whatever 
with  the  aims  and  purjjoses  of  neological  skepticism  in  any  form. 
I  lield  the  vulgar  or  gross  rationalism  of  Germany  in  abhorrence 


716  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

and  contempt.  The  ordinary  objections  of  infidelity  to  the  fact  of 
revelation  have  never,  indeed,  given  me  any  very  serious  trouble. 
Not  because  I  could  not  see  the  force  of  them,  nor  because  I  have 
been  able  always  to  answer  them  satisfactorily;  but  because  I  have 
always  had  the  feeling  at  least,  if  not  the  clear  thought,  that  the 
evidence  of  Christianity  lay  somehow  in  the  constitution  of  Chris- 
tianity itself,  and  was  there  in  a  form  which  all  these  difficulties  for 
the  understanding  had  no  power  to  reach  or  touch. 

But  this  was  an  anchoring  of  my  faith  in  fact  in  the  substantive 
matter  of  revelation  itself,  and  not  in  the  form  simply  in  which 
this  came  before  me  in  the  Bible ;  and  the  ground  thus  into  which 
it  struck  all  along  (as  far  as  it  tvas  faith),  lay  far  below  the  plane 
of  all  I  was  occupied  with  in  m}"  simply  grammatico-historical 
studies ;  far  below  all  the  biblical  theologizings  of  the  Storr  and 
Flatt  order,  based  on  the  mere  outward  text  of  the  Bible,  as  though 
that  could  be  in  and  of  itself  the  matter-principle^  no  less  than  the 
form-principle,  of  heaven-descended  truth.  In  the  bosom  of  this 
general  order  of  thought,  as, already  shown,  I  had  what  I  may  call 
my  outward  theological  standing.  But  it  was  not  to  it  I  owed  the 
Christian  faith  wherein  I  stood,  however  this  might  seem  to  be  im- 
plicated in  what  was  thus  a  foreign  system.  In  its  own  nature  this 
system  was  rationalistic,  though  honestW  meaning  to  be  supra-nat- 
uralistic. The  true  Christian  faith  that  was  in  me,  therefore, 
wrought  not  from  it  nor  by  it,  but  was  a  power  looking  and  strug- 
gling always  towards  its  own  proper  end  in  another  direction  ;  and 
in  this  view  it  holds  in  truth  the  first  place  in  that  confluence  of 
forces  which  I  have  undertaken  here  to  speak  of,  as  having  served 
to  bring  me  forth  in  the  end  from  the  slough  of  a  false  spiritualism 
into  the  "more  excellent  wa}^ "  of  the  Gospel  in  its  right  Christo- 
logical  character  and  form. 

I  have  said  of  my  personal  religion  before,  that  it  was  of  a  sort 
to  fall  in  readily  with  the  crypto-rationalistic  mode  of  thinkiug 
which  prevailed  at  first,  without  my  being  aware  of  it,  in  my  bibli- 
cal studies.  The  relation  in  the  case  was  just  that  general  affinity 
between  pietism  and  rationalism,  which  we  find  illustrated  on  a 
broad  scale  by  the  history  of  the  Spenerian  movement  in  Germany, 
and  by  that  of  the  Wesle^-an  movement  in  England,  as  well  as  of 
the  Great  Awakening  in  this  country  during  the  last  century.  The 
mind  which  is  in  pietism  is  indeed  very  different  from  the  mind 
that  is  in  rationalism ;  but  there  is  in  both  the  same  element  of  a 
wrong  one-sided  subjectivity,  which  serves  to  place  them  both  in 
the  same  posture  with  regard  to  revelation,  and  makes  it  the  easiest 


ClIAP.  LI]  PI  A    DESIDERJA  Tit 

thing  in  the  world  for  tliat  which  begins  as  the  inward  life  in  the 
first  form  to  end  as  the  inward  life  in  the  second  form.  The  con- 
nection between  George  Fox  and  Elias  Hicks  iS"alwa3's  exceedingly 
close,  and  involves  in  it  no  mystery  whatever.  Semler  sprang  not 
nnnatnrally,l)ut  by  legitimate  derivation,  from  the  school  of  Halle. 
Now  ni}-  own  personal  piety,  as  already  shown,  was  strongly-  sub- 
jective from  the  beginning.  It  was  of  the  spiritualistic,  experi- 
mental order,  making,  much  of  inward  frames  and  states. 

I  do  not  speak  of  it  in  this  way  certainly*  to  disparage  it,  as  if  I 
considered  what  is  called  experimental  religion  to  be  of  little  or  no 
account.  Unquestionably  religion  must  be  a  matter  of  personal  ex- 
perience, and  should  engage  the  heart  profoundly  no  less  than  the 
understanding.  The  soul-exercises  of  such  godly  men  as  Spener  and 
A.  H.  Francke,  Bengel  and  Zinzendorf  in  Germany,  the  Wesle3's, 
Whitefield,  and  others  of  like  spirit  in  England  and  in  this  coun- 
try', belong  to  the  inmost  life  of  Christianit}^;  and  not  to  be  in 
some  sort  of  S3'mpath3"  with  them  must  ever  be  taken  as  the  mark 
of  a  more  or  less  irreligious  mind.  Pietism  in  such  form  has  al- 
ways commanded  my  regard,  and  will  continue  to  do  so  always,  I 
trust,  to  the  end.  But  with  all  this,  m^^  religion  in  this  form  had 
in  it,  what  I  ma}-  call  an  open  side  toward  rationalism,  and  had 
something  to  do,  therefore,  with  the  wrong  view  of  revelation, 
which,  as  already  explained,  made  itself  felt  in  m}-  theological 
studies  generally  at  the  time  now  in  question. 

Its  fault  lay  not  just  in  its  being  inward,  spiritual,  and  experi- 
mental ;  but  in  its  being  so  in  a  defective  and  one-sided  way.  Its 
experience  did  not  go  deep  enough  ;  its  subjectivity  reached  not 
far  enough;  its  spirituality  was  not  free  enough;  and  stood  not 
enough  in  the  objective  element  of  the  Divine  Spirit.  That  was 
the  difficulty.  What  I  wish  to  sa}^  now,  however,  is  that  mj-  per- 
sonal religion  was  only  in  part  implicated  in  the  defect  thus  de- 
scribed. Tliere  was  in  it  all  along  another  mode  of  experience  al- 
together (deeper  and  more  inward),  which  looked  quite  another 
way ;  and  of  this  it  is  that  I  now  speak  as  a  force  involved  in  the 
Christian  faith  itself  that  was  in  me,  which  refused  to  stop  in  the 
mere  form  of  revelation,  and  would  be  content  with  nothing  short 
of  the  actual  substance  of  it  as  its  own  homogeneal  object  and 
only  satisfying  rest. 

This  lay  to  a  certain  extent  in  m}'  corresjwndence  and  fellowship 
with  the  practical  divinity-  of  the  seventeenth  century  ;  which,  I 
have  alread}'  said,  never  seemed  to  me  to  lit  in  exactlj'  with  the 
Methodistical  evangelicalism  of  modern  times.    The  difference  was 


118  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

something  I  could  feel,  and  it  bad  the  effect  of  making  me  look  on 
this  last  always  with  some  amount  of  distrust.  My  views  of  evan- 
gelical piety  were  shaped  largely  by  such  writers  as  Baxter,  Flavel, 
Owen,  and  Howe ;  and  the  deep  Platonizing  thoughts  of  the  last 
especially  took  hold  upon  my  mind  with  great  force.  Still  more, 
I  ma}^  say,  was  my  soul  wrought  upon  by  the  profound  spirituality 
of  the  great  and  good  Archbishop  Leighton. 

In  all  this  st^ie  of  experimental  religion,  there  was  what  seemed 
to  me  something  much  deeper  than  an3'thing  I  met  with,  or  heard 
of,  in  the  reigning  theory  of  evangelical  personal  religion  belonging 
to  the  present  time.  In  its  own  yvay  it  unquestionably  made  far 
more  account,  than  this  does,  of  the  objective  powers  of  Chris- 
tianity, as  the  only  ground  and  guaranty  for  experience  in  anj^ 
right  form.  It  had  to  do  with  ideas,  at  least,  which  were  held  to 
be  of  objective  force,  and  not  merely  subjective  notions  and  fancies. 
Its  righteousness  of  faith  stood  very  distinctly  in  the  believing  ap- 
prehension of  a  real  grace  meeting  the  soul  from  beyond  its  own 
being,  and  not  in  an}'  inward  persuasion  or  feeling  simpl}'  of  the 
soul  itself.  It  made  much  in  particular  of  religion  regarded  as  a 
new  life,  and  as  being,  in  this  respect,  something  much  more  than 
doctrine  only,  or  any  passing  experience.  No  one  need  to  be  in- 
formed how  this  great  thought  is  blended  in  Howe  and  Leighton  ; 
as  it  forms  also  the  whole  theme  of  Henry  Scougal's  admirable 
little  volume  entitled  "  Life  of  God  in  the  Soul  of  Man,"  another 
writer  with  whom  I  have  alwa^'s  felt  myself  in  much  unison  of 
spirit. 

Shaw's  "  Immanuel ;  or,  True  Religion,  a  Living  Principle  in  the 
Minds  of  Men,"  turns  throughout  on  the  same  thought;  a  popular 
practical  exposition  (belonging  also  to  the  seventeenth  century)  of 
the  text  :  "Whosoever  drinketh  of  the  water  that  I  shall  give  him 
shall  never  thirst ;  but  the  water  that  I  shall  give  him  shall  be  in 
him  a  well  of  water,  si^ringing  up  into  everlasting  life."  A  foun- 
tain derived  from  Christ,  of  one  order  and  substance  with  His  own 
life,  but  as  such  a  perennial  principle  and  spring  also  of  life  in  the 
believer  himself!  "Religion,"  it  is  said,  "is  not  so  much  given  of 
God,  as  itself  is  something  of  God  in  the  soul ;  as  the  soul  is  not 
so  properly  said  to  give  life,  as  to  be  the  life  of  man.  As  the  con- 
junction of  the  soul  with  the  body  is  the  life  of  the  body,  so  verily 
the  life  of  the  soul  stands  in  its  conjunction  with  God  by  a  spirit- 
ual union  of  will  and  affections."  Again  :  "  God  doth  not  so  much 
communicate  Himself  to  the  soul  b}'  way  of  discovery  as  by  way 
of  impression  ;  and  indeed  not  so  much  by  impression  neither,  as 


Chap.  LI]  pia  desideria  Y19 

b}'  a  mystical  and  wonderful  way  of  implantation.  Religion  is  not 
so  much  something  from  God,  as  something  of  God  in  the  minds 
of  good  men  ;  for  so  the  Scripture  allows  us  to  speak.  It  is,  there- 
fore, called  His  image,  Col.  iii.  10,  and  good  men  are  said  to  'live 
according  to  God  in  the  spirit,'  1  Pet.  iv.  6  ;  but  as  if  that  were  not 
high  enough,  it  is  not  only  called  His  image,  but  even  a  participa- 
tion of  His  divine  nature,  2  Pet.  i.  4;  something  of  Christ  in  the 
soul ;  an  infant  Christ,  as  one  calls  it,  alluding  to  the  Apostle,  Gal. 
iv.  19,  where  the  saving  knowledge  of  Christ  is  called  Christ  Him- 
self— 'until  Christ  be  formed  in  you.'  True  religion  is,  as  it  were, 
God  dwelling  in  the  soul,  as  the  Apostles  St.  John  and  St.  Paul 
exjn'ess  it." 

This  manner  of  looking  at  religion,  by  which  it  is  regarded  as 
transcending  all  merely  intellectual  character,  and  also  all  merely 
ethical  character,  and  as  being  in  some  way  the  actual  "  life  of  God 
in  the  soul,"  runs  easil}-,  one  may  say  indeed  necessarily,  into  the 
form  of  w'hat  is  commonl}^  understood  to  be  mj-sticism.  We  find 
in  this  view  at  once  a  ver}-  obvious  difference  between  the  two  or- 
ders of  experimental  religion  of  which  I  am  now  speaking.  There 
is  a  mystical  element  everywhere  in  the  older  practical  divinity, 
which  we  do  not  meet  with  in  our  modern  evangelicism.  This  is 
characteristicall}-  intellective  and  self-comprehensive  in  its  spiritual 
exercises,  even  where  these  are  held  to  be  most  of  a  supernatural 
character.  Our  revival  experiences  are  in  this  way  far  more  mag- 
ical than  mystical. 

Now  here  again  ni}-  own  religion  fell  in  altogether  with  the  past 
more  than  with  the  present.  It  was  constitutionall}'^,  I  ma}"  say, 
of  a  m3-stical  tendenc}'  and  turn.  M^-sticism,  we  are  told,  is  of 
different  kinds;  it  may  be  prevailingly  intellectual,  or  prevailingly 
ethical ;  it  is  confined  to  no  one  order  of  religious  faith  ;  it  has  its 
home  largely-  in  the  old  Catholic  Church ;  and  it  has  entered  as  a 
powerful  factor  from  the  beginning  also  into  the  life  of  the  Prot- 
estant Church.  It  is  not  necessary  to  say  what  exactl}'  it  amounted 
to  in  m^'self  more  than  this,  that  there  was  in  me  a  sense  and  feel- 
ing of  much  in  Christianity,  which  was  not  to  be  reached  in  the 
way  of  common  thought;  but  needed  for  its  discernment  aiid  appre- 
hension a  deeper  and  more  vital  mode  of  knowledge. 

It  was  an  echo  all  the  time  to  St.  Paul's  word  :  "We  speak  the 
wisdom  of  God  in  a  mystery,  even  the  hidden  wisdom,  which  God 
ordained  before  the  world  unto  our  glory.  AVhat  man  knoweth  the 
things  of  a  man,  save  the  spirit  of  a  man  which  is  in  him?  Even  so 
the  things  of  God  knoweth  no  man,  but  the  Spirit  of  God.     Xow 


T20  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

we  have  received,  not  the  spirit  of  the  world,  but  the  spirit  which 
is  of  God  ;  that  we  might  know  the  things  that  are  freely  given  to 
us  of  God."  It  was  in  particular  a  pulse-response  to  the  ineffable, 
as  it  comes  before  us  everywhere  in  the  Gospel  of  St.  John  ;  a  full 
felt  sj-mpathy  with  the  mysterious  power  of  this  Gospel  as  de- 
scribed by  Claudius  :  "Twilight  and  night  lit  up  with  swift  gleams 
of  lightning!  a  soft  evening  cloud,  and  behind  it  the  round  full- 
orbed  moon  ! "  Above  all,  it  was  a  going  forth  of  the  soul  to  meet 
the  voice  of  the  heavenly  Bridegroom,  Jesus  Christ  Himself;  whose 
words,  according  to  His  own  declaration,  are  "spirit  and  life,"  and 
as  such  for  the  inward  far  more  than  for  the  outward  ear;  whose 
miracles  are  parables,  and  whose  parables  are  miracles;  and  whose 
whole  presence  in  the  world,  indeed,  is  for  faith  the  sacrament  of 
the  invisible  and  eternal,  in  a  way  transcending  all  natural  intelli- 
gence or  thought. 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  experience  in  this  form,  or  even  the  reach- 
ing after  experience  in  such  form,  was  something  which  could  never 
fraternize  easily  and  well  with  the  reigning  revival  system  of  the 
time,  which  had  come  to  be  considered  so  generally",  among  Pres- 
byterians now  as  well  as  Methodists,  the  great  power  of  good  for 
the  salvation  of  the  world.  Finne3asm,as  it  used  to  be  called,  was 
not  to  m}'  taste;  although  I  was  slow  and  cautious  in  my  judg- 
ments with  regard  to  its  exhibitions  ;  because  I  made  large  account 
in  fact  of  experimental  piety,  and  also  of  religious  awakenings  in 
what  I  conceived  to  be  their  proper  character.  It  was  not  the 
earnestness  of  this  system  that  I  disliked  ;  but  what  seemed  to  me 
to  be  too  generallj'  the  mechanical  and  superficial  character  of  its 
earnestness.  Its  professional  machinery,  its  stage-dramatic  way, 
its  business-like  way  of  doing  up  religion  in  whole  and  short  order, 
and  then  being  done  with  it — all  made  me  feel  that  it  was  at  best  a 
most  unreliable  mode  of  carrjing  forward  the  work  and  kingdom 
of  God. 

But  if  the  general  turn  of  my  religion,  in  the  view  now  described, 
stood  in  felt  dissonance  with  this  sort  of  Methodistical,  theatrical 
revivalism,  it  may  very  easily  be  understood  also,  how  it  refused 
no  less  to  be  satisfied  with  what  was  at  this  time,  as  we  have  seen, 
the  reigning  order  of  my  biblical  and  theological  studies.  It 
wrought  in  me  powerfully,  I  ma}-  say, as  a  perpetual  protest  against 
what  was  felt  to  be  in  them  an  unnatural  sundering,  in  some  way, 
between  the  form  of  Christian  truth  and  its  proper  supernatural 
substance.  M}^  favorite  devotional  manual  was  (as  it  has  been 
with  millions),  the  De  Imitatione   Christi  of  Thomas  a  Kempis. 


Chap.  LI]  pta  desideria  721 

But  I  need  not  say  liow  fully  this  goes  everywhere  for  the  interior 
Sense  of  Scripture  in  distinction  from  its  exterior  sense. 
Thus  he  expresses  himself: 

Speak,  Lord,  for  Thy  servant  heiireth! 

I  am  Thy  servant ; 
Give  me  understanding,  that  I  may  know  Th}-  testimonies. 

Incline  my  heart  to  the  Avords  of  Thy  mouth; 

Let  Thy  si)eech  How  into  me  as  dew. 
The  children  of  Israel  said  of  old  to  Moses : 

Speak  Thou  to  us,  and  we  Avill  hear; 
But  let  not  the  Lord  speak  to  us,  lest  perchance  we  die. 

Not  so,  0  Lord,  not  so  do  I  pray, 
But  rather  with  thy  Prophet  Samuel  humbly  and  earnestlv  beg: 

Speak,  Lord,  for  Thy  servant  heareth! 
Let  not  Moses  speak  to  me,  nor  any  of  the  Prophets ; 

But  speak  Thou,  0  Lord  God, 

Inspirer  and  illuminator  of  all  the  Prophets: 
Because  Thou  alone  without  them  canst  instruct  me  perfectl}-, 

But  they  without  Thee  will  profit  nothing. 
They  can  indeed  sound  forth  Avords, 

But  they  give  not  spirit. 

They  speak  well. 
But  if  thou  are  silent,  they  cannot  move  the  soul. 

They  communicate  letters, 

But  Thou  openest  the  sense. 

Speak,  Thou,  therefore,  O  Lord, 

For  Thy  servant  heareth; 

Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life. 

Dr.  Nevin  admired  such  thoughts,  and  we  gi^-e  them  as  expressed 
in  the  original  Latin  in  which  he  read  them : 

Loquere,  Domine,  quia  audit  servus  tuns  ! 

Servus  tuns  sum  ego; 
Da  mihi  intellectum,  ut  sciam  testimonia  tua. 
Inclina  cor  meum  in  verba  oris  tui ; 
Fluat  ut  ros  eloquium  tuum. 
Dicebant  olim  filii  Israel  ad  Moysen : 
Loquere  tu  nobis,  et  audiemus; 
Non  lotpiatur  nobis  Dominus, 

Ne  forte  moriamui'. 
Non  sic,  Domine,  non  sic  oro, 
Sed  magis  cum  Samuele  Pro})heta, 
Ilumiliter  ac  desideranter  obsecro: 
Loquere,  Domine,  quia  audit  servus  tuns! 
Non  loquatur  mihi  Moyses, 
Ant  aliipiis  ex  Projihetis; 
Sed  tu  potius  locpiere,  Domine  Dens, 
Inspirator  et  illuminator  omnium  Prophetarum: 
Quia  tu  solus  sine  eis  potes  me  [jcrfecte  imbuere, 


122  ^  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

Illi  autem  sine  te  nihil  proficient. 
Possnnt  quidem  verba,  sonare, 
Sed  Spiritum  non  couferunt. 

Pnlcberrime  dicunt, 
Sed  te  tacente  cor  non  accendunt. 
Litteras  tradunt,  sed  tu  sensum  aperis. 
Mjsteria  proferunt, 
Sed  tu  reseras  intellectum  signatorum. 
Loquere  igitur,  Domine,  quia  audit  servus  tuns; 
Verba  enim  vitte  aeternsB  babes. 

Thoughts  of  this  sort  often  shook  my  soul,  resounding  through 
it  as  the  voice  of  "deep  answering  unto  deep."  How  poor  seemed 
to  me  then  all  merely  outward  modes  of  mastering  the  sense  of  the 
Bible.  There  were  times  with  me,  wlien  looking  at  the  matter  in 
this  way,  that  I  would  have  felt  it  a  relief,  rather  than  otherwise, 
to  have  had  half  my  books  at  the  bottom  of  the  Alleghen}^  river. 

In  the  year  1873  there  was  a  special  meeting  of  the  Synod  of  the 
Reformed  Church  at  Lancaster,  in  the  month  of  rebruar}^  the  ob- 
ject of  which  was  to  reorganize  some  of  its  benevolent  operations. 
It  so  happened  that  it  convened  during  the  week  when  Dr.  Nevin 
had  reached  his  seventieth  birth-da}- .  Preparations  had  been  made 
bv  the  Faculties  and  Students  of  the  different  institutions  to  cele- 
brate the  event  in  some  appropriate  manner.  A  valuable  gold 
watch  had  been  purchased  for  this  purpose,  and  in  the  afternoon 
of  his  birth-day  the  members  of  the  Synod,  the  Faculties  and  Stu- 
dents went  out  to  Dr.  Nevin 's  house  in  a  body  to  congratulate  him 
and  witness  the  presentation  of  the  gift.  The  congratulatory  ad- 
dress was  delivered  by  Rev.  Dr.  E.  Y.  Gerhart,  the  Senior  Professor 
in  the  Seminary,  to  which  Dr.  Nevin  made  the  following  rejoinder: 

Sir:  You  will  please  accept  for  yourself,  and  in  behalf  of  those 
whom  you  here  represent,  mj'  most  sincere  thanks  for  this  expres- 
sion of  your  united  kindness,  and  good  will.  I  need  not  say  that 
it  has  taken  me  with  entire  surprise;  and  you  will  understand, 
therefore,  that  an^^  utterance  of  my  feelings  in  response  to  it  can 
be  only  in  an  informal  and  more  or  less  free  and  conversational  way. 

The  occasion  which  has  called  forth  }■  our  demonstration  could 
not  be  otherwise,  of  course,  than  one  of  very  solemn  interest  in  it- 
self to  my  own  mind.  All  birth-days  in  the  life  of  a  man  have  their 
solemnity;  but  a  special  significance  in  this  view  attaches  itself  to 
that,  which  marks  the  term  of  threescore  years  and  ten,  around 
which  such  an  interest  is  thrown  by  the  way  in  which  it  is  spoken 
of  in  the  Ninetieth  Psalm.     However  surprised  I  may  have  been 


Chap.  LI]  seventieth  birth-day  723 

b}-  your  present  manner  of  commemorating  it,  the  epoch  itself  has 
not  come  upon  me  unawares.  I  have  had  it  before  me,  not  only 
for  da^-s  but  for  years,  in  the  light  of  the  Psalmist's  words,  and  in 
view  of  its  ever  nearing  approach,  have  tried  at  least  so  to  number 
mv  da3'S,  as  to  apply  my  heart  unto  wisdom. 

You  congratulate  me  on  m}-  having  attained  to  so  high  an  age, 
in  the  possession  of  so  much  vigor  and  strength.  There  is  indeed 
something  wonderful  in  this  to  my  own  mind.  For  it  is  altogether 
dilTerent  from  all  that  I  looked  for  m3-self,  or  that  m}-  friends  gen- 
erally expected  in  my  behalf,  when  I  was  a  3'oung  man.  I  entered 
upon  the  stud}'  of  my  profession  questioning  seriously  if  I  should 
live  to  enter  it,  and  hardly  daring  to  dream  that  I  might  continue 
in  it  to  the  age  of  fifty.  When  I  had  gained  that  age,  too,  I  had 
the  general  feeling,  that  my  course  must  be  drawing  to  a  close;  and 
not  long  after  actually  withdrew  from  public  work,  much  broken 
in  mind  and  body,  into  a  retirement  that  I  considered  to  be  for  the 
rest  of  nn'  days.  And  yet  here  I  am,  at  the  age  now  of  seventy,  in 
full  service  again ;  and  you  are  here  also,  as  the  organ  of  our  three 
Institutions,  and  of  these  brethren  of  our  Synod,  to  tell  me  that  I 
have  not  yet  become  old  in  the  sense  of  either  bodily  or  spiritual 
decrepitude,  and  that  ray  bow  still  abides  in  strength.  In  this 
A'iew,  I  accept  thankfully  3'our  present  congratulations;  with  a 
gratitude,  however,  which  looks  through  the  occasion,  at  the  same 
time,  to  our  common  Heavenly  Father,  in  whom  alone  are  all  our 
springs,  and  by  whose  power  and  care  only  it  is,  that  we  are  up- 
held in  existence  for  a  single  day. 

But  mere  length  of  days  would  be  of  small  account,  if  that  were 
all  that  gave  significance  to  ni}-  past  life;  and  small  reason  there 
would  be  in  such  case  for  the  felicitations  you  bring  me  at  the 
present  time.  My  satisfaction  with  the  occasion  lies  far  more,  in 
vay  being  ])ermitted  to  look  back  on  ni}'  life  from  the  point  now 
reached,  through  the  collective  judgment  of  which  you  are  the 
honored  spokesman,  and  to  feel  that  (as  30U  have  taken  pains  to 
say),  it  has  not  been  spent  in  vain.  In  its  details  it  often  seemed 
trivial  enough  (as  in  the  ease  no  doubt  with  all  human  lives),  and 
like  others  I  have  often  been  forced  to  exclaim  mentally  (if  not  in 
word),  looking  at  myself,  "  Lord,  wherefore  has  thou  made  all  men 
in  vain ! "  But  from  the  tower  of  observation  I  occup^y  here  to-day, 
surrounded  with  this  cloud  of  living  witnesses,  and  taking  in  at 
one  view  the  whole  period  of  my  connection  with  the  German  Re- 
formed Church,  it  would  be  but  a  false  modesty-  on  ni}-  part,  and 
something  worse,  either  to  call  in  question  its  significance  or  to 
doubt  tiie  importance  of  ni}-  own  life  Avith  regard  to  it. 


724  AT   LANCASTER    FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

You  have  done  well,  sir,  to  limit  your  retrospect  to  the  time  of 
my  coming  to  Mercersbnrg.  I  had  lived  some  thirt3'-seven  3'ears 
before  that;  had  done  some  work;  had  formed  intimacies,  and 
passed  through  experiences,  on  which  I  still  look  with  fond  recol- 
lection. But  that  previous  time  has  become  for  me,  alas,  like  the 
raemor3'  of  a  dream  or  a  meditation  among  the  tombs;  and  for 
those  now  around  me,  it  is  much  of  course  as  if  it  had  never  existed 
at  all.  For  30U  and  others  here  m}'  public  life  and  work  date  from 
the  3'ear  1840,  when  I  accepted  the  call  of  the  Reformed  Church 
and  became  a  Professor  in  her  Theological  Seminary  at  Mercers- 
burg. 

That  was  indeed  an  epoch  in  my  history  of  more  than  ordinar}^ 
interest.  You  have  referred  to  it  under  the  view  of  its  significance 
for  the  Church;  but  it  was  in  truth  of  no  less  significance  for  my- 
self. If  I  have  under  God  rendered  such  service  as  you  say  to  the 
German  Reformed  Church,  in  her  regeneration  of  the  last  thirty 
years,  it  has  been  only  b^'  going  through  a  regeneration  in  myself, 
which  is  due  unquestionably  to  the  fact  of  my  having  come  into 
her  bosom.  Before  I  did  so,  I  had  known  but  little  of  what  she 
was  in  this  country,  and  still  less  of  her  older  true  historical  spirit 
and  genius.  When  I  came,  however,  it  was  with  the  purpose  to 
identify  myself  permanently  and  in  full  with  what  the  Church  was 
in  her  own  proper  constitution ;  and  the  result  was,  in  ways  I  need 
not  here  stop  to  explain,  a  providential  opening  before  me  of  new 
modes  of  thought,  that,  found  response  more  and  more  in  the 
Church  also,  so  that  there  has  been  with  us  a  common  movement 
throughout,  bringing  us  to  the  point  where  we  now  are.  In  all 
this  there  never  was  any  premeditation  or  plan.  If  ever  a  move- 
ment moved  itself,  and  wrought  out  the  particulars  of  its  own 
course,  our  so  called  Mercersburg  movement  may  be  said  to  have 
done  so  from  tlie  days  of  Dr.  Rauch  down  to  the  present  time. 

In  coming  into  the  German  Reformed  Church, I  came, not  without 
some  fear  and  trembling,  as  a  stranger  among  strangers.  But  I  was 
welcomed  from  all  sides,  and  soon  made  to  feel  myself  completely 
at  home.  Now,  however,  it  is  all  like  a  mournful  vision  of  the  past. 
Thirty-three  years  are  the  term  of  a  whole  human  generation;  and 
those  who  first  gave  me  the  hand  of  fellowship  in  my  then  new  com- 
munion, are,  alas,  nearly  all  gone.  The  middle-aged  ministers  and 
elders  of  that  day,  who  showed  themselves  so  true  in  our  earlier 
church  conflicts;  how  their  forms  rise  before  me  at  this  time!  Can 
it  be  possible,  that  I  have  outlived  all  these,  and  that  I  am  among 
3^ou  to-day,  as  one  of  the  few  remaining  representatives  of  what 


ClIAP.  LI]  SEVENTIETH    BIRTH-DAY  725 

the  Church  was  in  that  older  time?  It  is  even  so.  The  fathers, 
where  are  they?  Another  generation  has  come  in  to  take  their 
place.  Here  around  me  are  new  forms,  risen  up  to  man  our  insti- 
tutions and  to  sit  in  the  councils  of  our  Church.  They  bear  upon 
them  the  signature  of  mature  manhood,  tending  in  some  cases  to- 
ward old  age.  But  they  come  around  me  to-da^-  as,  for  the  most 
part,  m}'  pupils;  students  of  Mercersburg,  back  to  tlie  j^ear  1840, 
joining  hands  with  the  students  of  Lancaster  down  to  the  present 
time,  to  do  honor  to  me  as  their  common  preceptor,  on  this  m}- 
seventieth  birthday,  and  to  make  me  feel  how  much  that  means 
in  the  onward  progress  of  a  man's  life. 

You  have  spoken  of  the  trials  I  have  had  to  encounter  in  my 
work.  These  have  indeed  been  serious,  not  only  for  myself,  l)ut 
also  for  the  whole  cause  with  which  for  3'ears  I  have  been  identified. 
From  the  entire  unchurchl}'  w'ing  of  Protestantism,  now  in  one  de- 
nomination and  again  in  another,  we  have  been  subjected  to  a 
course  of  persistent  misrepresentation  and  persecution,  the  like  of 
which  is  not  to  be  met  with  in  the  historv  of  an3'  other  religious 
l)ody  in  this  country;  the  very  object  of  it  having  been,  in  part  at 
least,  to  excite  and  promote  faction  among  us,  for  the  purpose  of 
doing  God  service  through  our  ecclesiastical  dissolution.  It  has 
seemed  to  me  a  wonder  at  times,  that  in  our  weakness,  especially 
during  the  da}-  of  comparatively  small  things  at  Mercersburg,  we 
were  not  overwhelmed  in  fact  with  just  such  a  catastrophe;  the 
blame  of  which  then  would  have  been  most  assuredl}-  thrown  in 
main  part  upon  mj-self.  But  through  God's  great  mercy  this  has 
not  happened.  On  the  contrary,  our  trials  have  redounded  strange- 
ly to  our  advantage  and  success;  our  cause  somehow  seeming  al- 
wa^'S  to  gather  fresh  strength  from  the  attempts  that  were  made  to 
crush  it  to  the  earth.  There  is  no  reason,  therefore,  why  I  should 
not  at  this  time  look  back  with  satisfaction  on  these  tribulations 
of  my  life  (endured  for  the  sake  of  truth  and  righteousness),  as 
well  as  on  what  you  proclaim  to  have  been  its  triumphs;  since  it 
is  only  through  the  tribulations  in  fact,  that  the  triumplis  have 
come,  as  they  could  not  well  have  come,  indeed,  in  an}-  other  wa}'. 

I  rejoice  to  know,  in  the  retrospect  of  a  third  of  a  century,  that 
has  passed  since  I  came  into  the  German  Reformed  Church,  that 
the  Church  has  been  growing  all  the  time,  in  the  way  you  mention. 
Outside  hooting  and  inside  croaking  have  not  been  able  to  arrest 
our  progress.  Statistical  tables  show,  that  the  ratio  of  our  numer- 
ical increase  has  been  greater  this  last  ten  ^-ears,  than  that  of  any 
other  denomination.     But  of  more  account  than  this  has  been  our 


72^  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

moral  growth.  The  single  Claris  of  Mercersburg  can  do  more  an- 
nually for  Church  operations  now,  than  the  whole  Eastern  Synod 
could  do  in  1840.  There  has  been  witli  us  marked  progress  in  re- 
ligious knowledge  and  intelligent  piety.  Through  great  difficulties 
our  educational  institutions  have  been  steadily  gaining  ground ; 
and  we  have  good  prospect  now,  that  our  centi\al  institutions  in 
this  place  (on  which  the  whole  future  of  the  Church  so  largel}^  de- 
pends), Theological  Seminary,  College,  and  Academj^,  will,  in  a 
short  time,  be  on  a  foundation  to  secure  their  existence  for  all 
coming  time.  Our  alumni  are  felt  in  the  land.  They  are  favorably 
known  in  the  different  professions  and  in  political  life.  The  new 
generation,  on  whose  shoulders  the  sacred  trust  of  our  future  has 
now  devolved,  is  showing  itself  equal  to  its  task,  and  awake  to  its 
mission.  The  last  number  of  the  Mercersburg  Review  was  filled 
entirely  with  articles  from  our  younger  men.  Through  all  dis- 
couragements thus  the  Church  has  gone  forward  with  inward  as 
well  as  outward  growth,  and  is  this  day  a  power  and  promise  of 
good  in  the  country  far  be3^ond  what  it  has  ever  been  before. 

All  this  God  has  brought  to  pass  through  the  co-operation  of 
different  ministries  and  means ;  among  which  it  is  matter  of  rejoicing 
with  me  to-day,  that  I  have  been  permitted  to  bear  my  part. 

But  among  all  the  satisfactions  of  m}^  life,  there  is  none  which 
comes  more  closely  home  to  me  on  this  occasion,  than  that  which 
it  has  been  my  privilege  to  enjoy  in  the  affectionate  confidence  and 
trust  of  my  students.  This  has  fallen  to  my  lot  beyond  the  com- 
mon experience  of  teachers.  Since  the  day  I  came  to  Mercersburg 
down  to  the  present  time,  those  who  have  stood  neai'est  to  me  in 
this  intimate  relation,  and  in  that  way  have  known  me  best,  have 
been  my  warmest  and  best  friends.  Some  few  among  the  whole 
number,  it  is  true,  have  become  embittered  toward  me  in  subse- 
quent life,  through  unfortunate  party  interest  and  feeling ;  though 
even  these,  I  trust,  entertain  for  me  still  a  true  cordial  regard  in 
the  bottom  of  their  heart.  But  of  my  pupils  in  general,  it  may  be 
said,  that  their  regard  for  me  has  been  that  of  sons  towards  a  father. 
I  have  loved  them  and  the}'  have  loved  me.  Through  all  persecu- 
tions, their  faith  in  me  has  remained  firm.  They  have  been  around 
me  as  a  bulwark  and  wall  of  defence.  But  for  their  steadfast  con- 
stancy and  truth,  when  men  rose  up  against  me,  I  should  have 
fallen  ecclesiastically  long  ago  without  the  power  to  rise.  This  is 
my  glory  and  reward,  as  embodied  especiall}'  in  the  present  occa- 
sion. 

You,  sir,  head,  on  this  occasion,  the  long  catalogue  of  my  stu- 


Chap.  LI]  seventieth  birth-day  727 

dents,  as  you  have  been  all  along  also  my  honored  friend.  Around 
yon  are  our  colleagues  of  the  Seminary,  College,  and  Aeadem}', 
with  their  united  band  of  young  men  and  bo3's,  whose  souls  look 
forth  through  their  open  fiices,  the  deep  interest  the}"  take  in  what 
is  now  going  forward.  And  then  to  crown  all,  here  is  this  reverend 
synodical  attendance  made  up  mostly  of  older  students  back  to  the 
first  years  of  Mercersburg,  who  to-da}-  feel  themselves  young  again 
in  the  glad  fellowship  that  surrounds  them.  Xeed  I  sa}',  how  much 
this  whole  presence  means  in  such  view?  I  am,  indeed,  as  a  pa- 
triarch to-day  in  the  bosom  of  m}'  own  famil}'.  To  you  who  are 
here  present,  and  to  the  many  more  whom  absent,  you  represent,  I 
may  say  with  St.  Paul,  the  aged,  "  Ye  are  mj"  glory  and  jo}-;"  as  I 
commit  to  you  also,  for  the  time  to  come,  my  character  and  good 
name,  knowing  full  well,  that  you  will  care  for  them  after  I  am 
dead,  as  trul}',  as  if  the}"  were  your  own. 

The  very  handsome  present  5'ou  have  tendered  me  in  behalf  of 
the  students  and  professors  of  our  three  institutions,  I  accept 
with  thanks,  in  the  spirit  with  which  it  has  been  given.  I  vahie  it 
for  its  material  worth,  but  still  more  for  its  ideal  meaning  and 
sense,  which  is  something  far  greater.  It  will  be  my  pride  to  wear 
it  henceforward  as  an  abiding  monument  and  pledge  of  the  love, 
from  which  it  has  sprung. 

May  God  reward  and  bless  you  all  abundantly  for  your  great 
kindness ! 


CHAPTER  LII 

TN  the  3' ear  18.G7,  Dr.  Dorner,  the  celebrated  theological  professor 
--L  in  the  University  of  Berlin,  Germany,  wrote  an  interesting. and 
able  article  on  the  Liturgical  Controversj^  in  the  Reformed  Church 
in  the  United  States,  which  appeared  in  the  Jahrhucher  fi'ir 
deutsche  Theologie.  His  attention  was  directed  to  the  subject  b}- 
several  American  students  pursuing  their  studies  in  the  University 
at  the  time,  who,  having  just  come  from  the  midst  of  the  heated 
controversy  in  America,  presented  too  prominently  the  pessimistic 
or  dark  side  of  this  great  movement;  and  Dr.  Dorner  evidenth^ 
wrote  his  article  in  order  to  promote  peace  and  conciliation.  The 
German  professor,  however,  lived,  as  Dr.  Nevin  said,  at  too  remote 
a  distance  from  the  scene  of  conflict  in  America  to  get  a  clear  in- 
sight into  our  ecclesiastical  relations.  His  learned  article,  there- 
fore, instead  of  silencing  the  strife  only  made  matters  worse.  Cer- 
tain parts  of  it,  or  expressions,  were  gathered  up  and  used  as  artillery 
for  a  time  against  the  new  Liturgy,  its  theology,  and  more  particu- 
larly against  Dr.  Nevin  himself.  It  became  necessary,  therefore, 
for  him  to  stand  up  in  defence  of  himself  and  the  work  here  in  this 
country  with  which  he  had  become  vitally  identified.  His  Answer 
to  Professor  Dorner  for  evident  reasons  appeared  first  in  the  Re- 
formed Church  llessenger^  and  then  subsequently  in  the  October 
number  of  the  Mercersburg  Review,  for  1868,  where  it  occupied  one 
hundred  and  eleven  pages.  It  was  preceded  by  two  articles  which 
were  preliminary  to  the  final  Answer  in  the  Review;  one  on  Dor- 
nerh  History  of  Protestant  Theology,  Pp.  71 ;  and  one  on  Our  Rela- 
tions to  Germany  in  October,  1867,  the  latter  of  which  is  here 
given  without  abridgment. 

It  has  been  occasionally  charged  against  our  theology  heretofore, 
that  it  consisted  very  much  in  a  blind  following  of  German  modes 
of  thought.  Because  it  made  large  account  of  German  learning, 
and  of  the  results  of  German  speculation  in  the  different  depart- 
ments of  theological  science,  it  was  considered  proper  to  make  the 
fact  a  reason  for  viewing  its  peculiarities  with  suspicion  and  dis- 
trust. This  could  be  done  in  different  ways  to  suit  occasions. 
Sometimes  it  had  the  purpose  simplj^  of  disparaging  our  views,  as 
being  without  any  sort  of  original  force.     Again,  it  was  to  hold 

(728) 


Chap.  LI  I]  ouii  relations  to  Germany  729 

them  up  to  contempt,  as  unintelligible  and  obscure;  German  think- 
ing, at  best,  being  a  sort  of  dreamy  idealism,  and  our  version  of  it 
of  course  an  incompetent  rendering  into  English,  that  was  sure  to 
turn  it  into  something  worse.  What  came  in  such  form  was  of 
questionable  shape.  It  might  be  set  down  at  once  as  transcendental 
nonsense;  in  so  Air  forth  precisely  as  it  failed  to  fall  in  with  the 
stereotyped  notions  of  those  whose  perspicacity-,  thanks  to  their 
want  of  all  German  training,  liad  never  become  clouded  by  any 
similar  mysticism. 

Then  again,  however,  the  charge  of  Germanizinc)  was  pitched 
upon  a  new  kej'.  Could  any  gootl  thing,  in  the  way  of  Christianit}' 
and  theology',  come  out  of  German}-  ?  Was  it  not  the  land  of  ne- 
ology, rationalism,  and  pantheism?  Had  not  its  philosoph}-,  from 
Kant  to  Hegel,  been  in  the  service  throughout  of  skepticism  and 
unbelief;  and  was  it  not  notorious  that  its  old  religious  orthodoxy 
had  been  swept  away  comi)letely  by  the  influence  of  its  philo- 
sophical speculations?  To  be  in  an}-  communication  with  German 
thinking,  in  such  circumstances,  was  counted  enough  in  certain 
quarters  to  justify  the  apprehension  of  a  somewhat  latitudiuarian 
or  unsound  faith.  The  idea  seemed  to  be,  that  a  man  was  the  more 
to  be  relied  upon  as  a  competent  scholar  in  philosophical,  theolog- 
ical, and  moral  science,  the  /(»•  he  knew  of  the  great  writers  on 
these  sul)jects  in  modern  Germany.  Ranch's  Psychology,  for  ex- 
ample, might  have  been  better  without  the  knowledge  of  Hegel ; 
it  detracted  from  the  value  of  his  Lectures  on  Ethics,  that  he  had 
studied  Fichte  and  was  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  teaching  of 
Daub;  and  that  Mercersburg  theolog3%as  it  was  called, should  find 
anything  at  all  to  admire  or  approve  in  the  magnificent  Schleier- 
macher,  was  held  suflicient  to  bring  upon  it  the  reproach  of  all  his 
errors. 

Here,  moreover,  was  ground  for  looking  askant  on  its  professed 
regard  for  the  first  class  of  evangelical  German  theologians  gener- 
ally belonging  to  the  present  time.  For  who  among  them  had  not 
been  influenced,  more  or  less,  by  the  thinking  of  Schleiermacher? 
It  was  no  help  to  our  cause  then,  that  it  could  plead  in  its  favor  at 
certain  i)oints  the  authority  of  such  men  as  Xeander,  or  'Ullmann, 
or  Julius  Miiller,  or  Dorner,  or  Kothe,  or  Ebrard,  or  Martensen,  or 
Liebner,  or  Tholuck,  or  Lauge.  These  might  l)e  all  good  enough 
for  Germany ;  but  they  could  not  jjass  muster  here,  of  course, 
among  the  evangelical  sects  of  America;  and  any  school  or  ten- 
dency among  us,  therefore,  that  might  pretend  to  be  in  good  under- 
standing with  them  theologically,  could  but  deserve,  for  this  very 
4G 


730  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

reason,  to  be  looked  upon  with  some  measure  of  misgiving  and 
doubt. 

We  have  been  blamed  heretofore,  we  sa}-,  in  these  different  ways, 
for  being  too  much  ruled  by  the  authority  of  the  Germans  in  matters 
of  theolog}'^  and  religion ;  and  many  are  no  doubt  still  ready,  as 
much  as  ever,  to  renew  the  blame  on  what  they  may  feel  to  be  suit- 
able occasion.  It  is  somewhat  surprising,  however,  to  find  this 
charge  against  us  turned  of  late  into  precisely  the  opposite  form. 
On  the  strength  of  an  opinion  got  at  second  hand  from  Dr.  Dorner, 
in  regard  to  our  new  Liturgy,  occasion  is  taken  to  make  it  out  that 
our  views  are  not  endorsed  by  the  standard-bearers  of  modern  evan- 
gelical theology  in  German}^;  and  that  this  now  must  be  taken  as  a 
powerful  presumption  against  them  without  any  forther  considera- 
tion. If  it  was  our  heresy  before  to  l)e  too  much  German,  it  is  our 
no  less  serious  heterodoxy  now  to  be  too  little  German.  The  case 
of  difference  with  us,  on  the  part  of  Dorner,  is  indeed  ludicrousl}'- 
small.  It  reduces  itself  to  a  single  point,  set  over  against  three 
other  main  points,  in  which  he  agrees  with  us  in  full,  against  those 
who  wish  to  overwhelm  us  with  his  condemnation.  Dorner  is  in 
favor  of  a  true  people's  Liturgy;  Dorner  approves  of  our  seeking 
to  incorporate  the  spirit  of  the  primitive  Liturgies  with  the  theo- 
logical life  of  the  sixteenth  century ;  Dorner  declares  the  sacramental 
doctrine  of  our  Liturgies  to  be  the  true  doctrine  of  the  Reformed 
Church  as  it  was  taught  by  Calvin  in  the  age  of  the  Reformation. 
These  are  all  the  great  points,  on  which  the  Puritanic  anti-liturgical 
part}^  among  us,  and  on  the  outside  of  us,  has  been  at  issue  with  us, 
more  or  less  angrih',  all  along. 

But  then,  the  same  Dr.  Dorner  takes  exception,  it  is  said,  to  our 
view  of  ordination  and  the  Christian  Ministry,  pronounces  it  An- 
glican (not  German),  and  sees  involved  in  it  the  conception  of 
a  third  sacrament  not  in  proper  harmony  with  Protestantism; 
and  this  at  once  is  seized  upon  as  sufllcient  to  turn  his  otherwise 
favorable  judgment  into  a  wholesale  testimony  against  us,  with 
which,  it  is  complacently  assumed,  we  ought  to  feel  ourselves  al- 
together confounded  and  put  to  shame.  With  the  Christological 
theolog3"of  Dorner,  Ullman,  and  other  such  German  divines,  the 
Puritanic  anti-liturgical  party  among  us,  and  on  the  outside  of  us, 
have  in  the  nature  of  the  case  no  sympathy  whatever.  It  is  that 
order  of  thinking  precisel}^  which  the}'  are  ever  ready  to  exclaim 
against  as  unevangelical,  whenever  it  comes  in  their  way.  But  in 
the  case  before  us,  all  that  is  forgotten.  To  serve  an  occasion  now, 
these  German  authorities  (though  the}^  are  themselves  mostly  not 


Chap.  LII]  our  relations  to  Germany  731 

Reformed  at  all,  but  either  Luthenin  or  Unioiiistic),  are  made  to 
be  an  infallible  standard  for  the  German  Reformed  Church  here  in 
America,  which  we,  as  belonging  to  that  Church,  are  bound  to  re- 
spect, on  pain  of  being  held  heretical  for  any  deviation  from  it 
whatever.  The  authorities  in  question,  it  is  well  known,  are  not 
in  full  harmony  among  themselves,  and  agree  with  no  sect  or  con- 
fession in  this  country- ;  but  no  matter  for  that;  if  the^'  can  be  made 
to  tell  against  our  so-called  Mercer.sburg  theology  in  any  way,  it  is 
at  an}^  rate  so  much  clear  gain.  Does  not  this  theology  claim 
to  be  German,  as  professing  to  represent  the  German  Reformed 
Church?  But  here  we  have  the  Germans  themselves  objecting  to 
at  least  something  in  it,  as  not  according  to  their  mind.  Is  not 
that  enough  to  condemn  it? 

It  is  hard  enough  certainly,  that  we  should  have  charged  upon 
us  as  a  fault  in  this  case,  what  it  has  been  considered  our  fault  at 
other  times  to  be  wanting  in;  the  power,  namel}',  of  not  following 
blindl}-  in  the  wake  of  German  theological  speculation.  But  let  it 
pass.  We  are  used  to  such  unfair  polemics.  All  we  have  in  mind 
now  is  the  improvement  of  the  occasion  here  offered,  for  setting 
forth  in  general  terms  briefly  what  our  relations  to  Germany  have 
been  actually  all  along,  and  still  continue  to  be.  in  the  whole  sphere 
of  religion  and  theology. 

We  honor  German  learning  and  thought,  and  stand  largely  in- 
debted to  them  for  such  views  as  we  have  come  to  have  of  man 
and  the  world,  of  Christianit}'  and  the  Bible.  We  are  not  of  that 
class  who  pique  themselves  on  being  good  philosophers,  because 
they  have  never  read  a  line  of  Kant  and  have  not  the  remotest  con- 
ception of  what  was  dreamed  of  b}-  Fichte  and  Schelling ;  or  who 
consider  themselves  good  and  safe  theologians,  because  their  dog- 
matic slumbers  have  never  been  for  a  moment  disturbed  b}'  Schleier- 
macher  or  the  dangerous  school  of  Tiibingen.  We  confess  our  ob- 
ligations both  to  the  philosophers  and  the  theologians  of  Germany. 
They  have  done  much  to  deepen  our  religious  convictions,  and  to 
widen  the  range  of  our  religious  thought.  We  are  perfectly  sure 
that  the  central  stream  of  all  spiritual  science  in  the  modern  life  of 
the  world  is  in  that  countr}-;  and  that  it  is  worse  than  idle,  there- 
fore, to  dream  of  any  live,  progressive  thinking,  philosophical  or 
theologif'.il,  in  England,  America,  or  any  other  country-,  which  shall 
not  be  impregnated  largely  with  the  results  of  German  study  and 
speculation. 

With  all  this  high  opinion,  however,  of  the  German  mind  and 
learning,  we  belong  to  no  German  school,  and  have  never  pretended 


732  AT    LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

to  follow  strictly  any  German  system  or  scheme  of  thought. 
Neither  have  we  been  blind  at  all,  or  insensible,  to  the  dangers  of 
a  too  free  and  trustful  communication  with  these  foreign  forms  of 
thinlving.  There  has  been  no  disposition  with  us,  either  to  commit 
ourselves  passively  to  any  such  guidance,  or  to  set  up  an  independ- 
ent system  by  its  help.  We  have  all  along  disclaimed  ever^'thing  of 
this  sort.  Theory  and  speculation  have  been  with  us  subordinate 
alwaj'S  to  the  idea  of  positive  Christianit3',as  an  object  of  faith  ex- 
hibited to  us  in  the  Bible  and  the  history  of  the  actual  Church. 

The  Christological  principle  has  been  for  us  immeasurably  more 
than  the  requirements  of  any  school  of  philosophy';  its  practical 
consequences  have  weighed  more  with  us  than  the  logical  necessi- 
ties of  any  metaphysical  system.  We  have  been  able  to  see  and 
own  thankfully  the  service  which  has  been  rendered  to  the  cause  of 
Christianity^  through  the  intonation  of  this  great  principle  by 
Schleiermacher,  and  other  master-minds  who  have  here  followed 
him  with  far  more  orthodoxy  than  he  ever  had  himself,  without 
feeling  ourselves  bound  in  the  least  to  accept  in  full  all  that  any 
such  master  mind  may  have  been  led  to  deduce  from  the  principle  as 
belonging  to  the  right  construction  of  Christian  doctrine.  Our  the- 
ology in  this  view  has  not  been  built  upon  Schleiermacher  or  Ull- 
mann,or  Dorner,  however  much  of  obligation  it  cheerfully  owns  to 
each  of  them,  as  well  as  to  others,  whose  more  or  less  variant  systems 
of  thought  go  together  to  make  up  the  conception  of  what  is  called 
the  evangelical  tlieolog}'  of  Germany  in  its  most  modern  form. 

Whatever  of  force  and  worth  the  Christological  studies  of  these 
great  men  carry  with  them  for  our  thinking,  all  is  felt  to  rest  ulti- 
mately only  in  their  bearing  on  the  actual  life  of  Christ,  and  the 
relation  they  hold  to  the  development  of  the  m^^stery  of  godliness 
in  the  actual  histor}'  of  the  Church.  Here  we  reach  what  we  feel 
to  be  surer  and  more  solid  ground  than  any  such  studies  of  them- 
selves furnish;  and  just  because  these  studies  seem  too  often  to 
stop  short  of  what  is  involved  for  faith  in  the  full  historical  appre- 
hension of  the  Christian  mystery,  as  a  continuous  presence  in  the 
world,  the^^  are  found  to  be  at  certain  points  more  or  less  unsatis- 
factor}^  in  the  end  to  our  religious  feeling.  Here  it  is  that,  with 
all  our  respect  for  German  divinity,  we  consciously  come  to  a  break 
with  it  in  our  thoughts,  and  feel  the  necessity'  of  supplementing  it 
with  the  more  practical  wa}^  of  looking  at  Christianity  which  we 
find  embodied  in  the  ancient  Creeds.  In  this  respect,  we  freely 
admit,  our  theology  is  more  Anglican  than  German.  We  stand 
upon  the  old  Creeds.     We  believe  in  the  H0I3'  Catholic  Church. 


Chap.  LII]  our  relations  to  Germany  183 

In  this  w:iy  the  Churcli  (Question,  in  partienhir,  has  come  to  have 
for  us  an  interest  and  significance  which  it  has  not,  and  cannot 
have,  even  for  the  best  thinkers  in  German^-.  .With  us,  the  whole 
Christological  interest  is  felt  to  run  into  it  as  its  necessar}-  issue 
and  end.  The  Church  challenges  our  faith  as  an  essential  part  of 
the  Christian  salvation ;  a  mystery,  to  the  acknowledgment  of 
which  we  are  shut  up  I13'  the  inward  movement  of  the  Creed.  But 
in  Germany,  they  cannot  look  at  the  matter  in  the  same  way.  Their 
circumstances  forbid  it.  Their  churches  are  dependent  on  the 
State,  are  ruled  by  civil  authority,  have  no  proper  ecclesiastical 
authority  or  power  of  their  own.  How,  standing  in  the  bosom  of 
such  Erastian  S3-stems,  can  German  theologians  be  considered  good 
authority  for  an}'  thing  that  has  to  do  with  the  proper  solution  of 
the  Church  Question  '!  We  profess  no  agreement  with  them  here, 
and  ask  from  them  no  endorsement  of  our  views.  We  know  that 
we  stand  upon  higher  ground.  Who  among  us  can  think  of  ac- 
cepting Kothe's  idea  of  the  Church,  by  which  it  is  made  to  merge 
itself  at  last  formally'  in  the  Christian  State?  AYho  that  has  had 
the  least  insight  into  the  miserable  church  relations  of  the  late  Dr. 
Ullmann,  Prelate  so  called  of  the  Church  in  Baden,  would  be  will- 
ing to  take  him  as  a  sound  expositor  of  what  the  article  of  the 
Church  means  in  the  Apostles'  Creed  ?  And  just  so  with  the  judg- 
ment of  the  excellent  Dr.  Dorner,  quoted  against  our  Liturgy  on 
the  subject  of  Ordination.  It  is  onl}'  what  was  to  be  expected. 
It  carries  with  it  for  us  no  weight  whatever.  God  forbid  that  we 
should  be  bound  here  b}'  Prussian  examples  or  Prussian  opinions. 

One  great  object  with  Dorner,  in  his  first  book,  is  to  bring  clearly 
into  view  the  original  and  only  proper  sense  of  the  material  prin- 
ciple of  Protestantism,  as  it  conditioned  find  determined  also,  at 
the  same  time,  the  sense  of  its  formal  principle.  On  these  two 
grand  hinges,  in  right  relation  to  one  another,  justification  by  faith 
and  the  exclusive  authoritj'  of  the  Scriptures,  the  universal  weight 
of  the  Reformation  must  necessarily  rest  and  turn.  But  the  onl}' 
real  foundation  of  Christianity,  objectively  considered,  is  Christ 
Himself.  Great  stress  then  is  laid  here  on  the  thought,  that  justify- 
ing faith,  in  the  Reformation  sense  of  the  term,  amounted  to  a  real 
self-authenticating  ai)prehension  of  Christ's  righteousness  through 
an  actual  laying  hold  of  his  person  and  life.  In  other  words,  that 
in  which  Christianity  started  within  the  soul,  was  held  to  be  not 
just  tlie  idea  of  the  atonement  after  all;  but  this  idea  lodged  in  the 
Incarnate  Word,  as  tiu-   power  of  salvation   back   of  all   Christ's 


134  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

doings  and  merits  in  anj^  farther  view.  This  is  all  ver}'  well,  and 
as  we  believe  profoundly  true.  The  article  of  a  standing  or  falling 
Church  becomes  thus  Christological,in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  term. 
It  centres  upon  the  person  of  Christ,  and  has  no  meaning  or  truth 
in  au}^  other  view.  Dorner  sees  well,  that  in  no  other  view  can 
there  be  any  room  to  speak  either  of  theological  consistency  or  of 
historical  continuity  for  Protestantism;  without  this,  it  must  re- 
solve itself  into  endless  coufusion  and  chaos.  We  may  Avell  say, 
therefore,  that  in  thus  maintaining  the  Christological  sense  of 
Luther's  doctrine  of  justification  b}-  faith,  Dorner  has  in  truth 
planted  himself  on  what  must  be  considered  the  very  Gibraltar  of 
the  Protestant  cause,  if  that  cause  is  to  be  successfully  defended  at 
all  on  strictly  Protestant  ground. 

But  has  Dr.  Dorner  now  shown  himself  faithful  to  his  great  posi- 
tion, in  making  no  more  of  it  than  he  has  done  for  the  historical 
treatment  of  his  subject?  With  all  our  respect  for  his  high  name, 
we  must  say  that  we  think  not.  We  cannot  help  feeling,  all  through 
his  Histor}'^,  a  certain  theological  inconsistency,  b}^  which  he  allows 
his  view  of  the  ultimate  significance  of  Christ's  person  for  the 
Gospel,  to  stop  short  with  what  it  is  in  one  direction  only  (the 
atoning  virtue  of  His  death  as  apprehended  by  justif3nng  faith), 
while  no  like  account  is  made  apparently  of  what  it  must  neces- 
saril3'  be  also  in  other  directions.  Is  it  onl}^  the  priestly  oflfice  and 
work  of  Christ,  then,  that  have  their  root  in  His  person?  Is  not 
His  person  just  as  much  the  root  also  of  His  prophetical  office  and 
work;  and  so  again  the  root  no  less  of  His  kingly  office  and  work? 
It  will  not  do  to  confine  the  Christological  principle  here,  as  Dorner 
appears  to  do,  and  as  seems  to  have  been  done  in  some  measure 
also  by  the  Reformers  of  the  sixteenth  century,  to  its  bearing  on 
the  cardinal  interest  of  the  atonement.  The  whole  Gospel  starts  in 
Christ,  the  mystery  of  the  Incarnation,  the  coming  together  of  God 
and  man  in  His  person.  This  is  the  beginning  and  foundation  of 
all  that  follows;  and  in  taking  in  this,  the  faith  that  gives. us  an 
interest  in  the  atonement  (the  material  principle  of  Protestantism) 
brings  into  us  in  truth  the  power  of  his  universal  life,  as  related  to 
the  purposes  of  our  salvation.  All  this  we  have  in  the  Creed. 
There  Christianity  begins  in  Christ,  and  rolls  itself  forward  in  the 
grand  and  glorious  life-stream  of  the  Church.  The  forgiveness  of 
sins  (on  which  Luther  first  fastened  the  anchor  of  his  faith)  is  there 
in  its  proper  place;  but  there  too  are  other  articles,  supposed  to 
be  comprehended  with  equal  necessity  in  the  Christian  m^yster}^ — 
God  manifest  in  the  flesh.     There  in  particular  is  the  article  of  the 


Chap.  LII]  review  of  dorner's  history  735 

Church,  drnwiiii!;  after  it  unquestionably,  not  onl}-  the  idea  of 
sacramental  grace  which  Dorner  admits,  but  the  idea  also  of  an 
Apostolical  ministry  b}'  Divine  consecration  (as  we  have  it  in  Eph. 
iv.  T-15),  which  Dorner  takes  pains,  if  we  understand  him  pj'operly, 
to  let  us  know  he  does  not  admit.  Here,  we  say,  we  feel  his  whole 
position,  and  the  whole  argument  of  his  Ilistory  to  be  unsatis- 
factory and  wrong;  and  just  here,  as  we  have  had  occasion  to  say 
before,  we  break  with  the  modern  German  theology'  generally,  much 
as  we  admire  it  otherwise,  because  we  find  it  untrue  to  its  own 
Christological  principle.  The  virus  of  Erastianism  is  everywhere 
in  its  veins.  We  are  willing  to  meet  all  parties,  German  or  Eng- 
lish, on  the  basis  of  the  Apostles'  Creed;  but,  God  helping  us,  we 
will  not  consent  to  stand  with  any  of  them  an3'where  else. 

I.  The  fact  of  a  progressive  falling  away  of  Protestant  theology 
and  Christianity  in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries  from 
what  they  were  in  the  sixteenth  century,  is  not  to  be  denied;  and 
whether  we  may  be  willing  or  not  to  accept  Dr.  Dorner's  view  of 
it  in  all  particulars,  it  is  certain  that  it  took  place  under  the  general 
character  at  least,  and  in  the  general  direction,  described  in  his 
book.  The  movement  was  not  confined  to  one  Confession  or  to  any 
single  country;  it  extended  to  both  Communions,  the  Lutheran  and 
the  Reformed  alike,  and  made  itself  felt  in  all  lands.  It  showed 
itself  in  this  way  to  be  the  result  of  a  common  law,  and  the  out- 
working product  of  some  common  cause  ;  whose  action  must  be  re- 
garded as  starting  in  the  religious  life  of  the  Reformation  period 
itself.  In  other  words,  the  movement  must  be  considered  as  of  a 
plainly  historical  character;  capable,  in  such  view,  of  being  ex- 
plained and  understood,  and  challenging  the  most  serious  and  sol- 
emn attention  of  all  who  take  an  interest  in  the  present  condition 
of  the  Church. 

The  movement  involves  two  grand  stages;  two  contradictory 
tendencies,  so  related  that  the  second  begins  to  work  while  the  first 
is  still  in  full  power;  works  in  the  bosom  of  the  first  as  its  own  re- 
coiling force,  till  it  becomes  finally  of  overmastering  strength,  and 
then  sweeps  all  before  it  in  the  wa^-  of  open  revolution  and  change. 
The  first  of  the  two  stages  is  the  period  of  what  Dorner  calls  one- 
sided objeciivih/  (whether  in  dogma  or  ecclesiastical  constitution); 
the  second  is  that  of  reactionary  subjectivity,  ending  in  the  nega- 
tion of  all  positive  authority  in  religion  (theoretical  free-thinking 
and  practical  unchurchliness).  The  first  meets  us  predominantly 
in  the  seventeenth  century;  the  second  in  the  eighteenth. 

The  seventeenth  century,  in  this  view,  stands  in  close  connec- 


736  AT   LANCASTER   FROM   1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

tion  with  the  sixteenth,  the  age  of  the  Reformation,  and  seems  to 
be  at  first  the  simple  continuation  of  its  religions  and  theological 
life.  The  great  object,  all  round.  Was  to  organize  and  consolidate 
the  faith  that  was  already  enshrined  in  the  Protestant  symbolical 
books.  But  it  is  eas}^  to  see,  that  this  zeal  for  the  conservation  of 
what  was  thus  handed  down  as  true  Protestant  Christianity,  ran 
soon  into  a  care  for  its  outward  form  simply  at  the  expense  of  its 
inward  life.  The  faith  of  the  sixteenth  century  was  so  intellec- 
tualized,  as  to  be  shorn  of  its  original  native  vigor  and  force.  We 
feel  that,  where  we  cannot  always  explain  it,  in  comparing  the 
spiritual  life  of  the  older  time  with  the  orthodox  thinking  of  the 
later  time.  There  was  a  something  here  in  the  theology  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  which  we  find  to  be  wantiiig  in  the  more  elaborate 
divinity  of  the  seventeenth.  So  in  the  Lutheran  Church;  and  so 
also,  full  as  much,  in  the  Reformed  Church. 

The  theology  of  the  seventeenth  century  must  be  considered  in 
this  view,  universallj',  a  falling  away  inwardl}^  (though  not  out- 
wardly), from  the  original  life  of  the  Reformation;  which  then 
drew  after  it,  however,  by  a  sort  of  logical  necessity,  a  far  more 
serious  falling  awa}"  from  itself,  as  well  as  from  the  older  faith,  in 
the  overflowing  rationalism  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Dorner  re- 
solves all  this  into  the  dissolution  of  the  original  unity  of  the  two- 
fold principle  of  Protestantism,  and  the  wrong  that  was  thus  in- 
flicted on  the  side  which  represented  the  inward  freedom  of  the  be- 
liever, by  making  all  of  the  side  that  represented  outward  authority; 
a  wrong,  which  then  by  a  righteous  nemesis  so  reacted  upon  itself, 
as  to  end  in  the  overthrow  of  this  authorit}'  altogether,  and  the 
full  unbinding  of  the  principle  of  subjectivit}^  in  all  imaginable 
forms.  How  far  this  may  bear  close  examination,  we  will  not  now 
stop  to  inquire.  Enough,  that  we  know  the  fact,  and  are  able  to 
bring  it  under  consideration  in  its  general  historical  connections. 
The  eighteenth  century,  immediately  behind  us,  was  an  age  of  what 
maybe  called  general  religious  atrophy;  an  age  of  feeble,  languish- 
ing faith;  an  age  in  which  sense  and  natural  reason  had  come  to 
rule  everywhere  the  thinking  of  the  world,  while  things  unseen  and 
eternal  were  regarded  for  the  most  part  as  visionary  abstractions. 
Not  that  all  theology  and  religion  were  dead ;  the  religious  spirit 
wrought  mightily  in  certain  quarters  against  the  reigning  power 
of  unbelief.  But  still  the  power  of  unbelief  did  reign,  on  all  sides, 
in  fact;  and  this  not  onl}^  as  open  free-thinking  and  infidelity,  but 
as  a  secret  virus  also,  that  served  to  poison  and  weaken  the  \Qvy 
life  of  faith  itself.     There  was  a  malaria  of  rationalism  diflJ'used 


Chap.  LII]  answer  to  professor  porner  737 

through  the  whole  religious  world.  The  best  piety  of  the  age  was 
of  a  scrofulous  habit;  while  its  best  theology  weut  wheezing  con- 
tinually toward  its  own  grave. 

II.  We  ma^-  be  thankful  that  we  come  after  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. Our  own  age  is  bad  enough;  but  it  is  certainly  better  in 
many  respects  than  its  predecessor.  The  movement  of  religious 
negation  seems  to  have  run  its  course;  so  far  at  least  that  it  has 
come  to  stultify-  itself,  and  thus  call  for  the  building  up  again  of 
what  it  has  sought  to  destroy,  while  the  conditions  for  such  recon- 
struction are  at  hand  as  they  never  have  been  before.  The  great 
problem  for  the  nineteenth  century  would  seem  to  be  the  restora- 
tion of  faith  from  the  disastrous  eclipse,  under  which  it  has  come 
down  to  us  from  the  century  going  before,  and  along  with  this  the 
recovery  of  theolog}'  and  religion  to  some  answerable  tone  of  vitality 
and  health. 

An  interesting  and  able  article  on  the  Liturgical  Controversy-  of 
the  German  Reformed  Church  in  the  United  States,  appears  in  a 
late  number  of  the  Jahrhiichei-'  fi'ir  deut^che  TJieoJo(/ir,  from  the 
pen  of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Dorner  of  Berlin. 

We  have  reason  to  feel  ourselves  complimented,  as  a  Church,  by 
such  notice  directed  towards  us  from  so  high  a  quai'ter.  It  is  the 
first  time  that  the  course  of  theology  in  this  country  has  drawn 
upon  itself,  to  any  such  extent,  the  observation  and  criticism  of  a 
leading  German  Review.  The  theological  scholarship  of  Germany 
has  been  ver}-  much  in  the  habit  of  slighting  the  movement  of  re- 
ligious thought  both  in  England  and  in  the  United  States,  as  hardl}" 
deserving  to  be  considered  scientific  at  all  in  any  true  sense  of  the 
term.  Dr.  Dorner  himself,  in  his  Ilistor}-  of  Protestant  Theology', 
finds  but  little  to  say  on  the  subject ;  two  or  three  pages  at  the 
close  of  the  work  being  all  he  considers  necessar}-  to  devote,  in 
particular,  to  this  country.  "  In  North  America,"  he  tells  us, 
"there  is  hardly  as  yet,  so  far  as  we  are  able  to  see,  any  connected 
literar}'  history."  He  expresses  the  hope,  however,  that  a  better 
era  for  scientific  theology  is  before  us ;  and  ends  his  book  finally 
with  these  significant  words  : 

"America  is  still  in  tlie  commencement  only  of  its  theological 
life;  but  tlu'  future  of  Protestantism  depends,  in  a  large  measure, 
on  tlie  future  development  of  this  A'igorous  peoi)le,  now  emanci- 
pated also  from  the  curse  of  slavery  ;  making  it  thus  of  incalculable 
importance,  that  the  intercourse  which  has  been  opened  there  with 
German  Protestantism  and   its  results,  should  be  maintained   and 


t38  AT   LANCASTER   FROM    1861-1876  [DiV.  XI 

enlarged.  At  present  divisions  abound,  and  the  opposition  of  par- 
ties is  too  much  a  matter  of  wilfuhiess  and  mere  outward  interest 
to  lead  to  an}-  earnest  scientific  conflict.  But  in  proportion  as  the 
sense  for  science  increases,  and  along  with  this  the  power  of 
thought, which  tends  always  to  union  by  being  directed  toward  the 
general  and  the  absolutely  true,  the  more  must  many  of  the  de- 
nominations now  existing  in  the  country  pass  away  of  themselves; 
whilst  others  will  enter  upon  a  course  of  mutual  understanding, 
that  may  be  expected  to  secure  for  their  spiritual  and  religious  life 
a  common  history,  which,  with  that  of  Great  Britain,  will  rival  in 
full  finally  the  fruitfulness  of  German  science." 

It  is  complimentary,  I  repeat,  then,  in  such  view  of  the  case,  that 
the  consideration  of  German}^  is  now  directed  toward  the  theolog- 
ical discussions  of  our  American  Reformed  Church,  in  the  way  we 
find  it  to  be  in  this  extended  and  respectful  criticism  coming  from 
so  great  a  man. 

It  is  a  matter  for  congratulation, moreover,  that  these  discussions 
themselves  are  in  this  way  gaining  broader  and  more  earnest  atten- 
tion. The  subjects  with  which  the}'  are  employed  deserve  it.  There 
have  been  those  among  us,  we  know,  who  have  not  been  disposed 
to  regard  them  in  such  light.  But  in  truth,  there  are  no  more 
practically  important  questions  before  the  Christian  world,  at  this 
time,  than  just  these  theological  debates  with  which  our  Church  is 
now  so  earnest!}'  engaged.  They  have  to  do  with  the  most  central 
and  profound  interests  of  Christianity.  It  may  possibly  help  to 
open  the  eyes  of  some  to  their  significance,  that  they  are  made,  in 
the  case  before  us,  the  object  of  so  learned  a  review  in  the  Berlin 
Jahrhucher.  Dorner's  article  shows  that  they  are  not  mere  word- 
fights,  or  controversies  about  things  of  little  or  no  account. 

Let  us  trust  also  that  it  may  help  to  lift  the  general  discussion 
above  the  level  of  mere  party  prejudice  and  strife,  and  to  give  it 
such  a  character  of  decency  and  fair  conduct,  as  all  may  see  to  be 
suitable  to  its  great  importance.  Yery  much  of  the  opposition 
which  has  been  made  in  this  countr}'  thus  far  to  what  is  called,  for 
distinction's  sake,  the  Merc>8rsburg  theology,  has  been,  in  a  form, 
the  very  reverse  of  all  this.  It  has  taken  no  pains  to  understand 
what  it  has  set  itself  to  condemn.  Its  only  force  has  been  in 
garbled  misrepresentation,  special  pleadings,  acZ  caj9<fl?!f?»m  appeals 
to  popular  prejudice  and  abusive  scurrilities  of  the  lowest  and 
poorest  sort.  I  have  myself  been  pelted  of  late  with  any  amount 
of  this  polemical  mud.  It  admits,  of  course,  of  no  notice  or  reply. 
Men  must  learn  to  be  decent  before  they  can  be  reasoned  with  as 


Chap.  LII]  ansaver  to  professor  corner  739 

rational  or  moral.  In  .sut-li  circumstances,  however,  it  is  esjiecially 
refreshing  to  fall  in  with  such  an  altogether  different  style  of  con- 
troversy, as  we  have  offered  to  us  in  this  transatlantic  article  of 
Professor  Dorner.  It  is  serious,  dignified,  calm,  gentlemanly  and 
Christian.  Wli^-  is  it,  that  the  qualities  of  controversial  truth  and 
fairness  are  so  much  harder  to  be  maintained  in  this  country,  than 
seems  to  be  the  case  in  Europe  ?  We  know  how  it  is  with  our  com- 
mon political  press,  as  contrasted  with  that  of  England.  Is  it  any 
better,  in  the  end,  with  our  religious  press  ? 

Let  Dorner's  article  serve  as  an  example,  and  as  a  rebuke,  for 
this  wretched  stA'le  of  controvers}-.  It  is  worthy  of  being  widely 
known  and  read  for  this  purpose  only,  if  for  no  other.  I  am  not 
sorrA-  to  hear,  therefore,  that  it  is  in  the  way  of  being  published 
for  general  circulation  among  us,  both  in  German  and  English.  It 
ma^'  do  good ;  and  I  have  no  apprehension,  at  all  events,  of  it§  do- 
ing any  harm. 


Xll-m  RETIREMENT  FROM  1876-1886 

^t.  73-83 


CHAPTER  LIII 


AS  the  reader  has  doubtless  observed,  Dr.  Nevin  with  his  strong 
-^^^  intellectual  powers  possessed  naturally  a  mystical  tendency 
which  grew  more  palpable  as  he  advanced  in  years.  This  showed 
itself  manifestl}'  after  he  retired  from  his  duties  in  the  College. 
It  was  a  characteristic  of  his  experience  for  him  to  look  at  the 
spiritual  and  the  invisible,  and  the  importance  of  this  posture  of 
mind  he  was  wont  to  impress  on  others  in  his  discourses  and  writ- 
ings. Afflictions  in  his  familj^  tended  to  confirm  this  tendency. 
In  the  year  1807  his  son,  Richard  Cecil,  a  promising  youth  and  a 
candidate  for  the  Christian  Ministry,  was  taken  from  the  family  by 
an  untimely  death.  In  the  year  1872,  John  Williamson,  the 
youngest  in  the  family,  who  was  expected  to  reside  with  his 
parents  and  be  a  support  to  them  in  their  declining  j^ears,  in  the 
bloom  of  youth,  was  also  snatched  away  by  the  fell  destroyer. 
These  painful  dispensations  served  more  directl}^  to  turn  the  mind 
of  Dr.  Nevin  away  from  this  world  of  fleeting  shadows  to  that  which 
is  fixed  and  eternal.  During  this  period  of  time  in  such  a  state  of 
mind  he  became  interested  in  the  writings  of  Emanuel  Swedenborg, 
the  great  Swedish  mystic.  He  had  given  his  writings  some  atten- 
tion, whilst  he  was  studying  the  Church  question,  and,  as  we  haA^e 
seen,  could  see  in  them  no  satisfactory  answer  to  the  problem 
with  which  he  was  grappling.  He  believed  in  liistory  and  in  its 
development,  whilst  Swedenborg  and  Professor  Thiersch,  the 
Irvingite,  looked  for  some  supernatural,  miraculous  interposition 
of  Providence  to  bring  order  out  of  the  confusion  in  the  body  of 
the  Church,  which  no  one  having  faith  in  history  or  a  Divine  Prov- 
idence, such  as  Dr.  NeA'in  possessed,  would  be  willing  to  postulate. 

Dr.  Nevin's  attention  was  probably  directed  to  Swedenborg's 
works,  more  particularly  by  Richard  Rothe.  After  looking  over 
his  writings,  he  once  said  he  found  it  difficult  to  interest  himself  in 
them  until  he  met  with  his  Commentaries  on  the  Old  Testament,  in 
which  he  saw  much  that  found  a  response  in  his  own  experience. 

(740) 


Chap.  LIII]  mystical  tendencies  741 

The  spiritual,  mystical  and  symbolical  interpretations  fell  in  with 
his  taste,  and  he  secured  a  Latin  edition  of  his  works,  which  he 
perused  with  pleasure,  and,  as  he  said,  with  edification.  He  soon 
discovered  that  he  possessed  a  much  greater  genius  than  was  gen- 
erall3'  conceded  at  the  time.  Mcehler,  the  great  catholic  theologian, 
who  exposed  his  Sabellianism  and  other  unchurchlj'  tenets,  says 
"he  Avas  distinguished,  on  the  one  hand,  for  acuteness  of  intellect, 
and  for  a  wide  range  of  knowledge, — particular!}-  in  the  mathe- 
matics and  the  natural  sciences, which  he  cultivated  with  great  suc- 
cess, as  evinced  b}-  his  many  writings,  highly-  prized  in  his  day  ; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  he  was  noted  for  his  full  conviction,  that 
he  held  intercourse  with  the  world  of  spirits,  whereby  he  believed 
that  he  obtained  information  on  all  matters  in  anywise  claiming 
the  attention  of  the  religious  man." — Gorres  saj's  in  his  work  on 
Swedenborg  "that  it  has  been  proved,  from  the  very  high  charac- 
ter of  this  visionarj-,  acknowledged  bj-  his  contemporaries  to  be 
pure  and  blameless,  that  the  idea  of  intentional  deceit,  on  his  part, 
cannot  be  at  all  entertained ;  and  that  his  ecstacies  may  be  best  ex- 
plained by  animal  magnetism," — Dr.  Nevin's  view  of  Swedenborg 
as  a  man  was  the  most  original,  and,  perhaps,  the  most  correct, 
when  he  once  told  the  writer  that, "  standing  in  the  sphere  of  nature, 
without  regard  to  the  form  of  his  writings,  he  regarded  him  as  one 
of  the  greatest  poets  and  philosophers,  if  not  the  greatest,  not  ex- 
cepting Dante  and  Kant." 

After  his  retirement  from  public  life  in  ISTG  he  wrote  the  follow- 
ing ten  articles  for  the  Reformed  Church  Revieio :  The  Spiritual 
World  ;  The  Testimony  of  Jesus  ;  The  Spirit  of  Prophecy;  Biblical 
Anthroi)ology ;  Sacred  Ilermeneutics,  or  God's  Voice  out  of  the 
Cloud  ;  The  Bread  of  Life,  a  Communion  Sermon ;  The  Pope's 
Encyclical;  Christ,  the  Inspiration  of  His  Word;  and  the  Inspira- 
tion of  the  Bible,  or  the  Internal  Sense  of  Holy  Scripture.  To- 
gether the}'  filled  318  pages  of  the  Review.  They  are  all  character- 
ized by  their  deep  spiritualit}'  and  their  breadth  of  view.  No  one, 
we  believe,  can  read  them  without  having  his  religious  sensibilities 
quickened  and  his  heart  strengthened.  He  wrote  the  last  with  ex- 
treme difficulty  in  the  use  of  his  fingers  whilst  writing,  and  as  his 
right  hand  had,  in  a  manner,  forgotten  its  cunning,  he  wrote  nothing 
further  for  publication.  Our  space  here  will  allow  us  to  give  the 
reader  only  brief  extracts  from  the  last  two  articles  named,  which 
will  serve  to  illustrate  his  mystical  and  theosophic  tendencies,  as 
.well  as  his  allegorico-mystical  Exege^^is.  In  the  latter  respect  he 
was  no  doubt  stimulated  by  the  Swedish  seer,  but  it  was  a  phenome- 


742  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1876-1886  [DiV.  XII 

non  that  has  manifested  itself  in  all  ages  of  the  Church,  especially 
in  the  Alexandrine  school  of  theology,  as  also  in  the  Jewish.  In 
the  case  of  Dr.  Nevin  it  was  a  Christian  mysticism,  which,  whilst 
it  made  supreme  account  of  the  spirit,  did  not  lead  him,  as  he  used 
to  say,  "to  abate  one  jot  or  tittle  of  the  letter,"  in  the  actual  his- 
torical narratives  of  the  Bible. — With  him  it  was  a  healthy  check 
upon  his  intense  intellectualism,  which  otherwise  might  have  carried 
him  away  into  the  barren  regions  of  rationalism. 

Christianit}^  begins  in  Christ,  moves  throughout  in  Christ,  and 
ends  in  Christ.  It  does  so  doctrinally,  and  it  does  so  practically. 
There  is  now,  we  are  told,  a  growing  recognition  of  this  from  all 
sides.  Less  than  half  a  century  ago,  as  some  of  us  remember,  it 
was  quite  otherwise.  The  very  terms  Christological  and'  Christo- 
centric,  as  applied  to  theology,  were  viewed  by  many  with  graA^e 
apprehension  and  distrust.  Did  they  not  carry  with  them  an  echo 
of  Schleiermacher?  Had  they  not  in  them  a  touch  of  Hegelian 
pantheism  ?  At  any  rate,  could  they  not  be  felt  to  be  somehow  off 
the  track  of  modern  evangelicalism,  not  harmonizing  rightly  with 
its  pet  traditional  shibboleths,  and  jostling  uncomfortably  its  work- 
ing methods  of  religious  life  and  belief?  Be  the  case  as  it  might, 
the  system  which  pretended  to  make  full  earnest  with  the  idea  that 
Jesus  Christ  is  Himself  literall}-  the  entire  sum  and  substance  of 
Christianity',  was  not  in  favor  with  our  American  Churches  gener- 
ally. Where  they  did  not  openly  oppose  it,  they  had  at  least  no 
heart  to  profess  it  openly.  But  all  that,  it  appears,  is  now  past. 
The  era  of  Christological  theology  has  set  in  with  a  force  which 
ma3'  be  said,  so  far  at  least  as  profession  goes,  to  carry  all  before 
it.  Our  evangelical  denominations  are  in  a  sort  of  haste  to  put 
themselves  right  in  regard  to  this  point.  The  significance  of 
Christ's  person  is  paraded  on  every  hand,  as  the  only  true  centre 
of  Christianity,  as  the  onl}^  real  soul  of  a  living  Christian  faith. 

So  far  as  it  goes  this  is  of  course  well.  We  have  reason  to  be 
pleased  with  it,  even  if  it  be  open  to  some  question ;  and  maj^  saj^ 
with  St.  Paul  to  the  Philippians,  "whether  in  pretence,  or  in  truth, 
Christ  is  preached,  and  we  do  therein  rejoice,  yea,  and  will  rejoice." 
The  only  wonder  in  the  case  is  that  there  could  ever  be  any  room, 
among  professing  Christians,  to  think  or  spea'k  of  Christianity  as 
not  being  Christological  in  this  general  view.  For  is  it  not  a 
Gospel  truism,  for  all  those  who  believe  in  the  Gospel,  that  Christ 
is  for  the  spiritual  world  what  the  sun  is  for  the  natural  world?. 
So  that  a  solar  system  without  the  light  and  poise  of  its  proper 


Chap.  LIII]  the  interior  sense.  743 

centre  in  snch  form  must  be  taken  as  a  faint  image  only  of  what 
God's  new  creation  in  Christ  Jesus  would  be,  without  the  presence 
in  it  of  the  Lord  of  life  and  glory  Himself  forever  ruling  it  in  like 
central  way. 

But  we  ma}-  not  rest  here  in  this  merely  general  view.  All  tlie 
great  truths  of  Christianity  come  before  us  first  of  all  under  such 
general  or  common  aspect;  but  only  that  the}-  may  be  filled  out 
then  afterwards  with  si)ecific  particulars  and  details,  by  wliicli  they 
are  carried  forward  continually  more  and  more  toward  the  fulness 
of  their  projier  sense  in  God.  Only  as  they  thus  live  and  move 
toward  the  infinite,  first  on  earth  and  afterwards  in  heaven,  can 
they  be  said  to  be  truths  at  all.  How,  then,  must  it  not  1)e  thus 
also  with  the  fountain  head  of  all  Christian  truths,  Jesus  Christ 
Himself,  when  brought  within  the  telescopic  range  of  human  or 
angelic  vision?  For  any  seriousl}-  thoughtful  mind  the  question 
answers  itself. 

And  thus  it  is  that  we  are  brought  finall}:  to  the  inmost  and 
highest  mode  of  looking  at  Christ  and  His  kingdom  ;  that  by  which 
we  communicate  directly  with  the  veritable  life  of  the  Lord  Him- 
self, and  so  are  made  to  see  Him  in  some  measure  as  He  is  in  His 
own  actual  being,  high  above  all  terrestrial  and  even  celestial  glory 
in  eveiy  lower  form.  In  distinction  from  the  mechanical  and  the- 
oretic modes  of  apprehending  divine  things  this  may  be  denomi- 
nated the  vital  mode.  It  brings  us  to  the  conception  of  Christian 
fiiith  in  its  true  and  full  form.  There  is  room  indeed  to  sj^eak  of 
faith,  and  so  of  life  also,  as  belonging  to  the  lower  planes  of  knowl- 
edge we  have  named.  But  that  then  is'onl}-  through  obscure  deri- 
vation of  light  into  these  lower  spheres  from  the  sphere  above  them, 
when  they  are  found  in  what  we  have  just  seen  to  be  their  only 
normal  relation  to  this,  as  precursive  stadia  toward  the  coming  of 
the  new  man  in  Christ  Jesus.  In  themselves,  outside  of  this 
heavenl}-  revelation,  they  have  in  them  no  life,  and  no  light,  and 
therefore  no  vision  of  fiiith;  because  there  can  be  in  them  no  radia- 
tion from  the  great  centre  of  all  being,  the  love  of  God  in  His  Son 
Jesus  Christ. 

Just  here  it  is  that  we  have  the  true  idea  of  faith,  as  distinguished 
from  all  inferior  knowledge  and  intelligence.  It  is  the  vision  of 
God  in  God,  the  seeing  of  divine  things  in  their  own  divine  lights. 
LTnintelligible  mystery  and  nonsense  of  course  to  the  universal 
natural  mind;  but  the  only  key  nevertheless  that  can  ever  surely 
open  to  us  the  interior  sense  of  the  Bible.  For  the  Bible  is  full  of 
it,  Old  Testament  and  New,  from  beginning  to  end.      It  is  the 


744  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1876-1886  [DiV.  XII 

evidence  and  demonstration  of  things  whicli  are  snpernatural  and 
invisible  to  mere  worldly  sense  or  thonght  or  reason,  because  it  is 
itself  born  of  them  and  is  the  power  of  seeing  them  therefore  as 
the)'  are  in  their  own  light.  "  It  is  not  of  yourselves,"  says  St. 
Paul,  "it  is  the  gift  of  God  "  (Eph.  ii.  8).  Onl}-  we  must  not  think 
of  it  then  in  the  outward  mechanical  or  in  the  merely  theoretic 
way;  it  comes  into  us  in  the  way  of  actual  life  from  the  Lord, 
reaching  us  b}'  the  living  word  of  the  Lord,  which  is  thus  at  once 
then  both  this  word  itself  and  its  own  vision  in  our  souls  from  the 
Lord  Himself.  His  life  from  the  beginning,  we  are  expressly'  told, 
has  been  the  only  true  light  of  men  (John  i.  4);  which  is  also  the 
meaning  of  the  Psalmist  when  he  saj's :  ''  With  Thee  is  the  fountain 
of  life;  in  Thy  light  shall  ive  see  lighf^  (Ps.  xxxvi.  9). 

The  Divine  Trinity  comes  into  intelligible  view  only  in  the  person 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  "No  man  (outside  of  Him)  hath  seen 
God  at  any  time;  the  onl3'  begotten  Son,  which  is  in  the  bosom  of 
the  Father,  He  hath  declared  Him."  Not  theoretically  of  course; 
not  doctrinally;  but  as  being  himself  actually  the  life,  and  power, 
and  glory  of  the  Father.  "  No  man  knoweth  the  Father,"  He  Him- 
self tells  us,  "but  the  Son,  and  he  to  whomsoever  the  Son  will 
reveal  Him."  Through  the  Son  there  is  a  real  knowing  of  the 
Father,  and  so  of  the  whole  Trinity;  not  indeed  the  infinite  know- 
ing which  belongs  to  the  Son ;  but  still  in  its  finite  degree  of  one 
nature  with  that;  not  black  agnosticism  b}'  any  means,  but  a  real 
revelation,  making  itself  known  as  the  light  of  life  from  God  in  the 
rational  soul  of  every  true  believer. 

Manifested  in  this  way,  the  Holy  Trinity-  comes  before  us,  not  as 
a  dead  fact,  but  as  an  organized  living  and  working  Infinite  Love, 
Infinite  Wisdom,  and  Infinite  Power,  whose  threefold  distinction 
may  never  be  separated  for  a  moment  from  its  fundamental  unity. 
Holding  the  rayster}^  strictly,  as  we  must,  to  the  person  of  Christ, 
in  whom  only  it  is  rcA'ealed,  there  is  no  room  for  any  doubt  in  re- 
gard to  its  general  constitution  and  order.  He  is  its  only  manifes- 
tation, the  central  unit}-  in  which  its  whole  triplicity  comes  together 
as  an  object  of  faith.  "In  him  dwelleth,"  we  are  told,  "all  the  ful- 
ness of  the  Godhead  bodily."  That  at  once  makes  Him  to  be  the 
very  wholeness  of  God,  the  one  onl}^  absolute  and  true  God.  We 
have  no  right  to  think  of  God  in  any  otlier  form ;  and  when  we  do 
so,  we  are  but  dealing  with  a  metaphysical  abstraction,  which  is  at 
bottom  a  denial  of  His  actual  being  altogether.  Nothing  can  be 
clearer  or  stronger  than  the  self-testimonj-  of  Christ,  in  His  Word, 
on  this  point.     He  and  the  Father  are  one;  all  things  of  the  Father 


ClIAI'.    LTIl]  TIIK    INTKUKtR    SENSE  145 

are  Ills;  mid  in  Him  is  comprehended  in  like  manner  the  entire 
presence  and  workin<2:  of  the  Holy  (ihost.  ''We  know  that  the  Son 
of  (xod  is  come,  and  hath  given  ns  an  understanding,  tiiat  we  may 
know  Ilim  that  is  true,  and  we  are  in  him  tliat  is  true,  even  in  His 
Son  Jesus  Christ.  This  is  the  true  God,  and  eternal  life."  All 
other  view  of  the  Divine  is  but  the  creature  of  man's  own  imagina- 
tion, vain  and  false.  And  therefore  it  is  added  solemnly,  "  Little 
children,  keep  yourselves  from  idols"  (1  John  v.  20,  21). 

The  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  thus,  in  Jesus  Christ,  is  supremely 
practical,  passing  safely  the  shoals  of  Deism,  Unitarianism,  and 
Mohammedanism  on  the  one  hand,  while  it  avoids  on  the  other 
hand  the  no  less  common  and  dangerous  heresy  of  Tritheism,  the 
worship  of  three  Gods  instead  of  one. 

We  are  brought  thus  to  the  true  touch-stone  or  test  of  Insjiiration. 
In  the  midst  of  all  conflicting  schemes  and  theories,  the  Bible  itself 
shuts  us  u})  to  this  as  being  its  inmost  essence,  namely,  Christ  Him- 
self in  the  Word,  both  as  the  wisdom  of  God  and  the  power  of  God 
unto  salvation.  Xot  mereh'  with  the  Word  externally,  or  above 
it,  bv  the  separate  action  of  His  Si)irit,  but  in  the  very  bosom  of 
the  Word  as  its  actual  spirit  and  life.  A  hard  saying,  exclaims  the 
natural  mind;  who  can  hear  it?  Hut  have  we  not  his  own  witness 
for  it,  in  the  direct  face  of  that  unbelieving  question:  "  The  words 
that  I  speak  unto  yon,  they  are  spirit  and  the^-  are  life  "  (John  vi. 
(53)?  It  is  sorry  subterfuge  to  limit  this  to  what  goes  before  in  the 
same  chapter.  It  refers  to  His  words  universally.  All  words 
going  out  from  Him,  the  absolute  life  and  truth,  must  be  of  this 
character — must  be  b^'  that  fact  itseir  supernatural  and  inspired 
words.  And  how  then  can  it  be  otherwise  with  the  words  he  spake 
in  time  past  by  the  prophets,  through  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  Giver  of 
life?  Inspiration  means  such  life  to  start  with;  l)ut  if  so,  it  means 
also  such  life  abiding  with  it  througii  all  following  time.  For  ex- 
ample, the  life  which  was  breathed  into  the  Ten  Commandments 
when  they  were  first  spoken  from  mount  Sinai,  must  be  in  them  to 
this  day,  if  the}'  are  still  inspired.  In  no  other  view  can  they  be 
said  to  be  the  word  of  God  which  liveth  and  abideth  forever.  We 
might  as  well  talk  of  the  stars  being  settled  in  heaven,  without 
having  in  them  still  the  life  of  the  word  which  first  spake  them  into 
being. 

Much  of  the  debate  we  have  at  the  present  time  concerning  In- 
spiration becomes  here  of  no  account.  The  question  esi)ecially  be- 
tw^een  verbalism  and  what  we  may  call  realism  falls  to  the  ground  ; 
because  both  these  theories  rest  on  a  lower  plane  altogether  than 
47 


746  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1876-1886  [DiV.  XII 

that  of  the  high  Christological  truth  now  before  us,  and  both  alike 
therefore,  in  its  presence,  come  under  what  is  substantially  the 
same  condemnation.  They  give  us  on  both  sides  what  is  at  best, 
b}'^  their  own  confession,  but  a  natural  inspiration  instead  of  a 
spiritual  inspiration;  a  providential  leading  of  ordinarj^  human 
thought  and  speech,  in  difference  from  the  actual  descent  of  the 
Divine  itself  into  such  human  thought  and  speech.  In  this  view 
both  violate  the  inwaji-d  sanctity  of  the  Word  of  God,  b^'  turning  it 
into  a  Word  of  man.  Verbalism  stiffens  thus  into  mechanical 
bondage;  while  realism  evaporates  into  latitudinarian  freedom, 
losing  itself  at  last  in  broad  open  rationalism. 

Our  Christocentric  theology,  therefore,  can  never  stop  safel}'  in 
an}'  such  intellectual  or  mereh'  sentimental  flight.  It  must  mount 
up  by  faith  to  an  emp^'rean  height  far  be3'ond  this.  "  Hast  thou 
not  known,"  is  the  voice  of  our  glorified  Jehovah  Immanuel  Him- 
self; "hast  thou  not  heard,  that  the  cA^erlasting  God,  the  Lord,  the 
Creator  of  the  ends  of  the  earth,  fainteth  not,  neither  is  weary  ? 
There  is  no  searching  of  His  understanding.  He  giveth  power  to 
the  faint,  and  to  them  that  have  no  might  He  increaseth  strength. 
Even  the  youths  shall  faint  and  be  weary,  and  the  young  men  shall 
utterly  fall.  But  they  that  wait  upon  the  Lord  shall  renew  their 
strength  ;  they  shall  mount  up  with  wings  as  eagles  ;  they  shall 
run,  and  not  be  wear}';  and  the}'  shall  walk,  and  not  faint"  (Is.  xl. 
28-31). 

I  quote  these  great  words,  not  at  random,  nor  for  any  mere  rhe- 
torical effect.  They  go  directly  to  the  heart  of  the  subject  which  I 
have  now  in  hand — namely  this  :  the  central  meaning  of  the  Gos- 
pel, as  the  disclosure  of  a  new  world  of  powers  in  the  living  Christ, 
transcending  supernaturally  the  universal  constitution  of  nature, 
and  carrying  in  itself  both  the  promise  and  the  possibility  of  vic- 
tor}' for  our  fallen  humanity  over  all  the  evils  under  which  it  is 
found  groaning  so  hopelessly  through  the  ages,  in  every  other  view. 
They  fix  attention  on  the  great  thought  of  the  world's  redemption, 
not  as  a  philosophical  dream,  not  as  a  Zoroastrian  myth  of  any 
sort,  and  not  as  the  figment  of  a  Christ  aiming  to  rectify  the  dis- 
order of  sin  through  any  simply  outward  teaching  or  working  in 
God's  name  ;  but  as  nothing  less  in  truth  than  the  coming  down  of 
God  Himself  into  the  sphere  of  the  fallen,  and  within  their  reach, 
for  the  purpose  of  joining  them,  through  a  new  spiritual  birth,  with 
Himself,  and  thus  raising  them  to  the  actual  life  of  heaven. 

This  is  the  great  thought  indeed  which  underlies  the  entire  struc- 
ture of  the  Old  Testament  from  Genesis  to  Malachi.     No  part  of 


Chap.  LIII]  the  interior  sense  HI 

the  Word  of  God  thei-e,  the  "things  written  in  the  law  of  Moses, 
and  in  the  prophets,  and  in  the  psalms,"  is  at  all  intelligible  withont 
it.  The  Jews  of  old  would  not  see  it  or  believe  it ;  and  their  un- 
belief here  is  charged  against  them  as  the  very  culmination  of  their 
refusal  to  believe  in  Christ  Himself  Can  it  be  an}-  better  than 
such  Jewish  self-condemnation,  when  men  calling  themselves  Chris- 
tians now  refuse  in  the  same  way  to  see  or  own  the  Lord  directly' 
in  these  Scriptures  ?  Most  surely  such  persons  cannot  seriously- 
believe  in  the  inspiration  of  the  Old  Testament.  The}^  may  say 
they  do  so;  but  it  is  a  contradiction  in  terms  to  predicate  divine 
inspiration  of  a  book,  and  j^et  hold  that  Christ,  the  source  of  all 
real  living  inspiration,  is  not  in  it  except  as  our  poor  human  think- 
ing about  Him  may  be  supposed  somehow  to  put  Him  there. 

What  Ave  need  above  all  things  in  our  Christian  life  is  to  see  and 
know,  that  we  have  to  do  in  it  not  with  the  notion  simply  of  spirit- 
ual and  heavenly  things ;  but  with  those  things  as  the}'  are  in  their 
own  actual  being  and  objectivity.  How  slow  we  are  to  learn  com- 
monly that  religion  is  for  us,  at  all  points,  a  question,  not  of  no- 
tions, but  of  divine  realities — a  matter,  not  for  speculation,  but  for 
living  personal  experience.  Through  want  of  due  regard  to  this 
distinction,  we  are  ever  in  danger  of  wronging  even  the  first  prin- 
ciples of  what  we  call  our  Christian  faith.  Our  faith  itself,  on 
which  so  much  depends,  becomes  for  us  thus  too  often  only  a  sort 
of  talismanic  rod  to  conjure  with  ;  while  the  docti'ines  we  hold  are 
found  to  be  little  better  than  a  ghostl}-  simulacrum  simply  of  the 
high  spiritual  realities  thej'  are  meant  to  express.  This,  of  course, 
is  deplorable  enough  where  it  affects  any  of  the  simply  derivative 
articles  of  the  true  Christian  creed  ;  but  how  much  more  so  when 
it  is  found  affecting,  not  such  secondary  doctrines  only,  but  the 
very  fountain  head  of  all  revelation  and  all  doctrine  as  we  have  it 
in  the  Lord  of  life  and  glory  Himself. 

Here  all  depends  on  the  felt  presence  of  the  life  and  glory  of 
Christ  as  they  are  in  themselves.  Without  this,  the  highest  soar- 
ing of  our  notional  faith  becomes  but  a  mockerj'  of  what  it  pre- 
tends to  see  and  acknowledge.  A  hollow  Christology  in  such  form 
oroes  be3'ond  all  other  hollowness  in  its  power  to  lay  waste  the 
Christian  system.  It  is  the  supreme  heresy-;  the  great  red  seven- 
headed  and  ten-horned  dragon  of  the  Apocalypse;  the  heresy  of  all 
other  heresies;  just  because  it  goes  to  extinguish,  as  far  as  it  pre- 
vails,the  Sun  of  righteousness  in  the  Christian  heaven;  and  to  hurl 
down  from  thence  to  the  earth  all  the  stars  of  true  Christian  intel- 
ligence.    A  merel}'  gnostic  docetic  Christ  has  been  in  all  ages  the 


748  IN   RETIREMENT    FROM    1876-1886  [DiV.  XII 

inmost  central  enemy  of  Christianity,  warring  not  only  against  the 
true  idea  of  Christ  Himself,  but  against  the  substance  and  living 
power,  at  the  same  time,  of  ever^^  evangelical  truth  flowing  from 
this  idea. 

A  merely  gnostic  docetic  Christ,  it  can  never  be  too  loudly  pro- 
claimed, brings  gnosticism  and  unreality  into  every  head  and  topic 
of  Christian  theology,  as  well  as  into  all  Christian  worship.  It 
steals  away  the  true  heart  of  all  evangelic  religion,  turning  its  wor- 
ship into  mummery  and  cant,  and  its  good  works  into  pharisaic 
externalism.  It  poisons  the  life  out  of  all  evangelical  doctrines, 
by  substituting  for  the  breath  of  God's  Spirit  in  them,  the  miser- 
able breath  of  its  own  spiritualistic  imaginings,  which  are  earthly 
only  and  not  heavenl}-,  born  of  the  natural  human  self,  and  there- 
fore diabolic  and  infernal.  In  this  way  there  is  no  doctrine,  how- 
ever high  or  sacred,  such  as  the  holy  Trinity,  the  incarnation,  the 
righteousness  of  Christ,  the  atonement,  regeneration,  and  all  the 
rest,  which  it  is  not  found  possible  for  this  proton  pseudos  to  infect 
where  it  prevails  with  its  own  bad  leaven,  and  thus  to  turn  its 
proper  vitality  into  corruption  and  death. 

Here  then  only  we  see  how  it  is  that  the  intellectual  side  of 
Christianity  is  to  become  practical,  moral  or  ethical,  as  the  world 
aflfects  to  call  it,  in  distinction  from  the  bigotrj-  of  creeds.  The 
intellectual  is  indeed  but  the  outward  side  of  what  is  to  be  under- 
stood by  the  moral.  It  must  have  its  soul  in  this  to  be  at  all  real ; 
and  for  this  purpose,  it  must  have  in  it  the  power  of  actual  life. 
But  then,  where  shall  such  empowering  life  be  found?  In  the 
human. mind  or  soul  itself,  answers  humanitarianism  ;  it  belongs  to 
men  as  an  inherent  part  of  their  creation.  0  miserable  madness 
and  folly  I  Life  is  not  thus  creatable,  nor  atomistic,  nor  subject  to 
the  measurement  of  time  and  space.  It  belongs  in  its  essence  and 
fulness  only  to  the  absolute  being  of  God  ;  and  if  it  is  to  be  in  men 
at  all,  naturally  or  ethically,  it  must  be  in  them  first  of  all  spirit- 
ually, as  the  gift  of  God,  made  continuous  in  them  onl}^  through 
continuous  derivation  from  its  everlasting  fountain  in  God.  Such 
is  the  voice  with  which  we  are  met  from  the  inmost  sanctuary  of 
divine  revelation.  The  voice,  which  alone,  sounding  forth  from 
between  the  wings  of  the  cherubim,  can  ever  open  to  us  the  real 
meaning  of  the  Christian  redemption  and  salvation;  the  real  sig- 
nificance of  our  Lord's  humbling  Himself  to  be  born  of  a  virgin, 
that  He  might,  through  His  personal  triumphs  over  hell,  throw 
open  to  men  the  gates  of  paradise,  otherwise  so  hopelessly  closed 
against  them  by  the  fall.     Just  this,  and  nothing  less  than  this,  is 


Chap.  LIII]  the  interior  sense  749 

the  boon  established  and  eonfirnied  to  us  first  of  all  by  His  death 
and  resurrection,  His  ascension  and  glorification,  and  His  being 
made  in  His  divine  humanity  head  over  all  things  to  His  true  in- 
visible Church  ;  which  is  united  and  joined  to  Him  through  the 
power  of  His  glorified  life,  as  the  body  of  a  man  is  joined  to  his 
living  soul. 

All  the  realms  of  natural  science  are  turned  into  darkness,  where 
there  is  no  power  to  study  them  in  their  relation  to  the  kingdom 
of  heaven,  descending  upon  them,  and  into  them,  from  the  fountain 
of  all  life,  in  Him  who  is  here  the  absolute  supreme,  the  beginning, 
the  middle,  and  end  of  the  works  of  God.  Men  of  science,  of  course, 
are  not  ordinaril}-  prepared  to  admit  this.  Nature  seems  to  lie  be- 
fore them  as  an  open  book,  capable  of  being  read  from  Avithin  itself, 
without  any  higher  help.  Its  truths,  as  the^'  call  them,  carry  in 
themselves,  as  far  as  they  go,  their  own  evidence  and  demonstra- 
tion ;  and  to  talk  of  their  needing  an^*  sort  of  verification  from  a 
supposed  higher  spiritual  or  supernatural  sphere,  the}'  regard  as 
palpably  absurd.  Where  such  thinking  has  sway,  there  can  be,  of 
course,  no  real  belief  in  divine  revelation  under  any  form;  and, 
least  of  all,  under  the  conception  of  such  a  living  headship  as  is 
set  before  us  in  the  Hivine-lunnan  Christ,  exalted  in  the  way  we 
have  seen  fir  above  all  worlds  and  all  heavens.  And  it  is  very  no- 
ticeable, accordinglv,how  our  men  of  science,  generall}-  even  where 
they  may  condescendingly  allow  a  divine  principle  of  some  sort 
back  of  their  dead  naturalism,  yet  shrink  from  the  owning  of  it  in 
any  such  concrete  realistic  shape  as  this,  as  though  it  must  prove 
fatal  at  once  to  all  their  scientific  pretensions.  But  this  .simply 
shows  how  grossly  unscientific  their  science  is,  in  not  being  able 
to  bear  the  Ithuriel  touch  of  that  great  word,  "I  am  Alpha  and 
Omega,  the  beginning  and  the  end,  the  first  and  the  last"  (Rev, 
xxii.  13). 


CHAPTER  LIV 

A  FTER  Dr.  Nevin  had  retired  from  active  dut}^  in  the  Church, 
-^^  he  endeavored  to  lead  a  quiet  and  peaceable  life  in  all  god- 
liness and  honesty;  and  as  he  said  to  more  persons  than  his  cousin, 
to  prepare  himself  for  another  world.  He  wrote  from  time  to  time, 
as  we  have  seen,  for  the  Reformed  Church  Bevieiv,  until  the  year 
1883,  when  failing  eye-sight  and  trembling  hand  made  it  very  diffi- 
cult to  him  any  longer  to  wield  his  pen. — As  often  as  he  was  called 
on,  he  preached  in  the  College  Chapel,  and  it  is  generall^^  conceded 
that  his  last  discourses  were  among  the  most  remarkable  that  he 
ever  delivered,  both  as  it  regards  spirituality  and  wide  range  of 
thought.  In  former  times  he  laid  emphasis  on  the  thought  that 
our  own  world  was  an  organic  whole,  which  was  to  be  saved  and 
redeemed  by  Christianity;  but, as  if  his  range  of  spiritual  vision  had 
widened,  he  began  more  and  more  to  look  upon  the  entire  universe 
as  an  organism,  in  which  Christ  was  the  head  over  innumerable 
worlds,  inhabited  by  intelligent  beings  like  ourselves. — It  is  most 
likely  he  was  stimulated  to  take  this  view  of  the  case  by  the  Swedish 
prophet. — The  length  of  his  sermons  was  increased  rather  than 
diminished.  In  one  instance  he  delivered  three  introdnctor}-  dis- 
courses, before  he  came  to  consider  the  more  immediate  subject  of  his 
text.     The  third  was  the  last  which  he  ever  delivered.     For  some 

i  years  his  voice  was  as  fii'm  and  sonorous  as  when  he  first  preached  in 
the  College  Chapel  at  Mercersburg.  At  length  it  lost  its  energy,  and 
he  confined  himself  to  his  ordinary-  conversational  style  of  speak- 
ing. Soon  this  also  cost  him  too  much  physical  exertion,  and  hav- 
ing preached  his  last  sermon,  he  became  a  devout  worshipper  and  an 
attentive  listener  to  others,  who  often  reproduced  his  own  thoughts, 
whilst  he,  sitting  invariably  in  the  same  seat  on  the  side  of  the 
chancel,  like  his  namesake  among  the  Apostles,  seemed  to  be  present 
as  the  presiding  elder  or  spirit  in  the  Church. 

He  continued  to  take  an  intelligent  interest  in  the  important 
events  of  the  day ;  but  all  the  while  he  seemed  to  regard  the  world 
as  being  in  a  cj'isis,  on  the  eve  of  great  changes,  in  which  the  past 

'  would  be  buried,  and  a  new  era  was  to  dawn  for  the  world  in  the 
coming  of  Christ  in  His  Kingdom.  In  this  posture  of  mind  he  re- 
sembled Neander,  who  was  accustomed  thus  to  regard  the  course  of 
human  events  and  to  observe  the  signs  of  the  times. 

(750) 


Chap.  LIV]  reminiscences  751 

The  spiritual  and  invisible  appeared  to  engage  his  attention  and 
thoufrlits  more  than  anything  else.  The  Bible  was  his  daily  study 
and  deliglit.  When  no  longer  able  to  trace  the  letters  on  its  pages, 
it  was  read  to  him  in  the  Latin  translation,  which  he  regarded  as 
particularly  expressive. — On  one  occasion  he  commenced  a  con- 
versation with  a  young  friend  on  the  veranda  on  the  subject  of  the 
Scriptures,  which  was  prolonged  on  his  part  for  an  hour.  Among 
other  things  he  criticised  the  modern  system  of  education  as  defi- 
cient in  the  attention  paid  to  mcmor}',  the  idea  being  that  the  old 
mechanical  method  of  memorizing  was  of  no  real  benefit  to  the 
mind.  In  his  opinion  memory  4is  a  faculty  was  deteriorating  under 
the  new  ideas..  When  3'oung  it  is  easy  for  the  mind  to  memorize, 
but  with  age  the  other  faculties  become  more  active,  and  it  is  more 
difficult  to  remember  words,  facts  or  events.  He  said  that,  if  he 
then  had  a  child  to  train,  he  thought  one  of  the  most  important 
things  to  attend  to  in  its  education  would  be  to  store  its  receptive 
mind  with  words  of  Scripture  and  the  answers  in  the  Catechism. 
Thus  in  after  years  they  would  come  up  in  its  recollections  as 
words  of  strength  and  comfort  in  time  of  need. — He  also  spoke  of 
his  Princeton  professor,  when  he  was  a  student,  who  recjuired  all 
the  members  of  his  class  to  memorize  a  verse  of  the  Bible,  dail}', 
and  at  the  opening  of  each  recitation  some  one  was  called  on  to 
repeat  the  verse  he  had  thus  committed — to  show  that  the  task  had 
been  properly  attended  to.  From  that  time  he  said  that  he  adopted 
it  as  a  rule  to  memorize  a  portion  of  Scripture  every  day — nulla 
dies  sine  versu — and  that  it  was  now  a  matter  of  regret  to  him  that 
he  had  not  pursued  this  as  a  rule  of  his  life  at  an  earlier  day  when 
he  was  still  a  child;  but  that  it  was,  at  the  same  time,  a  source  of 
much  comfort  to  him,  as  that  which  had  been  stored  awa}^  in  his 
memory  came  up  vividly  before  his  mind,  furnishing  him  with  in- 
teresting topics  for  thought  and  meditation  in  his  old  age. 

On  another  occasion,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jacob  0.  Miller,  of  York,  Pa., 
one  of  iiis  students  at  Mercersburg,  but  at  the  time  a  member  of  the 
Board  of  Trustees  of  the  College,  and  one  of  his  firmest  supports  in 
hi*  many  fruitful  labors  in  the  past, called  to  see  him  and  found  him 
alone  in  his  study.  The  world  had  become  dim  and  misty  to  his 
vision,  and  he  could  not  distinguish  the  features  of  his  old  friend 
and  former  puiiil,  Imt  he  recognized  him  at  once  by  his  familiar 
voice.  Referring  to  his  eye-sight,  he  expressed  his  gratitude  to 
God  that  he  had  been  led  to  commit  so  much  of  the  Scripture  to 
memory';  and  then,  as  if  awakened  from  a  dream,  he  went  on  to 
speak  of  the  great  beauty  and  excellence  of  the  word  of   God; 


752  IN   RETIREMENT    FROM    1876-1886  [DiV.  XII 

"wliich  was  refreshing  in  the  highest  degree  to  one  who  was  a  very 
attentive  listener. — The  habit  here  referred  to  will  serve  to  explain 
the  facilit}'  and  accurac}^  with  which  Dr.  Nevin  was  accustomed  to 
quote  the  Scriptures  in  his  discourses  and  writings.  He  never  hes- 
itated and  seldom,  if  ever,  failed  to  use  the  precise  words  in  his 
quotations. 

He  had  always  been  accustomed  to  walk  from  his  house  to 
the  College,  a  distance  of  nearl}^  a  mile,  for  the  sake  of  exercise, 
until  some  time  before  his  decease.  He  then  came  with  the 
famil}',  in  his  carriage,  to  attend  worship  in  the  College  Chapel. 
Once  whilst  waiting  after  service  in  front  of  the  building  for  his 
coachman,  some  one  expressed  to  him  his  regrets  that  he  could  not 
see  the  beautiful  landscape  extending  far  off  into  the  distance. 
With  some  degree  of  naivete  he  replied  that  it  looked  to  him  like 
an  ocean  of  mist,  but  that  it  made  very  little  difference  to  him.  He 
had  thought  that  he  would  suffer  most  when  he  should  no  longer 
be  able  to  read  the  papers ;  but  that  he  had  found  that  such  depri- 
vation gave  him  little  or  no  discomfort, and  that  it  was  to  him  gain 
rather  than  loss.  Through  others'  eyes  he  learned  what  interested 
him  in  the  affairs  of  the  world,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  him  not  to 
read  the  promiscuous  news  of  the  day. 

At  length  somewhat  apprehensive  of  a  mishap  in  ascending  the 
steps  leading  up  to  the  Chapel,  he  gradually  ceased  to  attend  divine 
worship.  Few,  if  any,  looked  at  his  vacant  seat  without  a  feel- 
ing of  sadness, and.  of  foreboding  that  the  beginning  of  the  end  was 
drawing  near.  The  venerable  father,  with  his  silvery  hair  and  his 
devout  expression  of  countenance,  was  no  longer  in  the  midst  of 
the  congregation  to  impress  others  with  his  saintlj'  presence. 

The  communion  of  the  Lord's  Supper  was  celebrated  on  Easter 
Sunday,  April  25,  1886,  and  Dr.  Nevin  was  once  more  present  in 
his  place  in  the  sanctuar^^  and,  as  might  be  supposed,  seemed  to 
give  tone  to  the  service  hy  his  venerable  appearance.  After  the 
worship  was  concluded  many  gathered  around  to  shake  hands  with 
him  and  to  congratulate  him  on  seeing  him  again  in  church.  A 
number  of  little  children  went  up  with  their  mothers  to  look  at  the 
aged  patriarch.  Without  being  able  to  see  them,  he  soon  recog- 
nized their  presence,  and  extending  out  his  arms  towards  them, 
wished  them  to  come  nearer;  and  as  he  took  each  small  hand  made 
some  gentle  remarks  in  smiling  response  to  their  Easter  greetings. 
As  he  sat  there  surrounded  by  the  little  circle  a  lieautiful  and 
affecting  picture  was  impressed  on  children  of  older  growth,  who 
witnessed  the  scene.     Xhis,  we  may  say,  was  an  illustration  of  the 


Chap.  LIY]  reminiscences  153 

tender  feeling-  Mliicli  the  jjresence  of  little  children  \v!i>  Avont  to 
awaken  in  Dr.  Nevin's  mind.  More  than  once,  in  addressing  Sun- 
day-schools, he  found  it  impossible  to  repress  his  emotions  as  he 
referred  to  the  dangei-s  which  surrounded  them  in  this  world  of 
sin,  of  which  they  Avere  as  yet  all  unconscious.  On  such  occa- 
sions his  voice  sometimes  faltered  and  his  tongue  refused  to  obej' 
his  strong  will.  His  silence  thus  became  so  much  the  more  elo- 
quent, and  there  were  few  in  the  audience  who  did  not  sympathize 
with  him. 

The  mask  of  calmnness  which  he  usually  wore  was  broken 
through  still  more  when  he  officiated  in  Holy  Baptism.  Often  with 
a  little  babe  in  his  arms,  "the  marble  man  "  quivered  with  emotion 
as  he  performed  the  impressive  rite;  and  he  always  seemed  to  evince 
special  interest  in  the  children  he  had  so  consecrated.  The  last 
time  his  hands  were  laid  on  the  head  of  a  child  in  this  solemn  act 
was  in  the  College  Chapel  before  the  assembled  congregation,  as  he 
gave  his  own  name  to  his  first  grandson. 

As  we  have  seen  in  the  eai-lier  part  of  his  life,  he  made  it  a  i)oint 
to  be  strict  and  regular  in  his  private  devotions.  This  habit  he 
continued  to  maintain  in  after  3'ears,  but  he  also  made  much  ac- 
count of  ejaculatory  praj'ers,  as  he  called  them,  which  he  regarded 
as  often  more  powerful  than  any  other.  In  such  instances  the 
Christian,  if  he  could  not  enter  his  closet  literally,  could  neverthe- 
less enter  the  closet  of  his  owu  mind,  and  fulfil  the  spirit  of  the 
Scriptural  precept.  But  it  sometimes  happens  that  the  individual — ' 
like  Xathanael  under  the  fig-tree — cannot  get  where  no  eye  can  see 
him.  This  Avas  true  on  one  occasion,  at  least,  with  Dr.  Xevin. 
Whilst  he  was  still  teaching  he  onee  entered  his  class-room  before 
the  hour  of  recitation  and  locked  the  door  after  him.  His  class 
gathered  in  the  passage  and  thei'e  AA-aited  for  the  ojiening  of  the 
door,  but  it  remained  still  closed.  At  length  one  of  their  number 
looked  through  the  key-hole  and  there  saw  his  teacher  engaged  in 
prayer.  The  youth  was  amazed.  His  teacher  was  on  his  knees, 
his  arms  and  his  body  moving  as  if  in  some  fearful  struggle.  At 
first  he  did  not  know  what  it  meant,  but  a  second  look  disclosed 
the  facts  of  the  case.  It  was  a  sight  that  could  never  be  erased 
from  the  tablet  of  memory;  and  he  Avho  Avitnessed  this  spectacle 
was  no  doubt  much  better  (lualified  Avhen  he  entered  the  ministry 
to  teach  his  people  hoAv  to  pray. 

But  what  was  Dr.  Nevin  praying  for  l)ehind  his  desk  iiutil  the  bell 
ringing  for  recitation  should  end  his  praying?  His  Maker  and  SaA-- 
iour  only  kneAv.     He  no  doubt  prayed  for  himself  nnd  the  students, 


754  IN   RETIREMENT    FROM    1876-1886  [DlV.  XII 

that  the}'  might  receive  more  light;  but  it  is  just  as  easy  to  suppose 
that  he  was  praying  for  a  better  day  in  Zion,  when  her  conflicts" 
and  troubles  being  over  she  should  arise  and  shine,  put  on  her 
beautiful  garments,  and  become  the  praise  and  glor}^  of  the  whole 
earth. 

Dr.  Nevin  had  many  opponents  in  his  day,  but  he  had  many  more 
devoted  friends,  affectionate  pupils  and  sympathizing  brethren  in 
the  ministry.  All  through  his  life  of  toil  and  labor  he  was  made  in 
one  way  or  another  to  feel  that  he  had  around  him  those  whom  he 
could  trust  and  on  whom  he  could  rely.  The  tribute  of  respect  that 
was  paid  to  him  in  the  presentation  in  1873,  was  followed  by  another 
at  the  Commencement  in  1876,  when  he  retired  from  the  presidency 
of  the  College.  On  that  occasion  he  was  honored  with  the  gift  of  a 
superbly  bound  cop3'  of  the  Bible,  which  it  was  felt  would  be  espe- 
cially grateful  to  his  feelings.  The  presentation  was  made  in 
the  presence  of  a  large  audience  by  George  F.  Baer,  Esq.,  of 
Reading,  Pa.,  to  which  Dr.  Nevin  replied  in  his  usually  solemn  and 
interesting  style.  The  reader  can  imagine  the  substance  of  his 
response,  in  which  as  a  matter  of  course  he  took  occasion  to  speak  of 
the  grandeur  and  unspeakable  value  of  the  Bible  as  the  Word  of 
God. — He  assured  his  friends  that  down  to  the  latest  hour  of  his 
life  he  would  regard  this  copy  as  one  of  his  most  precious  treasures. 

But  while  he  held  such  special  testimonies  of  his  friends  in  the 
highest  regard,  he  valued  others,  less  demonstrative,  in  equal  esti- 
mation. From  the  year  1878  his  family  arranged  a  reception  in  his 
behalf  at  each  recurring  anniversary  of  his  birth.  On  these  occa- 
sions he  seemed  to  renew  his  youth,  as  with  his  quizzical  smile  he 
received  congratulations  from  young  and  old.  He  appeared,  how- 
ever, to  be  especially  refreshed  by  the  occasional  presence  of  minis- 
ters, alumni,  students  and  others,  who  on  their  coming  to  Lancaster 
felt  that  their  visit  would  not  be  complete  unless  they  walked  out 
to  see  Dr.  Nevin.  In  conversation  usually  some  topic  would  come 
up  in  which  he  felt  an  interest,  and  he  was  wont  to  enlarge  on  it 
until  the  monologue  assumed  the  character  of  a  lecture  on  philos- 
ophy', theology  or  religion.  After  such  interviews  with  the  old  man 
eloquent,  there  were  few  that  did  not  carry  with  them  to  their 
homes  thoughts  that  were  worth}-  of  a  place  in  the  storehouse  of 
memory. — After  Dr.  Nevin  ceased  to  preach  and  write,  his  conver- 
sational powers  seemed  to  be  very  much  enlarged.  It  was  thus  he 
let  his  light  shine  as  he  drew  near  the  close  of  his  life,  like  the  set- 
ting sun  illumining  the  floating  clouds  in  the  western  sk}'. 

During  the  last  j-ears  of  his  life  Dr.  Nevin  received  the  aftectionate 


Chap.  LIV]  the  funeral  755 

attention  of  his  family.  In  plensant  we.'itlicr,  with  Mrs.  Nevin  or 
his  daughters,  he  was  frequently  seen  in  his  carriage,  riding  over 
the  public  thoroughfares,  Init  more  particularly  on  College  Avenue, 
where  the  fresh  breezes  served  to  invigorate  his  failing  strength. 
The  grounds  around  him  were  classic  and  their  associations  of  the 
most  hallowed  character.  Ever^'body  was  pleased  to  see  him  and 
admired  his  great  vitalit}^  and  strength;  but  with  this  was  con- 
nected the  sad  feeling  that  his  end  was  hastening  apace.  After  he 
had  attended  his  last  communion  in  the  College  Chapel  he  had 
slight  attacks  of  ph\sical  weakness,  which  were  premonitorj-  of  the 
last  and  final  struggle,  when  his  great  vitality  and  strong  will-force 
succumbed  to  the  law  of  mortalit3^ 

When  out  on  the  dark  sea  in  his  last  illness,  even  during  his  un- 
conscious hours,  Christ,  the  God-man,  was  his  stay  and  support. — 
When  the  Sabbath  hours  in  June  had  passed  awa^-;  when  nature 
prefigured  the  resurrection  of  the  just;  when  patient  watchers  had 
stood  all  day  by  his  bed-side;  when  the  sun  had  set  and  the  gloom 
of  night  was  spreading  over  nature,  Init  the  stars,  like  angels'  eyes, 
began  to  shine  down  brightly'  from  above;  then — midway  between 
Ascension  Day  and  Whitsuntide — after  an  illness  of  ten  days.  Dr. 
Nevin  breathed  his  last  breath  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  on 
the  0th  of  June,  1886,  in  the.84th  year  of  his  age. — Thus  passed  away 
from  earth  a  great  and  good  man,  an  ornament  to  the  Church,  to 
his  native  State,  to  his  country,  to  his  age,  and  to  the  cause  of 
science  and  religion. 

The  funeral  took  place  on  the  Wednesday  following,  June  the  9th, 
aud  was  attended  by  a  large  coucourse  of  people.  The  evening 
trains  on  Tuesday  and  the  earl3^  trains  on  Wednesday  brought 
many  visitors  from  a  distance,  including  a  large  number  of  the 
Reformed  clergy.  Trustees  of  the  College  and  Seminar^',  old  stu- 
dents and  others.  Among  those  who  came  to  honor  the  memory 
of  the  deceased  was  Rev.  Dr.  Archibald  Alexander  Hodge,  repre- 
senting the  Theological  Seminary  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  at 
Princeton,  N.  J.,  one  of  the  leading  thinkers  of  his  denomination,  a 
l)ersonal  friend  and  admirer  of  Dr.  Nevin,  and  son  of  tlie  elder 
Ilodge  witli  wlioin  the  deceased  held  an  earnest  theological  contro- 
versy during  his  lifetime. 

The  funeral  services  weie  held  in  tiie  College  Chai)i'l,  in  which 
Dr.  C.  F.  McCauley,  Dr.  Jacob  O.  Miller,  Dr.  Benjamin  Bausman, 
Dr.  Thomas  G.  Appel,  Dr.  John  S.  Stahr,  of  Lancaster,  Pa.,  and 
Dr.  A.  A.  Hodge,  of  Princeton,  N.  J.,  took  part.  Miss  Janie 
Zacharias,  of  Baltimore,  presided  at  the  organ.     The  simi)le  Burial 


756  IN   RETIREMENT    FROM   1876-1886  [DiV.  XII 

Service  of  the  Church  used  on  this  occasion  never  seemed  to  be 
more  beautiful,  appropriate  or  expressive,  than  when  read  in  a 
place  endeared  by  so  many  associations  and  to  an  audience  so  closely 
knit  in  a  common  sorrow. — Dr.  Thomas  G.  Appel,  who  delivered 
an  appropriate  funeral  discourse,  selected  as  his  text  the  words  of 
Christ:  "Jesus  said  unto  her,  I  am  the  resurrection,  and  the  life; 
he  that  believeth  in  Me,  though  he  were  dead,3'et  shall  he  live;  and 
whosoever  liveth,  and  believeth  in  Me,  shall  never  die,"  John  XI: 
25,  26.  Below  we  give  his  concluding  remarks,  together  with  those 
of  Dr.  Hodge. 

Forty-one  years  ago  he  whose  lips  are  now  mute  in  death,  uttered 
these  words  in  a  baccalaureate  address  to  the  graduating  class  in 
Mashall  College:  "Christ  is  the  truth  on  which  all  other  truths 
rest;  more  sure  and  certain  than  au}^  or  all,  as  seen  apart  from  His 
person  *  *  *  Let  Him  be  the  star  3'ou  follow  through  life;  the 
sun  in  the  firmament  of  your  existence.  When  far  out  upon  the 
deep,  surrounded  with  midnight  and  tossed  by  winds  and  waves, 
remember  Him  on  the  sea  of  Galilee.  When  the  world  is  found  to 
fade  and  wither,  and  life  seems  turning  to  an  arid  sand-waste,  think 
of  Him  as  He  stood  by  the  grave  of  Lazarus,  or  showed  Himself  to 
Mary  on  the  morning  of  His  own  resurrection.  When  confusion 
and  contradiction  make  themselves  felt  on  every  side,  and  all  that 
has  been  counted  solid  seems  ready  to  give  way;  when  the  counsel 
of  the  wise  and  prudent  fails,  and  the  hands  of  the  might}'  become 
weak;  when  reason  is  confounded,  and  science  falls  into  inextrica- 
ble embarrassment ;  when  clouds  and  darkness  cover  the  heavens 
with  a  thick  pall,  and  the  soul  recoils  aghast  from'  the  yawning 
abyss  of  its  own  nature;  when  every  other  confidence  breaks,  and 
truth  itself  in  every  other  form  is  converted  into  blank  despair, 
then  turn  to  Him,  with  Peter,  and  say,  prostrate  at  His  feet, '  Lord, 
to  whom  shall  we  go?  Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life,  and  we 
believe  and  are  sure  that  Thou  art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  li-\  ing 
God.'" 

The  eleventh  chapter  of  St.  John,  containing  the  record  of  the 
raising  of  Lazarus,  was  one  of  the  last,  if  not  the  last  chapter  of 
scripture  that  was  read  to  him  in  his  illness,  shortl}'  before  his 
death,  by  a  beloved  daughter. 

May  we  not  believe  that  the  words  of  our  Lord  in  that  passage, 
which  we  have  made  the  basis  of  our  remarks  at  this  time,  con- 
tinued in  his  inner  consciousness  when  his  outward  senses  were 
closed  to  earth,  and  supported  his  faith  in  passing  through  the 


CiiAP.  LIV]  DR.  hodge's  remarks  757 

valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  ?  On  the  hallowed  day  of  rest,  as  the 
light  of  the  earthly  Sabbath  faded  away,  he  passed  peacefully  into 
his  heavenl}'  rest.  Ma^-  he  I'est  in  peace  with  those  who  have  gone 
before,  '*  until  both  they  and  we  shall  reach  our  common  consum- 
mation of  redemption  and  bliss  in  the  glorious  resurrection  of  the 
last  day!"     Amen. 

At  the  conclusion  of  his  sermon  Dr.  Appel  introduced  Rev.  Dr. 
Ilodge  to  the  audience,  as  a  friend  of  the  deceased  and  a  representa- 
tive of  the  Princeton  institutions. 

Dr.  TTodge  said  he  was  not  prepared  to  make  an  address  befitting 
the  solemnity  and  significance  of  this  occasion  ;  but  had  come  hither 
simply  as  a  representative  of  Princeton  Theological  Seminary, and, 
as  he  believed,  of  the  entire  Presbyterian  Church,  to  express  their 
sympathy  with  those  assembled  at  the  loss  of  their  great  theologian, 
the  friend  of  the  speaker's  dead  father.  It  was  undeniable  that  Dr. 
Nevin  belonged  to  the  Reformed  Church;  he  lived  and  died  in  it; 
he  was  the  exponent  of  that  Church  and  of  its  institutions;  but  it 
was  always  gratefully  remembered  by  the  Presbyterians  that  he 
was  of  Scotch-Irish  blood,  born  in  their  Church  and  educated  in 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary,  illustrious  in  its  line.  For  many 
3-ears  he  was  a  distinguished  member  of  the  Presb3'terian  Church; 
he  was  too  great  for  any  one  denomination  to  lay  claim  to  him. 
The  Presbyterian  Church  regarded  him  as  one  of  the  few  great 
theologians  and  thinkers  of  America,  and  everywhere  he  was  ranked 
as  one  of  the  greatest  three  or  four  citizens  whom  the  great  state 
of  Pennsylvania  had  produced. 

Dr.  Ilodge,  the  elder,  was  only  four  3-ears  older  than  Dr.  Nevin. 
Between  them  was  the  sincerest  affection,  and  he  always  regarded 
him  as  the  greatest  of  his  pupils.  Sixty  jears  ago  when  Dr.  Hodge 
went  to  Europe  Dr.  Nevin  acted  as  his  substitute  in  the  Facult}', 
and  the  speaker  well  remembered  sitting  on  his  lap  and  listening 
to  his  words  of  profound  wisdom  and  eloquence. 

Between  these  two  men  a  loving  friendship  ever  existed;  and 
though  their  ways  separated  and  serious  divergence  threatened, 
both  recognized  the  primacy  of  the  Christo-centric  doctrine  which 
was  the  basis  of  Dr.  Nevin's  teaching  and  thinking.  Their  differ- 
ences wei'e  accidental ;  their  unit}'  essential. 

In  conclusion  feeling  reference  was  made  to  the  continued  friend- 
ship of  these  two  great  divines,  and  to  their  meeting  late  in  life, 
when  Dr.  Ilodge  came  here  to  visit  his  beloved  contemporary.  The 
Professor  renewed  his  expression  of  the  tender  sympathy  of  his  col- 


158  IN   RETIREMENT    FROM    1876-1886  [DiV.  XII 

leagues  and  of  all  Presbyterianism,  and  their  desire  to  do  common 
honor  to  their  common  friend. 

After  the  conclusion  of  the  services  in  the  Chapel  the  entire 
audience  came  forward  to  the  chancel  and  impressed  on  their  memory 
the  lineaments  of  the  great  man  that  had  just  fallen  asleep  in  Israel. 
His  countenance  seemed  to  beam  with  peaceful  serenit}-,  and  his 
noble  head  and  brow,  with  the  strong  features  on  which  beauty  still 
lingered  as  he  lay  in  the  majestic  dignity  of  death,  seemed  chiselled 
in  purest  alabaster.  Doubtless  the  question  arose  in  the  minds  of 
man3'  as  they  passed  by  his  casket.  Can  this  be  death  ? 

Death  upon  his  face 
Was  rather  shine  than  shade  ; 
A  tender  shine  by  looks  beloved  made. 

He  was  buried  in  Woodward  Hill  Cemeterj-,  on  an  elevated  spot, 
commanding  a  fine  view  of  the  city  and  county  of  Lancaster,  where 
the  funeral  service  was  concluded,  in  which  Dr.  E.  E.  Higbee,  Dr. 
Thomas  G.  Appel,  Dr.  Eli  Keller  and  Dr.  Theodore  Appel  partic- 
ipated.— The  honorary  pall  bearers  consisted  of  John  C.  Hager,  N. 
Ellmaker,  Rev.  Charles  L.  Fry  of  the  Lutheran  Church ;  Dr.  J.  Y. 
Mitchell  of  the  Presbyterian ;  Dr.  J.  Max  Hark  of  the  Moravian ; 
and  of  the  Professors,  Drs.  J.  H.  Dubbs,  J.  B.  Kieffer  and  F.  A. 
Oast. — Just  as  the  service  at  the  grave  was  coming  to  its  close, 
sympathizing  nature  let  fall  a  gentle  shower  of  rain,  which  de- 
scended softly  as  her  benediction,  on  the  committing  of  the  body 
to  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  looking  for  the  general  resurrection  in 
the  last  day,  and  the  life  of  the  world  to  come;  through  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord.     Amen. 

The  death  of  Dr.  Nevin  made  a  profound  impression  in  the  com- 
munit}"  and  throughout  the  Church.  Memorial  services  were  held 
in  various  congregations;  the  Classes  at  their  annual  meetings  put 
on  record  their  sense  of  Dr.  Nevin's  great  usefulness  in  the  Church; 
and  several  of  the  Synods  in  the  fall  appointed  special  commemora- 
tive services  at  which  interesting  addresses  were  delivered  by  min- 
isterial brethren  in  memory  of  the  great  man  who  had  fallen  in 
Israel. 

At  the  Commencement  of  Franklin  and  Marshall  College,  during 
the  week  following  the  funeral  of  Dr.  Nevin,  a  profound  feeling  per- 
vaded the  minds  of  those  who  were  present,  Trustees,  Alumni,  stu- 
dents, and  of  who  had  in  any  way  become  interested  in  the  College. 
The  Alumni  Association  at  the  time  had  in  contemplation  the  ob- 


ClIAl'.    IJV]  THIHl  TK    OF    RESPECT  759 

servance  of  the  centennial  celebration  of  the  foundino;  of  Franklin 
College  at  T^ancaster  in  188T  and  the  semi-centennial  of  the  founding 
of  Marsliall  rolh'ge  at  Mercersl)urg  in  1837,  and  the  recent  death  of 
Dr.  Xe\in  imparted  to  thi'  movement  a  health}',  practical  direction. 
Measures  were  initiated  to  give  a  new  impulse  to  all  the  operations 
of  tlie  College,  and  among  other  things,  the  endowment  of  the  Pres- 
idency of  the  Institution  with  a  fund  of  not  less  than  $30,000,  as  a 
suitable  tribnte  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  Dr.  Nevin,  together 
with  the  i)reparation  of  the  present  volume  of  his  Life  and  Work. 
15oth  of  these  objects,  through  the  raerc}'  and  goodness  of  the 
Father  of  all,  have  been  consummated  during  the  present  3'ear, 
1880. — At  this  same  Commencement  of  1886,  the  Daniel  Scholl 
Observatory*  was  dedicated  and  an  address  delivered  by  Prof.  C. 
A.  Young  of  Princeton  College.  The  building,  with  its  valuable 
instruments,  Avas  the  gift  of  Mrs.  James  M.  Hood,  daughter  of  Mr. 
Daniel  Scholl  of  Frederick,  Md.,in  honor  of  her  father's  memory, 
for  which  she  made  the  generous  donation  of  $15,000. 

During  this  same  year  a  third  monument  has  lieen  erected  to  the 
memory  of  Dr.  Xevin,  which  confronts  those  who  enter  the  College 
Cliapel.  It  is  a  window  of  stained  glass,  erected  "To  the  glory  of 
God,  Amen  ;  and  in  loving  memory  of  John  Williamson  Nevin," 
and  represents  St.  John,  the  Apostle,  with  his  attributes,  an  eagle, 
a  book,  and  a  chalice,  with  his  ke\'-note  text:  "In  the  beginning 
was  the  Word,  and  the  Word  was  with  God,  and  the  Word  was 
God."  In  harmony  of  coloring  and  in  artistic  workmanship,  it  will 
be  a  training  in  true  beauty  to  the  young  who  daily  gather  there, 
and  a  fitting  tribute  to  one  whose  memor}'  will  be  more  enduring 
than  brass. 

The  following  graceful  Elegy,  prepared  at  the  author's  request  for 
this  volume,  was  composed  by  Rev.  R.  C.  Schiedt,  a  foreign  Ger- 
man, formerly  student  of  Berlin  University,  but  at  present  Pro- 
fessor in  Franklin  and  Marshall  College. 

IN    OBITUM   JOANNIS   W.   NEVIN  I 

Ille,  decus  nostrum,  Musaiiini  cura,  Nevinus 
Occidit.     lieu,  fallax  et  Itreve  vita  ])onnm  ! 

Occidit.  hen  !  nostri  (jui  gloria  temporis  ingens 
Multorunupie  suis  dotibus  instar  erat. 

Nunc  quid  ego  summas  tot  in  uno  pectore  dotes 
Facta  quid  a'terna  laude  vehenda  canam? 


T60  IN    RETIREMENT    FROM    1876-1886  [DiV.  XII 

Qua?  men  si  vellet  digiio  eomprendere  versa, 

Deljilitatnrum  musa  subiret  onus. 
Nil  illi  facilis  natura  negaverat  uni, 

Et  dederat  largas,  more  parentis,  opes. 
Fervidus  bine  aiiimi  vigor  et  qiite  liquit  inausum 

Divitis  ingenii  vis  operosa  uibiL 
Et,  velut  primum  sine  nomine  rivus 

Per  viridem  tenui  murmure  serpit  bumum  ; 
Mox  magis  atque  magis  labendo  viribus  auctus 

Communes  populis  sufRcit  uber  aquas. 
Sic  artes  crevere  bona?,  sua  gloria  crevit, 

Adjecitque  aliquid  proxima  qua'que  dies. 
Hunc  puerum  vix  linquentem  cunabula,  Musse 

Certatim  donis  excoluere  suis. 
Testis  fortunata  Pennsylvania  nobis, 

Mille  potestates,  nomina  mille  doceut. 
Hie  fuit ;  bic  studuit;  puer  boc  in  cespite  lusit : 

Hie  pater,  bic  genetrix,  bic  babitavit  avus. 
Illic  cognatus,  cujus  cognomen  babebat, 

Vagiit,  illustri  sanguine  natus  eques  : 
Hie  Scotus,  quern  fama  vebet  plaudentibus  alis, 

Leges  per  terras  donee  Americai  erunt. 
Testes  sunt  Collegia,  quorum  est  dignus  alumnus, 

Et  Graiffi  et  Latise  gloria  summa  lyrte. 
Namque  brevi  spatio  linguam  cognorat  utramque; 

Cum  libuit,  culte  doetus  utraque  loqui. 
Addiderat  Solymse  jam  dulcia  munera  linguae; 

Nee  minus  bis  judex  de  tribus  acer  erat. 
Altera  tum  rerum  varias  ediscere  caussas 

Et  qutiecumque  latent  abdita,  cura  fuit. 
Sed  magis  auctorem  cognoscere  juvit  et  ingens 

Esse  Deum,  mundi  qui  regit  bujus  opus; 
Ergo  Creatorem  proprius  rerumque  Parentera 

Cernere,  non  dubii  pectoris  ardor  erat. 
Doctriufeque  pio  cailestis  amore  calebat: 

Numen  adorans  spe,  Cbriste  benigne,  tuura. 
Sic  igitur  vivens,  sic,0  divine  Nevine, 

Coepisti  ingenii  spargere  dona  tui. 
Longius  et  cultor  Sopbite  digressus  in  bortos, 

Florida  de  lauro  serta  virente  feris: 
Nos  omnes  debere  tibi  genioque  fotemur 

Omnia,  quie  pietas  suadet  amorque,  tuo. 
Testis  Mercersburgensis  Scbola,  montium  Atbenje. 

Testes  discipuli,  gloria  gentis  nova?. 
Tu  prjiecepta  Dei  pandens  arcana,  docebas, 

Gaudeat  ut  pura  mente  fideque  coli. 
Censor  et  auctor  eras  illustris^,  acumine  prjestans, 

Judicii  egregia  dexteritate  tui. 
Jamque  poposcit  opem  dubiis  ecclesia  rebus, 

En  I  sine  te  nullum,  qni  tueatur  babet. 


Chap.  LIY]  tribute  of  respect  7G1 

Nee  minus  et  duro  adversarnm  tempore  rerum 

Mansisti  gratis  ofiicio  usque  tuo. 
Servasti  insanis  puppim,  bone  rector,  ex  undis 

Minante  interitu  jam  pietate  falsa. 
Utque  tui  Cliristum  cognoseant  discipulique 

Assumis  longi  grande  laboris  onus; 
Nam  Pater  omnipotens  et  lucida  patris  Imago 

Xatus  et  amborum  gratia  dulcis  Amor, 
Duleis  Amor,  divinaque  potens  hominumque  voluptas 

Hie  regit  afflatu  pectora  casta  tua. 
Non  levis  ambitio  non  impius  ardor  habendi 

Nullus  in  elato  pectore  fastus  erat, 
Provida  sed  virtus  et  flore  nitentior  omni 

Candor  et  innocua  cum  pietate  fldes. — 
Scilicet  ha?c  tecum  dura;  solatia  mortis 

Aflers  ad  Elysiumque  nemus, 
Nee  decet  aut  fas  est  nos  ilium  Here  sepultum 

Amplius,  et  lacrimis  ponere  anoUe  modum, 
Ille  quidem  dulces  auras  et  amata  reliquit 

Lumina  sub  gelida  contumulatus  humo. 
Fama  tamen  superest,  et  totum  nota  per  orbem 

Gloria,  Castalia  quam  peperere  deae. 
Nee  tua  longa  dies  delebit  scripta,  Nevine ! 

Juris  in  ingenium  mors  habet  atra  nihil. 
At  tu,  Christe,  novae  qui  nobis  gaudia  vitae 

Reddis,  et  in  supera  das  regione  locum 
Huic  abeunti  animre  placidam  largire  quietem 

Ne  mihi  sit  pretium  mortis  inane  tu£e. 
Quern  liquor  ille,  tuo  stillans  e  vulnere  sancto 

Abluat,  hos  aestus,  banc  levet  ille  sitim ! 
Hospitium  tu,  Christe,  humilis  ne  despice  cordis, 

Dulce  tibi  soli  vivere,  dulce  mori. 
Corpus  et  in  cineres  cum  longa  redegerit  aetas, 

Tivet,  et  a?tatis  fama  secpientis  erit. 
Sidera  nunc  illic  fulgentis  semper  Olympi 

Cunctaque  cognoscit,  quje  latuere  prius, 
Progeniemque  Dei  majestatemque  verendam 

Adspicit  et  sanctos  inter  adorat  avos. 
Salve,  magne  parens,  alti  nunc  jetheris  hteres. 

Et  fruere  wternis,  quse  tibi  parta,  bonis. 
Terra  tuum  violis  ornet  lauroque  sepulchrum, 

Floreat  feternis  urna  beata  rosis. 
Ossaque  tranquilla  semper  tua  sede  quiescant 

Semper  doctrina?  ad  vox  tua  vivat  aquas. 
Interea  laudesque  tuas  nomenque  canamus; 

Tu  modo  da  dulci,  Christe,  quiete  frui! 


48 


CHAPTER  LV 

WE  here  furnish  the  reader  with  a  few  letters  of  Dr.  Nevin, 
written  to  friends  in  severe  affliction.  They  exhibit  his  ten- 
derness of  feeling  in  an  interesting  light,  and  show  how  he  could 
sympathize  with  others  in  their  sorrows.  The  first  was  addressed 
to  Mr.  Besore,  merchant  of  Waynesboro,  Pa.,  a  prominent  elder  in 
the  Reformed  Church,  and  always  active  in  promoting  its  general 
interests.  Late  in  life  he  was  favored  with  two  lovely  children,  a 
daughter  and  a  little  son.  The  latter  took  sick  and  died,  which  ex- 
cited general  sympathy  in  the  community. 

To  Mr.  George  Besore. 

Mercersburg,  Dec.  29,  1848. 
My  Dear  Sir: — I  felt  sad  on  seeing  not  long  since  the  announce- 
ment of  the  sad  bereavement  which  has  fallen  upon  you  in  the  loss 
of  your  oul}^  son.  Sickness  was  at  work  in  m}^  own  family  at  the 
time,  and  as  I  looked  round  upon  my  eight  children,  and  thought 
how  hard  it  would  be  to  lose  one,  I  could  not  but  enter  with  lively' 
sympathy  into  the  sense  of  a  still  more  overwhelming  desolation 
that  must  attend  yowr  case  as  called  to  mourn  over  the  loss  of  an 
only  son.  I  can  well  conceive  how  much  of  affection  and  hope 
had  been  garnered  up  in  the  life  of  j^our  promising  boy,  and 
how  many  fond  dreams  of  future  usefulness  and  honor  were 
made  to  centre  in  his  person.  You  had  received  him  with  pecu- 
liar joy  as  a  signal  blessing  from  the  hand  of  God,  and  j'ou 
pleased  yourself  with  the  thought  of  training  him  up  with  a  full 
Christian  education  for  the  promotion  of  God's  glory  in  the 
world  in  time  to  come.  But  it  has  pleased  our  Heavenly  Father 
suddenly  and  without  explanation  to  withdraw  His  own  gift.  Your 
hopes  lie  buried  in  the  grave,  where  now  sleeps  the  remains  of  your 
beloved  child,  in  prospect  of  the  i-esurrection  at  the  last  da}^;  and 
3"OU  sit  in  spirit  as  one  clothed  with  sackcloth  and  ashes,  whose 
senses  have  been  well  nigh  stunned  by  the  blow  which  has  fallen 
upon  him  from  the  hand  of  the  Almighty.  Truly,  it  is  a  terrible 
stroke,  and  you  and  your  wife  both  need  special  grace,  to  receive  it 
with  becoming  submission.  This  I  trust  has  not  been  withheld. 
It  is  much  to  know,  that  while  God  acts  in  such  a  case  without 
explanation.  He  still  never  acts  without  reason,  and  it  is  still  more, 
to  be  firmly  assured  by  faith  that  His  actions  ai'e  ruled  always  by 
.righteousness  and  love.     *'  He  doth  not  willingly  afflict  an}-  of  the 

(762) 


Chap.  LV]  letters  of  condolence  763 

sons  of  men."  He  is  able,  moreover,  in  ways  which  yon  cannot  now 
nnderstand,  to  turn  this  bereavement  to  jour  benefit  and  His  own 
glory,  bej'ond  all  that  might  have  resulted  from  the  life  of  your  son, 
had  he  been  continued  with  3'ou  according  to  your  desire. 

I  write  just  now  as  one  well  prepared  to  "weep  with  them  that 
weep,"  for  the  corpse  of  my  own  youngest  child  is  sleeping  in  its  lit- 
tle coffin  close  at  hand,  and  I  expect  to  follow  it  in  a  few  hours  this 
stormy  day  to  its  last  resting  place  in  our  College  Cemetery-.  We 
have  had  six  cases  of  measles  among  us  latterly,  all  of  which  have 
ended  favorabl}-  with  the  exception  of  the  last,  that  of  our  sweet 
babe,  now  nearly  arrived  at  the  end  of  his  first  year,  whose  fine 
vigorous  constitution  seemed  more  likely  to  bring  him  safelj- 
through  than  that  of  any  of  our  children  besides.  But  he  was  at 
the  same  time  in  the  severe  process  of  teething;  and  the  combined 
disorders  proved  too  strong  for  his  tender  strength.  He  became 
affected  in  his  brain,  and  finally  has  breathed  out  his  soul  into  his 
Maker's  hands;  last  come,  awd  Jli'sf  gone  of  the  little  circle  of  love 
to  which  he  belonged.  And  now  of  course  I  can  understand  your 
sorrow  still  better  than  before,  and  am  prepared  to  extend  to  30U 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  the  sj-mpath}'  which  is  all  in  such  a 
case  that  human  friendship  can  extend.  May  our  merciful  and  com- 
passionate High  Priest  enrich  3'ou  with  His  own  "grace, mercy  and 
peace,"  a  more  substantial  benefit  than  all  worldl}^  blessings  besides. 
With  kind  regards  to  Mrs.  Besore, 

Your  affectionate  friend, 

J.  AY.  XEYIN. 


To  Dr.  J.  C.  Bucher,  on  the  sudden  death  of  his  two  sons  on  the 
4th  of  July,  1876. 

Caernarvon  Place,  Jul^-  9,  1876. 
My  Dear  Brother: — On  hearing  of  3-our  great  afUiction  I  felt 
the  full  force  of  what  is  said  of  Job's  three  friends  (Job  ii :  12,  13); 
and  even  yet  it  seems  as  if  the  case  called  for  the  sympath}^  of  sit- 
ting on  the  ground  with  3'Ou  in  silence  rather  than  the  condolence 
of  mere  human  speech.  There  is  something  sacred  in  such  a  sor- 
row, which  of  itself  turns  into  commonplace  all  ordinar3'  words  of 
comfort.  And  yet  the  case  goes  of  itself  again  in  this  view  to  the 
onl3'  true  foundation  of  support  aud  relief  be3'ond  what  is  common 
with  lighter  trials ;  for  it  needs  no  argument  other  than  itself  to 
enforce  what  all  our  trials  are  designed  to  teach,  namelv  :  the  one 
great  lesson  wliich  we  are  so  slow  to  learn,  that  all  our  springs  are 
in  God  and  that  in  ourselves  we  are  literall3'  nothing.     Such  an 


764  LETTERS    or    CONDOLENCE  [DiV.  XII 

overwhelming  calamity  as  that  which  has  now  come  upon  your 
house,  must  make  it  easier  for  you  to  realize  this  truth  just  now 
than  perhaps  ever  in  your  life  before.  If  so,  it  has  not  come  upon 
you  in  vain.  If  so,  it  will  not  need  any  motive  of  consolation  from 
beyond  itself  to  reconcile  you  to  its  stroke.  For  what  consolation 
can  exceed  the  assurance  that  you.  are  the  object  of  God's  fatherly 
regard  in  what  has  come  upon  you,  and  that  this  regard,  most  as- 
suredly, is  directed  to  nothing  less  than  the  everlasting  salvation 
of  3'ourself,  and  all  your  house.  That  is  the  comfort  of  God's 
Providence  universally^,  as  it  is  so  beautifully  set  forth  in  our  Cat- 
echism; and  any  chastisement,  however  sharp  or  grievous,  that  ma}^ 
help  us  to  the  full  sense  of  it,  must  be  counted  as  the  greatest  of 
blessings  in  disguise.  So  true  is  the  word,  "  Blessed  is  the  man 
that  endureth  temptation,  for  when  he  is  tried  he  shall  receive  the 
crown  of  life  which  the  Lord  hath  promised  to  them  that  love  him." 
What  we  need  of  all  things  in  our  religious  life  is  full  ftiith  in  the 
Bible  as  the  Word  of  God,  and  full  belief  in  Divine  Providence; 
by  which  I  mean  a  full  persuasion  that. Christ,  the  Lord  of  life  and 
glory,  is  actuall}'  in  His  Word  from  Alpha  to  Omega,  and  actually 
in  His  Providence  also  to  the  end  of  the  world  ;  and  in  both  with 
full  living  presence  for  one  and  the  same  end,  namely,  "not  to  con- 
demn the  world  but  that  the  world  through  Him  might  believe." 
Few  in  the  Christian  w^orld  at  this  time  believe  practically  either 
of  the  two  mysteries  ;  verif^'ing  thus  the  force  of  our  Saviour's  in- 
terrogation :  When  the  Son  of  man  cometh  shall  He  find  faith  on 
the  earth  ?  What  the  ark  of  the  covenant  was  for  the  Old  Testa- 
ment Israel,  that  the  Bible  as  the  Word  of  God  is  for  the  Church 
still,  the  place  of  actual  coming  together,  or  meeting  of  Christ  and 
His  people ;  and  what  the  pillar  of  fire  was  before  the  Israelites  of 
old,  that  the  Providence  of  Christ  is  still  for  His  Church,  a  true 
heavenl}'  conduct,  which  from  first  to  last  is  ruled  hy  infinite  wis- 
dom and  love,  and  which  in  all  things  is  determined  only  toward 
one  end,  the  eternal  well-being  of  man,  as  this  is  the  universal  scope 
also  of  the  Gospel.  In  all  our  sorrows,  let  us  labor  to  take  firm 
hold  of  this  anchor  of  the  soul,  which  alone  is  sure  and  steadfast, 
entering  as  it  does  within  the  veil. 

Mrs.  Nevin  joins  me  in  this  communication.  She  has  been  much 
aftected,  as  we  all  have  been,  with  the  teachings  of  your  calamit3\ 
Ma}^  God  bless  you  and  your  remaining  family,  and  preserve  3'ou 
all  unto  His  everlasting  kingdom. 

Your  very  sincere  friend, 

J.  W.  NEVIN. 


Chap.  LV]  letters  of  condolence  765 

To  Mrs.  Alexander  Brouni,  sister  of  Dr.  Xevin,  on  the  death  of 
her  son,  Maltheio  Brown. 
My  Deah  Sister: — We  all  mourn  with  \'ou  in  the  heavj'  sorrow' 
which  has  come  upon  your  house.  It  is  sad  to  think  of  the  solemn 
shadow  that  has  thus  flung  itself  across  your  path.  But  I  have 
come  to  look  at  death  less  in  this  wa}'  than  it  is  commonly  sup- 
posed to  mean.  It  is  only  a  stage  in  the  progress  of  the  life  we 
have  begun  here,  and  where  this  has  been  at  all  in  the  right  direc- 
tion, the  change  will  form  no  interruption  or  break  in  its  course. 
AVe  should  think  of  our  children,  who  have  gone  before  us  (obeying 
in  the  Lord),  as  not  dead  at  all  in  any  sense  suggested  by  the  coffin 
and  the  grave,  but  as  actually  alive  with  all  the  will  and  powers 
the}'  had  here.  Only  in  fuller  measure  and  degree,  they  see,  hear, 
speak,  and  act  in  all  manner  of  wa3'S,  in  that  spiritual  world  where 
they  are,  with  an  enlargement  and  freedom  of  existence  fiir  beyond 
all  that  belongs  to  us  who  are  still  here  in  the  natural  body.  Of  this 
I  feel  very  sure  and  I  am  sure,  too,  that  all  good  begun  here  in  any 
life  will  have  the  opportunity  of  growing  towai'd  perfection  there, 
under  the  auspices  of  Christ  and  His  angels;  beyond  all  that  any 
such  life  could  have  enjo3-ed  by  continuing  longer  in  the  present 
world.  So  much,  in  truth,  lies  in  the  idea  of  God's  Providence, 
which  is  governed  everywhere  b}'  a  regard  to  the  eternal  salvation 
of  men,  and  cannot,  therefore,  possibly'  be  indifferent  to  this  in 
what  is  brought  to  pass  through  their  death.  Looking  at  the  case 
in  this  wa3%  you  have  great  cause  for  consolation  in  your  present 
l)ereavement.  Your  son  has  been  taken  away  from  much  evil  he 
might  have  had  to  meet  otherwise  in  this  world.  He  has  been 
taken  away  with  a  well  formed  habit  of  piety  (the  fear  of  God  and 
a  humble  regard  for  His  commandments),  established  in  his  soul 
from  early  childhood.  The  removal  has  been  by  the  hand  of  One 
whose  interest  in  his  welfiare  immeasurably  exceeds  yours,  and  is 
designed  unquestionably  to  carr^^  out  and  complete  what  the  grace 
of  the  Gospel  had  l)egun  to  expect  in  him  before  he  was  thus  called 
away.  The  great  thing  for  you  is  to  be  well  persuaded  of  the  real- 
ness  of  the  spiritual  world  (which  few  in  our  time  think  of  as  other 
than  a  shadow),  and  thus  to  believe  firmly  that  Divine  Providence 
is  no  fiction,  a  rare  belief  now  even  in  the  Church.  God's  Provi- 
dence eyes  every  where  the  eternal  salvation  of  the  children  of  men. 
We  believe  in  it  only  as  we  see  in  it  that  meaning.  You  should  see 
it  to  mean  this  in  the  case  of  3'our  jiresent  trial.  It  means  this  for 
your  dear  sou,  who  has  now  passed  out  of  your  sight ;  but  it  means 
this  also  for  vourself.  and  the  familv  who  share  witli  vou   in   this 


766 


LETTERS   OF   CONDOLENCE 


[Div.  XII 


bereavement.  It  is  designed  and  adapted  hy  the  infinite  mercj^  of 
the  Lord  to  promote  the  eternal  salvation  of  all  your  house.  May 
you  all  so  understand  it,  and  so  fall  in  with  it  that  the  chastisement 
shall  be  found  working  in  3'ou  the  peaceable  fruit  of  righteousness 
unto  everlasting  life.  Your  affectionate  brother, 

J.  W.  NEYIK 
Caernarvon  Place,  June  4th,  1876. 


/^K/jl.   —    Xv/•^  / 


2juy^  . 


/■ 


k/LTlA 


Notes  op  a  remarkable  sermon  preached  by  Dr.  Nevin  in  the  College 
Chapel  in  the  year  1876,  found  in  the  pulpit  Bible  and  preserved  by  a  young 
friend. — The  Text  may  be  found  in  the  Gospel  of  St.  John. 


Chap.  LV]  concludtng  remarks  767 

Having  arrived  at  the  conclusion  of  bis  labors,  the  author  deems 
it  proper  in  this  place  to  say  a  few  words  in  regard  to  his  long  jour- 
ney.— It  was  with  a  considerable  degree  of  hesitation  that  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  comply  with  the  request  of  his  fellow-alumni  to  pre- 
pare the  present  volume  for  publication.  But  this  seemed  to  be  their 
unanimous  wish  as  well  as  that  of  a  large  circle  of  Dr.  Nevin's 
friends.  He  was,  moreover,  encouraged  by  Dr.  Philip  Schaff",  his 
former  teacher  and  colleague,  who,  at  the  commencement  of  the 
College  in  1886,  told  him  to  devote  at  least  two  3'ears  to  the  task. 
This  he  regarded  as  wise  counsel. — From  the  start  it  was  evident 
that  such  a  work  would  be  attended  with  difficulties  of  no  ordinar}' 
character.  In  the  ver^-  beginning  it  was  first  necessary  to  ascer- 
tain some  principle  which  might  serve  as  a  guide  in  the  composi- 
tion of  the  book.  There  was  a  large  amount  of  materials  on  hand, 
but  how  was  he  to  reduce  them  to  order  and  the  necessary  consis- 
tency'? To  find  the  thread  which  was  to  lead  him  through  such  a 
vast  labyrinth,  he  examined  man}'  biographies  of  great  men  from 
Plutarch's  Lives  down  to  the  present  time.  At  length  he  took  up 
Neander's  Geist  des  Tertullians,and  there  he  found,  as  he  thought, 
just  what  he  was  in  search  of.  In  the  Preface  to  his  immortal  work, 
the  great  historian  has  given  his  reader  in  a  few  words  the  theory 
according  to  which  he  believed  that  the  history  of  a  Sajne^is  teres 
atque  rotundus  ought  to  be  written. 

"  Many  persons,"  says  Neander,  "  with  a  different  conception  of 
the  historic  art  from  my  own  and  of  what  is  required  to  present  a 
truthful  picture  of  a  man,  will,  perhaps,  fail  here  and  there  to  see 
the  truth  in  the  present  historical  representation.  To  such  it  may 
appear  that  I  have  not  held  up  sufficiently  to  view  the  foreign  ex- 
crescences, the  baroque,  or  the  abnormal  in  TertuUian's  Life.  The 
office  of  the  historian,  however,  as  I  regard  it,  like  that  of  the 
painter,  is  to  let  the  soul  of  a  man,  the  animating  idea  of  his  physi- 
ognomy, stand  out  in  prominent  outlines.  It  is  only  in  this  way 
that  we  can  i)roperly  understand  what  in  his  character  is  of  the 
nature  of  caricature,  which  always  tends  to  obscure  the  soul  and 
idea  of  the  man  himself.  The  latter  is  something  of  subordinate 
account  and  not  the  chief  matter.  The  loft}*  mission  of  the  histo- 
rian is  to  recognize  the  divine  impress  in  outward  appearance  and 
to  develop  this  out  of  its  temporary  obscuration  ;  this  alone  can 
be  the  lofty  mission  and  aim  of  the  historian,  without  which  it  is 
not  worth  the  while  to  attempt  to  write  history  at  all.  "Who  thinks 
otherwise  on  the  subject,  him  I  allow  to  entertain  his  own  opinion." 

Dr.  Xevin  was  much  less  one-sided  than  Teilullian.  whilst  ho  was 


768  CONCLUDING   REMARKS  [DiV.  XII 

his  superior  in  intellectual  and  spiritual  endowments.  He  was  in  a 
certain  respect  many-sided,  which  led  him  to  appear  under  various 
aspects,  that  did  not  at  the  time  seem  to  be  in  harmony  with  each 
other.  In  the  warmth  of  controversy  he  often  found  it  necessary 
to  employ  strong  language  or  strong  expressions,  which  led  to 
wrong  impressions  or  the  appearance  of  having  said  more  than  he 
intended  to  say.  As  an  humble  disciple  of  the  great  historian,  the 
author  sought  throughout  to  employ  his  principle  and  depict  the 
spirit  of  Dr.  Nevin  as  it  appears  in  his  life  and  writings.  In  this 
way  he  found  his  labors  very  much  diminished,  as  it  remained  to 
select  only  such  material  as  seem  to  have  a  more  immediate  refer- 
ence to  the  object  which  he  had  in  view,  whilst  the  balance  was  left 
behind  in  the  quarry.  As  in  Neander's  monograph  the  quotations, 
after  having  been  selected  with  care,  had  to  be  very  extensive,  be- 
cause it  is  always  best  to  let  a  person  like  Dr.  Nevin  speak  for 
himself.  It  is  onl^^  in  this  waj^,  it  is  believed,  that  he  could  show 
what  manner  of  life  his  was  from  his  youth.  With  these  explanatory 
remarks  the  book  is  presented  to  the  public  with  the  hope  that  with 
its  defects,  resulting  from  inexperience  in  the  historic  art,  it  may 
meet  with  a  generous  recognition. 

In  conclusion,  it  affords  us  much  pleasure  here  to  acknowledge 
the  valuable  assistance  which,  in  various  ways,  we  received  all  along 
from  the  Publishing  Committee  of  the  Alumni  Association,  espe- 
cially for  making  themselves  responsible  for  the  res^Dectable  appear- 
ance of  the  book ;  and  for  the  many  valuable  suggestions,  which 
we  received,  from  time  to  time,  from  the  friends  of  the  enterprise. 
We  wish  also  here  to  put  on  record  our  high  appreciation  of  the 
kindness  of  the  man}^  friends  who  gave  us  their  generous  sympa- 
thy, whilst  deeply  absorbed  in  our  work.  Among  these  we  may 
mention,  Charles  Santee,  Philadelphia;  Hon.  John  H.  Vandyke, 
Milwaukee,  Wis.;  Hon.  Charles  E.  Gast,  Pueblo,  Col.;  Hon.  J.  W. 
Killinger,  Lebanon,  Pa.;  Dr.  J.  0.  Miller,  York,  Pa.;  Dr.  E.  R. 
Eschbaugh,  Frederick,  Md.;  Dr.  S.  Gr.  Wagner,  Allentown,  Pa.; 
Mr.  Daniel  Black  and  Mrs.  A.  Eyerman,  Easton,  Pa.;  S.  S.  Rick- 
ley,  Esq.,  Columbus,  Ohio;  Hon.  H.  H.  Schwartz,  Dr.  A.  S.  Lein- 
bach  and  Geo.  P.  Baer,  Esq.,  Reading,  Pa.;  B.  Wolff,  Jr.,  Pitts- 
burgh, Pa.;  E.  J.  Bonbrake,  Esq.,  Chambersburg,  Pa.;  and  Hon. 
M.  V.  L.  McClelland,  Franklin,  Mo.  But  we  desire  here  more  es- 
peciallj-  to  render  thanks  to  a  kind  and  merciful  heavenly-  Father 
for  the  preservation  of  our  health  and  strength  during  our  pro- 
tracted labors. — A<5^"a  Oeij. 


INDEX 


ABOLITIONISM,  70,  71. 
Absolute  Idea,  670. 
Abstract  Generality,  870. 
Academy  Building,  665. 
Actual  and  Ideal,  221. 
^Esthetics  667-685. 
Alexander,  Dr.  A.,  46.^  V  £- 
Allegheny,  96.  '   ' 

All  and  Whole.  370. 
Altlutheraner,  344. 
Alumni  Greetings,  635. 
Alumni,  Meeting  of,  301. 
Alumni,  Society  of,  249. 
Alpha  and  Omega.  535. 
American  Education,  649. 
American  Republic,  641. 
Amusements,  Fashionable,  67. 
Andrews,  Dr.  W.  W.,  261. 
Anglicanism,  37,  348. 
Anglican  Crisis,  310-320. 
Anglo-German  Education,  447. 
Anglo-German  Life,  252. 
Angina  Pectoris,  337. 
Antichrist,  414. 
'  Anti-liturgical,'  730. 
Anti-Puritan,  409. 
Anxious  Bench  Controversy,  161 
Apostles'  Creed,  86.  153,  560. 
Apostolic  Church,  SchalTs,  266. 
Appel,  Dr.  J.  II.,  514. 
Appel,   Dr.  T.  G.,  301,  514,  606, 
Archbishop  Leighton,  718. 
Aristotle,  071. 
Armageddon,  493. 
Arminianism,  236,  570. 
Ascension  Day,  755. 
Atlee,  Dr.  J.  L.,  436. 
Audenried  Bequest,  666. 
Augsburg  ('onl'os>ion,  151. 
Authority  and  Freedom,  327. 
Awakening,  an  Historical,  3^7. 

BACON,  Du.  L.,  338. 
Baer,  (ieo.  F.,  745. 
Baer,  II.  L.,  660. 
Baer,  Hon.  W.  J.,  656. 
Baird,  Prof.  T.  D.,  437. 
Bankrupt  in  Health,  39. 
Baptismal  Grace,  313. 
B^ughman,  A.  H.,  514. 


Bausman,  Dr.  B.,  005. 
Bausman,  John,  436. 
Becker,  Dr.  J.  C,  92,  243. 
Beck's  Logic,  628. 
Berg,  Dr.  .1.  F.,  227. 
Berg's  Last  Words,  390-403. 
Berg's  Coadjutors,  405. 
Berg,  Reply  to.  397. 
Bibighouse,  Rev.  H.,  199. 
Biblical  Antiquities,  53. 
Biblical  Repertory,  253. 
Bib'ical  Repository,  253. 
Big  Stomach,  266. 
Biography,  591. 
Birney.  Judge,  72. 
Birth  Day  Pre.sent,  722. 
Birth-Days,  754 
Black.  Daniel,  748. 
Black,  Hon.  J.  S.,  664. 
Bomberger,  Dr.  J.  H.  A.,  249,  605. 
Book  of  Common  Prayer,  487. 
Bori-omeo,  St.  Charles,  339. 
Botany,  43. 
Botch,  Much  of  a,  58. 
Boush,  C.  M.,  514. 
Bowman,  Dr.  S.  W.,  432. 
-177.    Brave  Words,  99. 

Breezy  Freshman,  429. 
Brevity  and  Wit,  683. 
Brown,  Dr.  M.,  05. 
686.    Brownson's  Revieic,  321-336. 

Buchanan,  Ex-President,  436,601-604. 

Bucher,  Dr.  J.  C,  432. 

Budd,  Prof.  S.  W.,  423. 

Burial  Service,  756. 

BurleK(jue,  082. 

Bushnell,  Dr.,  527-539. 

tlAEUNARVON  Place,  64,  444. 
;    Call  Accepted,  97-98. 
Callender,  Dr.  S.  N.,  420,  514. 
Calvin,  John,  149. 

Calvin,  on  the  Lord's  Supper, 237-238. 
Calvinism,  571. 
Calvinistic  Theory,  576. 
Carlisle,  Pa.,  443. 
Caro  Christ i,  412. 
Carmicliael,  Rev.  John,  64. 
Cast-oir-Clothes,  290. 
Catechetical  Class,  659. 

(  769) 


110 


INDEX 


Categorical  Imperative,  659. 
Catholicity,  369-395. 
Catholic,  Not  Roman,  232. 
Catholic  Tendency,  310. 
Catholic  Unity,  217-226,  257. 
Centennial  Celebration,  133,  136. 
Centennial  Hymn,  136. 
Cessna,  Hon.  John,  663. 
Channing,  Dr.  W.  E.,  710. 
Charges,  at  York,  245. 
Christ  and  the  Gospel,  624. 
Christ  in  Human  Nature,  257. 
Christ,  the  Truth,  621.  623. 
Christian  Ethics,  427,  686. 
Christianity  and  Ethics,  697. 
Christian  Intelligencer,  260,  404. 
Christian  Ministry,  109. 
Christian  Year,  471,  477. 
Christman,  A.,  429. 
Christo-Centric,  757. 
Christology,  Defective,  546. 
Christology,  Method  of,  624. 
Church  Dogma,  256. 
Church  of  England,  310. 
Church,  Faith  in,  559. 
Church  Fathers,  81. 
Church  Feeling,  256. 
Church  History,  81. 
Church,  Idea  of,  557. 
Church  or  No-Church,  313. 

Church  Question,  255,  257,  300. 

Church  Year,  462-480. 

Classis  of  Maryland,  126. 

Classis  of  Philadelphia,  242. 

Classis  of  East  Pennsylvania,  243,  481. 

Close  Vote,  436. 

Coffroth,  Hon.  A.  H.,  664. 

College  Charter,  440. 

College  Congregation,  604. 

College  or  No-College,  435. 

College  Pranks,  435. 

College,  Progress  of,  629. 

Colonization,  74. 

Colossal  Proportions,  639. 

Comic,  681. 

Commencement,  758. 

Complimentary,  737. 

Concrete  Generality,  371. 

Conclusions  Arrived  At,  335. 

Conference  at  Marburg,  147. 

Confessional  Antithesis,  306. 

Confessions  and  Retractions,  706. 

Confusion  of  Mind,  42. 

Conscience,  527. 

Conscientiousness,  78. 

Consensus  Tigurinus,  282. 

Consequenzmacherei,  289. 

Consolidation,  433-435. 

Consolidation,  Act  of,  434. 

Commentary  of  Ursinus,  405. 

Complaint,  Not  Sustained,  245. 


Cooper.  Dr.  Robert,  30. 
Cowbiding,  Threat  of,  69. 
Craig,  T.  J.,  514. 
Creation,  The  New,  233. 
Crisis,  A  Grand,  79. 
Criticisms,  38-39. 
Cultivated  Ground,  271. 
Cyprian,  365. 

DANGEROUS  Man,  A,  71. 
Dayton,  Discussions  at,  501. 
Dayton,  Serious  Charges  at,  500. 
Dayton,  Moral  Victory  at,  505. 
Davy,  Sir  Humphrey,  458. 
Death  of  a  Father,  60. 
Debating  Club,  43. 
Decided  Stand,  160. 
Decidedly  Nestorian,  289. 
Defeat,  A  Confession  of,  69. 
Defects.  87. 

Demund,  Rev.  I.  S.,  602. 
Denominations,  223. 
Der  Man  fuer  Uns,  659. 
Determinism,  693. 
De  Imitatione  Christi,  720. 
De  Unitate  Ecclesias,  365. 
De  Witt,  Dr.  T.,  10,  605. 
Diagnothian  Literary  Society,  424. 
Dialectic  Thorns,  319. 
Dick.  Dr.,  219. 
Dickinson  College,  26. 
Dignity  and  Decorum  at  York,  248. 
Dilemma,  A,  432. 
Diogenes,  685. 
Discourses  and  Tracts,  66. 
Discussions  at  York,  248-250. 
Distance  and  Enchantment,  675. 
Distinct  Understanding,  159. 
Distillers,  59. 
Divine  Trinity,  748. 
Diversions,  43. 
Dogmatic  Slumbers,  83. 
Dorner,  Dr.,  Answer  to,  728. 
Double  Dyspepsia,  42. 
Drum  Ecclesiastic,  511. 
Dualistic  Theory,  574. 
Dubbs,  Rev.  Dr.  J.  H.,  243,  656. 
Dutch  Delegates,  404. 
Dutch  and  German,  408. 
Dutch  Reformed  Divines,  261. 
Dyspepsia,  40. 

} TOASTER  Communion,  752. 
Li     Easton,  Pa.,  128. 
Early  Christianity,  337-368. 
Easy  Diction,  310. 
Ebrard,  Dr.,  His  Kritik,  485,  605. 
Ebrard,  Dr.,  Dogmatik,  404. 
Ecclesia  Docens,  327. 
Ecclesiastical  Libel,  241. 
Editorial  Committee,  301. 


INDEX 


771 


Editors  of  Review,  301. 
Edwards,  693. 
Ejaculatory  Prayer,  753. 
Election,  572. 
Elect  of  St.  Paul,  577. 
Elk  Lick,  (i5!). 
Elliott,  Dr.  D.,  fi2. 
Ellniaker,  Nathaniel,  436. 
End  of  All  ThinfTs,  640. 
Enjrlisli  Establishment,  316. 
Episcopacy,  315. 
Epoch  at  York,  249. 
Eras  of  Controversy,  250,  507. 
Ernesti,  706. 

Eschbach,  Dr.  E.  R.,  748. 
Ethics,  Christian,  086. 
Ethics,  Philosophical,  686,  700. 
Evangelist,  An,  05. 
Evangelical  Eeview,  267,  304. 
Excitement  at  Lancaster,  435. 
Excursions,  59,  129. 
Expulsion,  An,  429. 
Extremes,  410,  582. 
Eyerman,  Mrs.  A.,  748. 

FACT  OF  Sin,  536. 
Faculty  Organized,  441. 
Faculty  Reorganized,  030. 
Faith,  4.-)7. 
Fair  Orphans,  425. 
Farce,  A,  71. 
Farewell  Words,  439. 
Fatalism.  693. 
Fellowship  with  God,  626. 
Festival  Days,  471. 
Fichte,  J.  H.,  686. 
Fighting  Raccoons,  657. 
First  Adam,  219,  258. 
First  Impressions,  101. 
Fiske,  Dr.,  62. 
Fisher,  Dr.  S.  R.,  92. 
Fixed  Ideas,  399. 
Flight  of  Time,  262-204. 
Fingetting  the  Past.  409. 
Formal  Opening,  445. 
Formula  of  Concord,  305. 
Fountain  of  Truth  and  Reason, 

621. 
Franklin  College,  432-433. 
Franklin,  Hon.  Thomas  E.,  6()3. 
Frederick  the  Third.  151. 
Freedom  of  Thought,  251. 
French  Language,  4:5,  1S9. 
Friend,  The,  68. 
Fruits,  Good  and  Evil,  511. 
FuUerton,  M.  L.,  49. 

r^  ALA  Days,  426. 
^^T    Gnrrison.  ^Iv.,  71,  648. 
Gast,  Hon.  Charles  E.,  748. 
Gast,  Dr.  F.  A.,  758. 


618- 


General  Assembly,  The,  75,  229. 

General  (Conventions,  94,  605. 

General  Truths,  670. 

Gemiith,  194. 

Gerhart,  Dr.  E.  V.,  301,  441,  722. 

German  Character,  111. 

German  Church,  293. 

German  Churches,  113. 

German  Element,  447. 

Germanizing,  729. 

German  Language,  80,  187. 

German  Sermon,  130. 

German  Theologians,  289. 

Gloninger,  Dr.  J.  W.,  434. 

Gnostic  Christ,  748. 

Gnostic  or  Ebionitic,  715. 

Gcethean  Literary  Society,  424. 

Gcerres,  741. 

Good,  Dr.  J.  H.,  514. 

Good  Management,  425. 

Good  Results,  431. 

Grace  or  Charni,  079. 

Grteco-Roman  Church,  332. 

Grand  Physique,  603. 

Great  Enthusiasm,  629. 

Greding,  Rev.  P.,  514. 

Green,  Dr.  Traill,  422. 

Greenwalt,  Dr.  E.,  175. 

Gross,  D.  W.,  514. 

Gross,  W.  D.,  514. 

Gross  Insult,  307. 

Gustavus  and  Cromwell,  643. 

HAGEU,  Christopher,  436.  • 
Hager,  .John  C,  658. 
Halsey,  Dr.  S.,  59,  84. 
Hallowed  Spot,  440. 
Humes,  Dr.  S.,  436. 
Happy  Reply,  722. 
Harbaugh,  Dr.  H.,  301,  605. 
Harbaugh  Hall,  605. 
Hark,  Dr.  .1.  Max,  758. 
Harlot  of  Rome,  227. 
Hayes,  ILm.  A.  L.,  436,  445. 
Hebrew,  Study  of,  49. 
Hegel,  253,  667. 

Heidelberg  Catechism,   145,  146,  605. 
Heidelberg  Catechism,  Critical   Edi- 
tion of,  605. 
Heilman,  Rev.  C.  U.,  665. 
Heiner,  Dr.  Elias,  244. 
Hengstenberg,  233,  344. 
Herbruck,  Dr.  P.,  512. 
Herder  and  Lowth,  713. 
Herman,  Dr.  II.  M.,  512. 
Hermeneutical  Progress,  706,  714. 
Herron,  Dr.,  55,  63. 
Heizog,  Dr.,  605. 
Hess,  Rev.  Samuel.  243. 
Heyser,  William,  434. 
Hierarchy,  Papal  and  Episcopal,  253. 


112 


INDEX 


Hiester,  Hon.  W.,  436. 

Higbee,  Dr.  E.  E.,  302,  758. 

High  and  Low  Church,  87. 

His  Grace  of  Canterbury,  317. 

Historical  Development,  360-361. 

Historical  Introduction,  605. 

Historical  Learning,  597. 

Historical  Society,  607. 

History,  Faith  in,  597. 

History,  Imagination  in,  597. 

History,  Last  Problems  of,  645. 

History,  Lectures  on,  590-604. 

History,  Objective,  593. 

History,  Philosophy  of,  594. 

History,  Rationality  of,  596. 

History,  Sense  of,  597. 

History,  Subjective,  593. 

Hodge,  Dr.  A..  A.,  755. 

Hodge,  Dr.  Charles,  46,  55,  281. 

Hodge,  On  the  Ephesians,  566-589. 

Hoffeditz,  Dr.  T.  L.,  199. 

Hoffman,  D.,  664. 

Holy  Catholic  Church,  Its  Nature  and 

Constitution,  218-226. 
Hopefulness,  299. 
House  and  Farm,  444. 
Humanitarianism,  700. 
Humanity  and  History,  612,  618. 
Humor,  683-685. 
Hundeshagen,  Dr.  605. 
Hyper-Physical,  522. 

TDEA  AND  Form,  669. 
Idea  of  Religion,  691. 
Idea  of  Right,  689-690. 
Idea  of  Social  Integration,  689-691. 
Illustration,  An,  75. 
Inaugural  Address,  108. 
Incarnation,  The,  235. 
Incendiarism,  72. 
The  Independent,  376. 
Indifferentism,  693. 
In  Earnest,  116. 
Innigkeit  Gottes,  696. 
Inspiration,  A  Daring,  93. 
Interior  Sense,  747. 
Interesting  Sight,  752. 
Intolerance,  74. 
Inward  and  Outward,  465. 
Irvingism,  320. 


TAHRBTJCIIER,   737. 


Taneway,  Dr.,  59. 
Jenkins,  Mrs.  Catharine,  64. 
Jenkins,    Mrs.   C,    Death  of,  443. 
Jenkins  Family,  63,  64. 
Jewish  Year,  475. 
Jolinson,  Dr.  Samuel,  399,  440. 
Johnston,  Dr.  G.  H.,  658. 
Jure  Divino,  348. 
Justification,  75. 


KANT,  107,  167. 
Kelker.  Rudolph  F.,  434,  514. 
Keller,  Dr.  Eli,  758. 
Kendig,  Rev.  J.  M.,  512. 
Kemmerer,  Dr.  D.,  512. 
Ker chert freund,  266. 
Kerschner,  Prof.  J.  B.,  666. 
Kessler,  Dr.  J.  S..  607. 
Keystone  State,  445. 
Kieflfer,  Prof.  J.  B.,  666. 
Kieffer,  Dr.  M.,  605. 
Killinger,  Hon.  J.  W.,  441,  630,  748. 
Kinderlehi-e,  659. 
Kirchenschmerz,  415. 
Knapp,  705. 

Koeppen,  Prof.  A.  L.,  442. 
Konigmacher,  Hon.  J.,  436. 
Kopl'in,  Dr.  A.  B.,  657-661. 
Krause,  Hon.  D.,  434. 
Krauth,  Dr.  C.  P.,  304. 
Kremer,  Dr.  F.  W.,  514. 
Krummmacher,  Dr.  F.  W.,  199. 
Knelling,  Dr.  J.,  514. 
Kuhns,  13eni.,  514. 
Kurtz,  Dr.  B.,  244. 

Ladies'  Seminary,  65. 
Lake,  Rev.  D.  E.,  513. 
Lane,  Miss  Harriet,  601. 
Lane  Seminary,  72. 
Lange,  729. 
Latin  Elegy,  760. 
Last  Baptism,  753. 
Last  Communion,  752. 
Laying  of  a  Corner  Stone,  657. 
Letserman,  Rev.  J.  J.,  512. 
Leinbach,  Dr.  A.  S.,  768. 
Leiter,  Dr.  S.  B.,  512. 
Lemmata,  688. 
Leonard,  Henry,  628. 
Letter  to  George  Besore,  762. 
Letter  to  Mrs.  A.  Brown,  765. 
Letter  to  Dr.  Bucher,  763. 
Lewis,  Prof.  T.,  409. 
Licensure,  55. 
Life  at  Princeton,  46. 
Literary  Halls,  628. 
Little  Children,  753. 
Liturgical  Committee,  482. 
Liturgical  Movement,  481-514. 
Liturgv,  Basis  for,  486. 
Liturgy,  Dr.  Mayer's,  490. 
Liturgy,  Historical  Defense  of,  502- 

506. 
Liturgy,  New,  1857,  485. 
Liturgy,  Old  Palatinate,  485. 
Liturgy,  Revised,  494-506. 
Liturgy,  Vindication  of,  498. 
Logic  and  Rhetoric,  249. 
Long,  Hon.  H.  G.,  436. 
Low  Church,  313. 


INDEX 


773 


Lixsus  Naturae,  340. 
Luther,  ^lartin,  140, 
Lutheran  Confession,  301-309. 
Lutheranism,  308. 
Lutheranisni,  Old,  87. 
Lalhernn  Observer,  1G3. 
Lutheran  Hiandard,  155-156. 

MAN  OF  Sin,  229,  400. 
Man's  True  Destiny,  455-461. 
Marriage,  03. 
Matter  or  Stoff;  673. 
Mayer,  Rev.  .J.,  129. 
McCauley,  Dr.  C.  F.,  755. 
McCook,  General,  502, 
McLelland,  M.  V.  L.,  748. 
Mease,  Dr.  S.,  512. 
Melanchthon,  123,  149,  237. 
Memorial  Services,  758. 
Memorial  Window, 
Memorizing  Scriptnre,  757. 
Mercersburg  College,  055. 
Mercershuri]  Review  Founded,  209. 
Mercersburg  Theology,  250,  410. 
Merciful  Latin,  403. 
Metaphysical  Beauty,  668. 
Methodism,  106. 
Middle  Spring  Church,  31-32. 
Miller,  Hugh,  529. 
Miller,  Dr.  J.  ().,  751. 
Miller,  Dr.  Samuel,  40.  Vf- 
Milnor,  Dr.  Joseph,  84?      ' 
Milnor's  Church  History,  339. 
Miracles,  Continuation  of,  547. 
Miserable  Madness,  748. 
Mish,  H.  A.,  299. 
Mistake  Rectified,  430. 
Mitchell,  Dr.  ,J.  Y.,  758. 
Modern  Civilization,  324. 
Mffihler,  741. 

Monthly,  A  High-toned,  69. 
Moody,  Dr.  .John,  30-31. 
Moore,  Prof.  W.  W.,  606. 
Morbid  Piety,  41. 
More  Laborers,  115 
Mosheim,  84. 
Mottos  of  Review,  301. 
]\Iuch  AVork,  438. 
Miiller,  Dr.  Julius,  729. 
Mull,  Prof.  G.  F.,  600. 
Murdock,  Dr.,  104. 
Music  of  the  Si)heres,  077. 
Mutual  Recognition,  102. 
Myerstown  Convention,  510. 
Mystery  of  Godliness,  542. 
Mystery  of  the  Creed,  459. 
Mystical  Presence,  237-267. 


N 


Jatuhalism,  502. 

Natural  and  Supernatural,  529- 
550. 


Naive,  081. 

Neander,  Dr.  Aug.,  80,  000. 

Nettleton,  Rev.,  37. 

Nevin,  Alfred,  20, 

Nevin,  Alice,  04. 

Nevin,  Blanche,  64. 

Nevin,  Cecil,  64,  740. 

Nevin,  Daniel  E.,  28. 

Nevin,  Daniel  and  Margaret,  26. 

Nevin,  Edwin  Henry,  26. 

Nevin,  Elizabeth,  26. 

Nevin  Family,  25-28. 

Nevin,  Herbert,  64. 

Nevin,  John  and  Martha,  20-27. 

Nevin,  John  Williamson,  Jr.,  740. 

Nevin,  Dr.  J.  W.,  Bacalaureate,  454. 

Nevin,  Dr.  J.  W.,  Birth,  28. 

Nevin,    Dr.    J.    W.,    Commencement 
Address,  634-054. 

Nevin,  Dr.  J.  W.,  Death,  755. 

Nevin,  Dr.  J.  W.,  Early  Youth,  29- 
34. 

Nevin,  Dr.  J.  W.,  Election,  441. 

Nevin,  Dr.  J.  W.,  Funeral,  755. 

Nevin,  Dr.  J.  W.,  Ill-health,  439. 

Nevin,  Dr.  J.  W.,  Letter  of,  033. 

Nevin,  Dr.  J.  W.,  The  Marble  Man, 
248. 

Nevin,  Dr.  J.  W.,  Mystical  Tenden- 
cies, 74. 

Nevin,    Dr.    J.    W.,    President    Pro 

Tem.,  631. 
Nevin,  Dr.  J.  W.,  In  Retirement,  439, 

443,  740. 
Nevin,  Dr.  J.  W.,Articles  in  Review, 

302-304. 
Nevin,  Dr.  J.  W.,  Religious  Training. 

29-33. 
Nevin,   Dr.  J.  W.,  Theology,  Notes 

on,  419. 
Nevin,  Dr.  J.  W,,  at  York,  248, 
Nevin,  ^NFargaret,  20. 
Nevin,  jMartha  Finley,  64. 
Nevin,  Martha  Mary,  64. 
Nevin,  Robert,  04. 
Nevin,  Robert,  J.,  64. 
Nevin,  Tiieodore,  64. 
Nevin,  William  W.,  64. 
Nevin,  Prof.  William  31.,  28,  423. 
Nevin,  Letter  of  Prof.  William  M.,  430. 
New  Brunswick  Review,  408. 
New  Church,  425. 
New  Impulse,  A,  110. 
New  Life,  A,  258. 
Newman,  Dr.  H.  M.,  319. 
Noble  Head  and  Brow,  758. 
Non  Sectarian,  A,  225. 
Nomanalist,  A,  294. 
No  Sect  Party,  223. 
Not  a  Mere  Weathercock,  321. 
Nott,  Dr.  E.,  35. 


774 


INDEX 


0 BERLIN,  Ohio,  404. 
Observatory,  759. 
Ubjectivity,  One-sided,  735. 
Ocean  of  Mist,  753. 
fficolampadius,  285. 
Oflfense,  An,  70. 
Old  Dualism,  47. 
Old  Heretics,  81. 
Old  Man  Eloquent,  754. 
On  His  Knees,  753. 
One  Whole  Hemisphere,  307. 
Omni  Laude  Cumulatus,  431. 
Opposite  Winu's,  340. 
Opus  Operatum,  338. 
Orderly  Sergeant,  44. 
Ordination,  Go. 
Origin  of  Evil,  540. 
Orr,  Col.  J.  B.,  434. 
Our  Relations  to  Germany,  728. 
Oxford,  348. 

PACIFIC  Railroad,  646. 
Paganism,  553. 
Pagan  Year,  473, 
Painting  for  Eternity.  459. 
Parker,  Theodore,  648. 
I'alm  Sunday,  603. 
Pan-Anthropism,  069. 
Pantheism  Discussed,  336. 
Papal  System,  The,  343. 
Parthian  Arrow,  73. 
Particeps  Crimiuis,  401. 
Party  Spirit,  117-125. 
Pascal  and  Fenelon,  343. 
Paternal  Discipline,  439. 
Patterson,  Hon.  D.  W.,  436. 
Peace  Commissioners,  514. 
Peace  Measures,  513. 
Pedantics,  315. 
Pelagianism,  167,  168,  259. 
Pennsylvania  Dutch,  43 
Personality  of  Satan,  543. 
Peters,  Hon.  A.,  436. 
Peter's  Faith,  564. 
Philadelphia,  Discussions  at,  508. 
Philip  of  Hesse,  147-148. 
Phillips,  Wendell,  648. 
Pia  Desideria,  714-733. 
Pile  of  Bricks,  433. 
Pillars  of  the  Church,  59. 
Plain  Anglo-Saxon,  405. 
Plato  and  Sociates,  123. 
Platonism,  124. 
Pleasant  Commencement,  301. 
Pleasant  Surprise,  439. 
Poet  and  Philosopher,  741. 
Polemical  Mud,  738. 
Political  Reorganization,  640. 
Political  Year,  469. 
Politicians,  434. 
Pomp,  Rev.  Thomas,  131,  243. 


Porter,  Dr.  T.  C,  409,  437,  605,  632. 

Position  Defined,  157. 

Potter,  Right  Rev.  A.,  445. 

Practical  Divinity,  285. 

Practical  Lessons,  363. 

Practical  Reason,  522. 

Preaching  Extempore,  57. 

Presbyteri'in  Revieio,  295. 

Presbyterian,  Schism  of,  77. 

Predestination,  573. 

Premonitions,  755. 

Preparatory  Department,  424. 

President  of  Marshall  College,  433-431 

Princeton  Review,  103-104,  367,  751. 

Princeton  Review  on  Principles  of  Prot- 
estantism, 351-263. 

Princeton  Seminary.  45. 

Professing  the  Creed,  397. 

Profound  Impression,  A,  758. 

Protestant  Banner,  337. 

Protestantism,  Principle  of,  Arraign- 
ed, 343-343. 

Protestantism,  338,  341. 

Protestant  Quarterly,  396. 

Protestant  Theology,  735. 

Proudtit,  Prof.  .J.  W.,  405. 

Pulpit,  The,  109,  110. 

Pure  and  True  Church,  339-339. 

Puritanizing,  410. 

Puritan  Theory,  348   353. 

Puseyism,  253,  317,  414. 

Puseyite  Tendencies,  354. 


Q 


UAiNT  Poem,  33-34. 
Questions,  Clear  Cut,  418. 


RABIES  Theologica,  501. 
Race  Street  Church,  493. 

Ramsey,  Rev.  Wm.,  157-159. 

Rationalistic  Supernaturalism,  715. 

Ranch,  Dr.  F.  A.,  100-138. 

Ranch,  Dr.  F.  A.,  Eulogiura  of,  141- 
144. 

Ranch,  Dr.  F.  A.,  Sketch  of,  137-144. 

Ranch,    Dr.    F.    A.,   Psychology   of, 
103-107. 

Ranch's,  Dr.  F.  A.,  Psychology,  Re- 
viewed by  Dr.  Nevin,  105-107. 

Reactionary  Subjectivity,  735. 

Real  Presence,  253. 

Realist,  a,  394. 

Reason  and  Will,  533. 

Rectus  in  Ecclesia,  250. 

Redemption,  699. 

Regeneration,  699. 

Refined  Sensualism,  678. 

Reflections,  386-395. 

Reformed  Church,  93,  113. 

Reformed  Dutch  Church,  259. 

Reformirtes  Kirchenbuch,  485. 

Reformed,  Not  Ritualistic,  507. 


INDEX 


Reformed  Monthly,  509. 
Keformed  Synod,  1<S78,722. 
Heij^art,  Hon.  E.  C,  48G. 
Keiter,  Dr.  I.  H.,  rA2. 
Religious  Excitement,  158. 
Reminiscences,  87,  !)1,  41):}. 
Representative  Men,  591. 
Resting  in  Peace,  298. 
Retrospective  View,  723-727. 
Return  of  Peace,  511. 
Reynolds,  .John,  4I5G. 
Rickenbaugh,  Martin,  4:34. 
Rickley,  B.  S.,  748. 
Riddle,  Dr.  D.  H.,  92. 
Romanizing,  410. 
Romanizing  Tendencies,  226. 
Romish  Baptism,  229. 
Romanism,  Theory  of,  826. 
Romanism  Versus  Rationalism,  251. 
Rothe's  Theory,  359. 
Ruby,  Hon.  Henry,  434. 
Ruetenik,  Dr.  H.  J.,  514. 
Rum-selling,  66. 
Russell,  Dr.  G.  B.,  605. 

SABELLIANISM,  741. 
Sacraments,  154. 
Salem  Reformed  Church,  422. 
Samsonian  Shoulders,  426. 
Santee,  Charles,  708. 
Sayre,  Robert,  64. 
Schaff,  Dr.  Philip,  82. 
Schaff,  Dr.  Philip,  Election  of.  441. 
Schaff,  Dr.  Philip,  Inaugural  of,  217- 

226. 
Schalf,  Dr.  Philip,  Remarks  on  New 

Liturgy,  487-493. 
Schaff,  Dr.  Philip,  Report  of,  485. 
Schaff,  Dr.  Philip,  York  At,  249. 
Scheele,  F.  W.,  514. 
Schiedt,  Prof.  R.  C,  666. 
Schell,  Hon.  Peter,  434. 
Schelling,  667.  • 
Schiller,  667. 
Schleiermacher,  253,  729. 
Schneck,  Dr.  B.  S.,  94. 
Schneck,  Mrs.  B.  S.,  92. 
Schotcil,  Dr.,  605. 
>chwartz,  Hon.  H.  H.,  768. 
Scieiitiiic  Statement,  273. 
Scougal,  Henry,  718. 
Second  Adam,  259. 
Second  Mecca,  440. 
Sect  System,  414. 
Seibert,  W.  H.,  514. 
Self-Criticism,  82,  84. 
Self-Criticism  in  1870,  701-702. 
Self- Defense,  70-71. 
Seminary,  Western,  54. 
Sensible  Letters,  51,  52. 
Sermon,  Notes  of,  766. 


Shaw's  Immanuel,  718. 
Signilicance  of  the  War,  638. 
Slavery,  70. 
Sleeping  Giant,  445. 
Smith,  Frederick,  434. 
Smith,  Prof.  G.,  643. 
Smithsonian  Institute,  651. 
Socrates,  685. 
Solger,  672. 
Solemn  1  Mayer,  95. 
Solemn  Remarks,  159. 
Solemn  Warning,  74. 
Somebody's  Folly,  426. 
Something  of  an  Event,  267. 
Sophomorical  Scraps,  407. 
Spicy  Letter,  A,  160. 
Spirit  of  the  Age,  459. 
Spirit  and  Flesli,  459. 
Siiiritual  Manifestation,  544. 
Squire  Cook,  160. 
Stahr,  Prof.  J.  8.,  666. 
Star  of  Empire,  642. 
Steiner,  Dr.  L.  H.,  514,  755. 
Sterling  Qualities,  111. 
Stop  the  Liturgy,  509. 
Strassner,  Rev   F.,  512. 
Stuart,  Prof.  ^Nloses,  703. 
Stuart's  Commentary,  704. 
Studien  und  Kritiken,  267. 
Subjective  and  Objective,  331. 
Such  a  Hope,  415. 
Sufficiently  Egotistic,  322. 
Swedenborg  Emanuel.  324,  740. 
Synod  of  Baltimore,  485. 
Synod  of  Chambersburg,  1862,  494. 
Synod  of  Easton,  1809,  494. 
Synod  General  at  Dayton,  497-502. 
Synod  General,  180:),  495. 
Synod  General,  18(59,  508. 
Synod  General,  1878,  512. 
Synod  of  Hagerstown,  1848,  482. 
f^ynod  of  Lancaster,  1864,  495. 
Synod  of  Norristown,  1849,  482. 
Synod  of  Ohio,  495-497. 
Synod  of  York,  1806,  244-248,  496. 
System  of  Nature,  608-612. 

rPANEY,  Roger  B.,  26-27. 
X     Taste,  679. 
'1  aylor,  Isaac,  354. 
Taylor,  Lewis,  Prof.,  253. 
Temperance  Cause,  59. 
Temptations  of  the  Age,  647. 
Tercentenary  Monument,  606. 
Testimony,  A  Beautiful,  60-61. 
Testimony  of  the  Soul,  456,  556. 
The  Man,  421. 

Theory  of  Development,  255. 
The  Diflerence,  286. 
Thiersch's  Lectures,  358,  740. 
Thirty-nine  Articles,  295. 


'H] 


INDEX 


Tholuck  and  Olshauseii,  714. 
Thomas  a  Kempis,  720. 
Thoughts  on  the  Church,  551-563. 
Time,  a  Fragment,  2G5. 
Titzel,  Dr.  J.  W.,  32,  303,  514. 
Tons,  Henry,  514. 
Tractarianism,  87. 
Translations,  191. 
Transcendentalism,  94. 
Transubstantiation,  261. 
Tribute  of  Respect,  754. 
Triennial  Convention,  202. 
Trinity  Reformed  Church,  425. 
True,  Beautiful  and  Good,  670. 
True  End  of  Being,  457. 
True   Education,  427. 
Truth  and  Lile,  623. 
Tiibingen,  School  of,  731. 
Tulpehocken,  130, 
Two  Charges,  227. 
Two  Great  Divines,  756. 
Two  Opinions,  435. 
Two  Parables,  29. 
Two  Schemes,  587. 
Two  Thiugs,  527. 
Two  Views  of  the  World,  373. 
Two  Wings  of  Piotestantism,  237. 
Two  Worlds,  462. 

ULLMAN,  Dr.  Carl,  267,  605,  733. 
Unanimous  Election,  95. 
Unchurchly  Extremes,  256. 
Unchurchly  Spirit,  548. 
Undying  Life  in  Christ,  by  Dr.  J.  W. 

Nevin,  607-627. 
Union  College;  35. 
Uuio  Mystica,'270. 
Union  with  Christ,  234. 
Universe  Organic,  750. 
Unser  Freund,  658. 
Ursinus  College,  655. 
Ursinus,  Zacharias,  157. 
Useful  Lesson,  649. 

VACANT  Seat,  752. 
Valedictorian,  431. 
Valedictory,  A,  69. 
Van  Alpen's  History,  131. 
Van  Dyke,  Dr.  H.  J.,  295,  343,  409. 
Vandyke,  Hon.  JohnH.,  748. 
Venom,  399. 


Verbalism,  746. 
Virtue,  694-696. 
Vis  Vivitica,  412. 
Vischer,  F.  Theodore,  672. 
Vital  Questions,  300. 
Voice  of  Nature,  456. 
Voice  of  Revelation,  456. 

WALLACE,  Rev.  John,  63. 
War,  The,  75. 
Washington,  124. 
Wagner,  Dr.  S.  G.,  748. 
Weekly  Messenger,  The,  127,  260. 
Weiser,  Dr.  C.  Z.,  514. 
Welker,  Dr.  G.  W.,  514. 
Wesleyan  Movement,  716. 
Westminster  Confession,  295. 
Wheatland,  603. 
Whitsuntide,  755. 
Wilhelm,  Benjamin  and  Peter,  658. 
Wilhelm,  Family,  657. 
Wilhelm  Family  Bequest,  662. 
Williamson,  Captain  John,  27. 
Williamson,  Dr.  H.,  25. 
Williard,  Dr.  G.  W.,  405,  512. 
Wilson,  Bishop,  338. 
Windsor  Place,  443. 
Winters,  Dr.  D.  H.,  512. 
Wirt,  Plenry,  514. 

Woodward  Hill  Cemetery,  632,  758. 
Worldly  Mindedness,  127. 
Wolff,  Barnard,  434. 
Wolff,  Dr.  B.  C,  128,  131,  245,  422. 
Wolff,  Dr.  B.  C,  as  Agent,  655. 
Wolff;  B.,  748. 

Wonderful  Nature  of  Man,  525-575. 
World  Crisis,  756. 
World  in  Middle  Ages,  442. 
World  Historical,  643. 

TEAR  1889,  759. 
Yesterday,  To-day,  and  Forever, 
607. 
Young,  Prof.  C.  A.,  759. 

ZACHARIAS,  Dr.  D.,  482. 
Zacharias,  Miss  J.,  755. 
Zahner,  Dr.  J.  G.,  512. 
Zuilch,  Rev.,  243. 
Zwingli,  Ulrich,  145-146,  237. 
Zwinglianism,  285. 


^i,-^i'i)ri'^  Mh^lC^^ 


Date  Due 


I 


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Iin'm  l'i?r   ^''^°'°9"^^'  Semmary-Speer   Library 


1    1012  01036  5387 


